Jay swallowed. It was like Keiko not to be jealous or appear so. She was impressive to him in this regard. She was almost impossible to rattle, whereas Casey was far more fragile than she seemed. He felt happy suddenly at being with Casey alone in the midst of the crowd. It felt right that they got a chance to talk even for a little while.
“How are you?” Casey was the first to ask. She wanted to ask him a dozen things and hoped he would hold nothing back. Jay had always been more emotional than she was—one of the things she liked best about him. She wanted to ask: Are you happy with her? Are you happy with your life? Do you miss me? Do you love me still? Did our love matter? She didn’t want him back—it wasn’t that at all. But he was still attractive to her. It had been three years since they’d broken up. “You haven’t changed. Not even a little.”
“Neither have you.” She was still sexy as hell to him. They had always had that between them.
Casey took a deep breath into her lungs, and she could smell him—the vetiver of his aftershave. A flood of pictures came into her head. But there had never been an image of them being married, of living together forever. Wasn’t that why she’d ultimately said no? And she loved Unu, too, who was likely at Foxwoods right now. Last week, he’d turned down an analyst position at a small asset management company because it would have been a step down, he’d said. She looked carefully at Jay’s face, as though she wanted to engrave it, his speckled blue eyes, the high bridge of his nose. He had been her best friend in the world. He had taught her to be more affectionate and open—to smile at strangers. There had been bad moments, but she had loved him more than Virginia or Ella and felt closer to him than to her own sister. No one had been as intimate with her as Jay, and it occurred to her that it had been much easier when they had not seen each other. And as she was thinking these things, Jay was remembering what had crystallized the moment he had decided to ask her to marry him—that they were the kids who’d enlarged their lives beyond their circumstances through education, and for sure, no one would understand the other better. No matter where they were—at a McDonald’s or on his friend’s yacht sailing Nantucket Sound—everything had been interesting to them, because they were learning about the bigness of the world at the same time. Why weren’t they together anymore? Oh yes, he recalled painfully. She had not been able to see their future in some cockamamy vision in her mind. But he had. He had seen them growing older together, fucking their brains out till the very end. But she had not wanted him, and he had refused to be her friend. So there had been this three-year break. And here she was.
“My father died this year,” he said. Why had he told her this?
“Oh God. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry to hear that.” Casey wanted to hold him, and she touched his forearm.
“He was gay. He was living with his second cousin. They were lovers.”
“That’s why—”
“Mystery solved.”
“Oh, I wish I’d known about his death.”
He ignored this.
“That’s why he checked out and never—” Jay’s voice broke. “Case closed.”
Casey held his forearm for a moment longer than she should have. She squeezed it, then let go.
“Anyway. . .” He sighed. “Crazy, huh?”
“Your mother—gosh, how is she?” Casey smiled at the thought of Mary Ellen.
Jay sniffled and wiped his nose. He looked away for a moment, then smiled at her as if everything were okay.
“She sold her book on ED. It’s out. She wanted to let you know, but I told her not to contact you, because—”
Casey nodded. “I’ll pick it up.”
“Because I couldn’t handle it, her asking about you. It was really hard when we—”
“It was hard for me, too, Jay. This is hard now.”
Jay crossed his arms. It wasn’t the same, he wanted to say, to be dumped like that. It was better to be the one who got to go. He got quiet.
“Keiko seems great.”
“Yeah. She’s great.”
“And she’s beautiful.”
“On the inside, too.”
Casey nodded. “You’re lucky, then. Everything worked out for the better.”
Jay nodded, unable to speak.
She could see the hurt in his face. “Can I say something that is very selfish?”
“Yes, please.”
“I missed you, Jay Currie. You were always a good friend to me. And I’m jealous. But I think you will be much happier with her.”