He nods. “It’s a classic pattern.”
“I never kept more stuff than I could haul around in a duffel bag but everything in the bag was mine. If nothing else, no matter what shitty apartment I had to live in, I always knew I had the equipment to make myself cereal.” Her voice grows a little more agitated. “Cass used the bowl all the time and I thought that was kind of cute. She already had tons of kitchen stuff, but this was my symbolic contribution to the apartment. After the movers left, I went into the kitchen and threw open all the cabinet doors, looking for it.”
“And it wasn’t there?”
“I assumed she’d make sure they left that one thing.” Her voice rises in pitch. He’s afraid she’s on the edge of tears again until she recomposes her face into something nonchalant. “At least she didn’t take my bong.” Ari laughs, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it, giving Josh the sense that the bowl represents the outer bound of some bigger hurt, pulsing under the surface.
They take one of the looping walkways around the park, leaves crunching beneath their boots, following the paths without either one of them leading the way. The orange-pink light of sunset filters through the Washington Square Arch onto the surface of the fountain water, creating an ideal backdrop for a handful of couples taking selfies.
Ari stares at a man and a woman, his arms slung around her shoulders, her right hand outstretched to hold her phone.
“How do you think those two will break up?” she asks.
“Break up?” Josh tilts his head at the couple. “They seem happy enough.” They’re each wearing L.L.Bean fleece pullovers in muted earth tones.
Ari gives him an “oh, please” look. “It’s easy to be happy at that stage. But in a couple months he’ll start to suspect that she’s cheating on him with her work husband. He’ll notice her smiling at some after-hours text and check her phone when she’s in the shower. He’ll tell himself he’s doing it to prove himself wrong. That she’s totally innocent. And instead, he’ll discover that his intuition was spot-on. She’s been boning her co-worker for months.”
“Is this a new hobby of yours?” Josh asks, searching for whatever invisible signs of future infidelity she’s picking up on.
“More of a lifelong aptitude.” Ari starts walking again, hugging her coat closed. “Weird how I didn’t foresee the demise of my own relationship. I guess we always think we’re the exception.”
Something about her dejected expression triggers his empathy, revealing a sliver of common ground between them. Josh clears his throat. “When we first met, I was—”
“A total shithead?” Ari keeps her eyes straight ahead as they pass beneath a stretch of scaffolding.
He exhales, recalibrating. Apologies have never been his strong suit. “A bit arrogant.”
“But you’re a softboi now?” She gives him a gentle little jab in the ribs. It gives him a jolt in a way he’s certain she didn’t intend. There’s a pause—an opening—but they let it pass.
“I honestly don’t know if that’s a positive or a negative.” He makes a mental note to check the meaning of softboi on Urban Dictionary later.
“You also said you were completely certain that the best sexual experience of my life wouldn’t be with a stranger.”
Interesting that she memorized the exact wording of his pronouncement. Of course, this exchange burrowed deep in his hippocampus, too.
“So…was it? With a stranger…or…？”
“I’d like to believe the best is yet to come.” A smile spreads across her face. “Pun intended.”
She stops in front of him once they reach the red light at the corner. They’re standing close enough that she has to tilt her head up and…Fuck, he misses having another person focus all their attention on him. They look at each other for a beat too long. The walk sign flashes. People with dog leashes and overstuffed backpacks and knockoff Louis Vuitton handbags brush past them. Everyone has somewhere to be.
They don’t.
They’ve been talking for almost three hours. To keep going might be pushing his luck.
Ari takes a big breath. “Well, I should—”
“My apartment’s down the block,” Josh blurts out to his own surprise. “Do you want to come up?”
She squints like she’s trying to read the bottom line on an eye chart. “Come up?”
“We could watch a movie?” His voice is slightly breathless, like he’s desperate to avoid being alone again.