Nathan

Some days, I still forgot there was no one at the house but me. Today was such a day.

The door fell shut behind me, cutting me off from the outside world with a soft thud — no work, no exercise, just me and my freedom. I sighed and placed my bag on the stairs, then almost, almost opened my mouth, ready to call out that I was home.

Damn that habit. I'd thought I'd be rid of it by now.

The hall breathed silence, a welcome difference after the hecticness of the office and the busyness of the honking San Fransisco traffic. Immediately, I regretted my decision to reorder my schedule, already feeling the tiredness seep to every corner of my body. Due to a private party, the pool would be closed tonight, so I'd decided to go earlier, even though the other guys had canceled. Six pm, and I was ready to dive into bed. Great. Maybe Albert was right. Maybe I was getting old.

Not giving up on my evening yet, I shook my head. Stay awake. Don't mess up your rhythm.

I opened the bathroom door, automatically switching on the light. My mind wandered to nowhere while I took a leak, filled with a peaceful numbness only an intense work-out could bring you. After washing my hands, I reached for the towel —

only it wasn't hanging on the hook.

It'd been spread out on the cabinet, somewhat carelessly. I frowned, my gaze slowly moving towards the floor. A few drops of water dotted the dark tiles, halfway through drying.

For a second, I froze.

June. The only one who managed to drip water through the whole bathroom and then failed to put the towel on the hook was June.

But June wasn't here. June hadn't been here for two years. She was in New York.

Don't be a fool. It was just a coincidence. The towel had simply fallen off because of me not being careful enough with putting it back this morning, and I'd probably caused the water droplets as well, without noticing.

Suddenly even more tired than before, I went back into the hall, slung my bag over my shoulder, and trudged up the stairs. Maybe Albert was right about that too. Maybe I wasn't designed to be alone. Ever since he'd moved in with Will, a former accountant who now owned an ice cream parlor and spent his time selling sundaes at a ridiculously low price, he'd been meddling with my love life, saying I was twenty-three and needed to get a move on. Until now, I'd just ignored him, but I was starting to wonder if he was onto something. What if I was becoming one of those people who saw stuff that wasn't there? Oh, come on. I was only worn out. That was it.

On the landing, I came to a halt again. At the far end of the corridor, the place I normally tried not to look at, the door was left open, only by a few inches. The door to June's room.

This time, my heart started beating loudly. The drops, the door — could it be...? No, more probable was that Agnieszka had been absent-minded while cleaning today, forgetting to shut the door and to hang up a freshly laundered towel. Those things happened. I was going to close it myself, clear out my bag, and warm up some leftover spaghetti. No surprises. All of this had been a coincidence.

Yet, with every step towards her room, my pace quickened, unable to stop myself from hoping that maybe, maybe I would find her there.

I yanked it open —

Nothing to see.

No June.

I breathed in deeply, rubbing my face. If Sam would've seen me like this, he'd surely have laughed his ass off, suggesting I'd adopt some cats and become a cat lady. Might be a good idea, to be honest. Get a dog. Who knows, it might satisfy Albert enough to stop whining about me being single.

Agnieszka must've had it rough this morning. When I draped my wet swimming trunks over the heater in the bathroom, I noticed the laundry basket was still full to the brim. Had she had to leave early because of an emergency? This wasn't like her. I should text her, ask if everything was okay.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the dishwasher zoomed softly, the display telling me it had thirty minutes left to go. The counter was free of the dirty plate and mug I'd left there before heading to the office, meaning Agnieszka had at least taken care of that.

I walked towards the coffee machine, raising my finger to push the power button — and halted midway.

Friday. Today was Friday. Agnieszka didn't work on Fridays. It was when she babysat her grandkids.

Instantly, the blood rushing through my veins chased away all former exhaustion. I wasn't imagining things — I couldn't be imagining things. This could only mean one thing... I hurried to the living room, almost running, throwing the door open that aggressively it banged into the wall.

And there, sitting on the couch, was June.

She had her legs pressed tightly together, her fingers digging into the denim of her jeans, her shoulders tense and huddled. I'd startled her, so much was clear, and somewhere in me I knew I should apologize, only I wasn't really capable of doing anything else than stand and stare.

That familiar face, with big brown eyes gazing up at me, even larger due to her shock. Long, dark curls still twirled down her body, shining like they were damp, as if she'd just taken a shower or strolled through the rain. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly, drawing attention to her boobs, that didn't seem to have changed as well. Except for her hips and waist having become wider, she seemed exactly the same girl as she'd been two years ago. Even the shirt she was wearing was one I remembered, I was almost sure, and judging by the faded colors and holes, I could very well be right. She was no less beautiful, though.

And she was here. In California. Right in front of me. With me gaping at her like she was a ghost. But ghosts didn't startle.

Finally, I seemed to be able to move again. "Sorry, I—"

"It's okay," she said, averting her gaze to her hands. Damn, it was such a long time since I'd heard that voice. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"No, it's fine. You are. I mean, I don't mind."

For a second, she smiled, lighting up her features — then, it was gone. I didn't know what to say, just kept standing there, drinking up every part of her appearance like I was scared she'd vanish into nowhere if I didn't pay attention. Silence stretched out between us, as if representing every second of the time we hadn't seen each other. Eventually, it was she who took a deep breath, clutching her left fist with her right hand. "Hi," she said.

"Hi."

She was here.

June was here, and she was talking to me.

Unbelievable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know when you'd be home and if you'd be home, so... I guess I could've called, but..." Her gaze flickered around the room, clearly uncomfortable.

"June, it's okay, really. We still got your room here, so you can stay as long as you like. If that's... if that's what you're here for?" I tried to keep the hopefulness from my tone, failing hard. June was here.

That seemed to make her even more nervous, her hands tensing tightly. "Yeah, well... I'm here to ask you a favor, but..."

"Ask away."

Her lips strained, and with a jerky move, she shook her head, attempting to swing a curl out of her face. "No, I don't wanna... It can wait."

Even better. It could wait. That meant we could spend some time together first. "Okay, that's fine," I said, racking my brain for something to ask that would break the ice. Only, that'd never been my strong suit. I wished I had a file in front of me, one I'd read through beforehand to prepare for this situation. "So... Do you want some coffee? Tea?" Great. Very original.

"Oh, I already made some, I'm sorry... And I took a shower too — airplanes make you sweat massively... I'm sorry — I hope you don't mind."

Airplanes. That meant she'd only landed today and directly traveled to Palo Alto afterward, to see me. Why?

"Of course not."

She nodded. "I could make you some, if you'd like?"

Our gazes met, and suddenly, the situation seemed that bizarre that I couldn't help but laugh. She did the same, just as nervous as me. Was this really happening? Was she really here?

I stuck my hands in my pockets, walking a few steps towards her. Somehow, I couldn't get any further than eight feet of distance between us. "It's been a while, hey?"

"Two years, yeah." Her eyes traveled to the carpet, only for a moment, before focusing on me again. Although her face was stoic, a slight blush crept up her cheeks, betraying that she was thinking the same thing as me.

Last time we'd seen each other, we'd been right there, on the floor, kissing. It felt like centuries ago.

I cleared my throat — this wasn't the moment to relive those memories. "Err... How have you been?"

"Oh, err, yeah... Doing okay. I had some trouble with credits due to changing schools, but now I'm planning to finally start college in the fall."

I'd known about the credit problems — my blood had boiled when Sam had told me about it, because if there was someone who shouldn't have to deal with that, it was her. That she was now preparing for college, though, was new. Good. It'd turned out fine in the end. "That's amazing! Which one?"

Again, she looked away. "I'm not sure yet. I've got a few to choose from. It depends, really."

"And your major? Any ideas yet? English? Spanish? Creative writing?"

She smiled, a smile that wasn't directed at me, and made me feel like she was aware of some great truth I'd never uncover. It made her an exact copy of her mother, and it was frightening. "Computer Science."

"Oh, yeah. Of course."

"What about you?" Her tone was falsely cheerful, like she felt obliged to return the question. The thought of her not wanting anything to know about me stung, and I had to fight to keep my expression neutral.

"Been working at the Maskin firm, up in San Francisco. Doing adoption cases. Albert worked there too, but he's retiring in a week."

At the mention of Albert, she stiffened, something passing over her face. It disappeared quickly, replaced by an attempt to smile genuinely. It didn't fool me. "Sounds like you've got it all together."

"Yeah, mostly."

"Listen—"

But I didn't want to listen. What if she would ask the favor now and would leave right after? She was clearly not very happy to be here. "I was gonna eat some leftover spaghetti, though now you're here, that can't do, of course. What about we go to the market, for old time's sake?"

She was silent, the muscles in her neck tense. Was she remembering the last time we went, her seventeenth birthday, her laughing at me in the car? The following night? There was a strong urge to look at the carpet, like the thing had been set on fire, nearly impossible to resist, but somehow I managed not to. She nodded slightly. "Yeah," she said, and immediately, I could breathe again. "Is it okay if we go to the supermarket, though? I'm kind of tired from the journey."

"Yeah, fine."

"I'll go... get my shoes."

I smiled, only now noticing her socks underneath her jeans. She'd let herself in, showered, and poured herself a drink — did she still feel at home here? Or was she just one of those people who felt comfortable anywhere?

She hastened to the hall, in such a woodenly manner she almost tripped over the edge of the carpet. I was making her nervous. Understandable, I supposed — still, it hurt. Two years ago, I'd ruined something good, and this was the result. A June who didn't really want to be here. So, why did she come?

When she returned, she avoided my gaze, skirting round the carpet like it was infected with a serious illness. Maybe it was. Maybe I should've gotten rid of it. She plumped down onto the couch, worming both her feet in a pair of worn-out sneakers that might've once been black. Her boobs pressed into her knees as she bent over to tie her laces, something her fingers were making extra difficult for her by making involuntary movements. Every time she got to the part where she had to pull the lace through the hole to form the second hoop, she couldn't push it through, and all her work would fall apart.

In the old days, she would've asked for my help.

Would she do the same now?

She looked up, her face red from the blood sinking to her head — or maybe embarrassment. "Do you have to stand there and watch me? It's not making it any easier."

I ran my hand through my hair. "Yeah, no, I'll just go get a shopping bag."

Right before I turned around, she smiled, shaking her head, showing me the June I once knew. The June that might still be in there somewhere.