“I can’t believe you went through my stuff.”
“Yeah? Call The Hague. Believe me, I have no interest in reading about how some random douchenozzle thought your eyes were like planets, but you do. Once I opened that box, it seemed like splitting hairs to suddenly care about your privacy. I don’t know, maybe I felt like I’d earned it. Not looking seemed like a convenient morality.”
“Like how Julia Roberts won’t kiss Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”
“Don’t make jokes.”
“I wasn’t making a joke, I was making an analogy.”
“I know we agreed not to talk about our pasts. I know it was my idea. And it’s not the box, the box is not the end of the world. It’s what the box represents. I’m not the moron you think I am. I could sense you pulling back. You nearly went off with that crazy chick from the wedding. Or you wanted to. If I’m honest with myself, and trust me, I’ve had lots of time to be honest with myself, I’ve sensed you were a flight risk since the night we met, when I saw you kissing Pierre on the balcony.”
“You saw that?”
“And I feel like I’ve been trying to show you I’m a good fit for you ever since.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“About Pierre?”
“About everything that came after Pierre.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to rock the boat or see how easily you’d throw me over. I don’t know, it’s all just very … very…”
“Nautical.”
He nodded and lowered his head. His watch was too big for him, but he centered the face on his wrist anyway, as if it would stay. I imagined what this room looked like when it was full, with dozens of members sitting there with their eyes closed, maybe some with laptops, googling, coding, cracking, manipulating. Like the call center at Esalen in 1969. Max slept alone in this room after they’d all gone.
“So around the same time as the box,” he went on, “I get this email from one of my buyers and he wants me to bring him a couple of pieces in person instead of paying for shipping. He bought three and he’s downtown so I say okay. And he has me meet him at this annoying fusion restaurant down the street. And I walk in and there’s fucking Clive. Then, out of the bathroom, comes my second-favorite person in all the world—”
“Vadis.”
“Honestly, you’d been acting so weird, my first instinct was that you were secretly on pills and they wanted to stage an intervention. But then I was like, well, why wouldn’t Clive just use his real name?”
“Because he didn’t want you telling me you were going to meet him.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Normally, I don’t like to give Vadis ammunition but you’re kind of the only thing we have in common. So I said something wasn’t right with us because it wasn’t. Like you weren’t cheating on me exactly but you were stuck and I couldn’t unstick you. Then she turned to Clive, who said, and I will never forget this: ‘What if I can unstick her for you, Maxwell?’”
“The exes’ pact is not in blood. You could’ve talked to me.”
“I don’t particularly like being reminded of your capacity to end things. Haven’t you ever asked yourself why I don’t like talking about these people? It’s because they’re chapters so what does that make me? Chapters end, that’s what they do. And you could have talked to me, too. At any time.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? What were you going to say tonight? Were you going to confess to being half in love with every asshole in this city but the one you’re about to marry? Sounds about right. Clive showed me his ‘menu.’”
“I saw it too.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I completely did.”
“Lola,” he sighed at the arches, half smiling. “Okay, imagine a Russian nesting doll. I’m the bigger doll around you and Clive is the bigger doll around me. You’re ‘The Classic,’ yeah?”
I nodded.
“I’m ‘The Grand Sweep’： The chance to get your partner to get over their exes, once and for all, by having them confront and release their ghosts. That’s the one Clive is testing. We used me and your box to put a list together. It’s not rocket science. I mean, it’s not science science either.”
I puffed out my cheeks, sputtering as I exhaled, driving my fingers through my hair. Was this the most romantic or the most psychotic thing anyone had ever done for me? Was there a difference? Max stood like he was preparing to pace but kicked the leg of his chair instead, which squeaked against the floor. He wanted to be physically away from me. He hopped up on the platform and sat on his bed, which was more of a mattress with a lamp beside it, the kind of setup that wanted for a bachelor. Beneath the lamp was the glass hand. I was taken aback by how glad I was to see it again.