Lisa Desrochers - A Little Too Much

“Whatcha drawing?” I ask him, nudging my shoulder into his, thinking it’s going to be the mime.

He turns the pad, and I see the sketch is me. My head is resting on the back of the bench and my eyes are closed. I’m tipping my face up to the sun. And I’m smiling.

“Stop it!” I laugh, grabbing his sketch pad and bolting off the bench. Alessandro grins and chases me. I dart around the fountain, and when I glance over my shoulder, I realize Alessandro went around the other way. I cut back the way I came, looking over my shoulder for him, and see him coming fast. But, just as Alessandro catches up to me, I slam into the mime.

Alessandro catches me in his arms as the mime drops a string of every curse word he can think of on me. But the next second, we’re surrounded by butterflies.

I reach up to catch one and a fat, wet snowflake splats on my forehead, wrenching me out of the memory.

And the next second I’m sobbing.

I stand here in the middle of the lower terrace with my face in my hands as tears heave out of my soul in a stream that I can’t stop. I’ve been grieving the girl I was with Alessandro for eight years. It’s the only time in my life I was ever truly happy. I know, even if Alessandro had stayed, things would have changed. But as I look at what I’ve become, I realize every bit of hope, and trust, and love I felt that day died a long time ago, leaving only the tough, gritty bits behind.

But now Alessandro’s here, and I feel the dead parts of me coming back to life. Being with him again might gain me back my soul, but at what cost?

Too much has happened. There are too many secrets. I have so much to gain, but more to lose.

I have everything to lose.

I CALL JESS on the way to Alessandro’s the next morning. “Hey, sweetie,” I say when she picks up. “You’ve got an admirer.”

“If it’s that guy you were dancing with at Sixty-nine, I might be interested,” she sings.

“You’re gay, Jess.”

“Yeah, well . . . so who?”

“Remember Hailey, from my audition?”

“Oh, my God! Did you get the part?”

“Um . . . no.”

There’s a long silence. “You’re joking, right?”

“Tragically, no. Bambi got it.”

“Bambi!”

I have to pull the phone away from my ear at her screech. “That’s what Hailey said . . . which is really why I called.”

There’s a pause, then a confused, “What?”

“You know the girl I read with at that audition?”

“Oh, yeah. The cute blonde. What about her?”

“I think she’s crushing on you, Jess. She wanted your number.”

“Seriously?” The curious lilt to her voice tells me she’s not disgusted by the idea, which is good.

“Yeah. So if you’re okay with calling her, I’ll text you her number.”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“And she’s setting me up with an agent, Jess, so try not to break her heart right away, ’kay?” She laughs and I can’t help but smile. “Texting you now. Tell me how it goes.”

“Great. Oh! If you hear of anyone who needs a roommate, mine’s moving out on the first.”

“I’ll keep my ears open, sweetie,” I tell her. “Talk soon.”

When I get to Alessandro’s apartment at 11:15, I ring the bell, and when he buzzes the door to let me in, I tell him to meet me downstairs.

I’m in warm-ups and a T-shirt under my jacket, and when the elevator door opens, and Alessandro steps out, I see he’s in the same.

“You didn’t want to come up for tea first?” he asks.

“No. Thanks.” I know I should just tell him now, but he’s planned something and I know how excited he gets about it. I’d feel worse than I already do if I ruined it for him.

He nods. “We only have a few minutes before we should go anyway. Can’t hurt to be a little early.”

I keep my distance as we walk to the subway, staying far enough away that he doesn’t try to put his arm around me.

“How has your week been?” he asks, and I can tell by the caution in his voice that he knows something’s up.

“Fine.”

I feel the weight of his gaze grow heavier. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats slowly, as if turning the word over in his mind and examining it from all angles.

“Fine,” I say, and try to sound light.

We turn the corner and start down the subway stairs.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

I shoot him an annoyed glance. “No, Alessandro. It’s nothing you’ve done.”

“Then it is something.” It’s not a question.

I spin on him where we stand at the bottom of the stairs. “Why do you want to do this now?”

He gazes into my eyes for a long heartbeat before answering. “Because the fact there’s something to ‘do’ means you’re upset. If you’re upset, I want to know why. Especially if it’s me who’s upset you.”

I take a deep breath and try to remember that I’m the problem here, not Alessandro. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

I wave a hand in a circle between us. “Whatever we’re doing. I can’t spend time with you anymore.”

His lips press into a line and he nods. “I know.”

That is so not the answer I was expecting. “What do you mean, you know?”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and twitches a grimace. “I’ve always known you and I spending time together was a bad idea. I just . . .” The misery in those amazing charcoal eyes as he trails off is almost enough to make me change my mind. “I’m so glad you’ve let me know you for these past few months. It’s helped me more than you can ever know to see how well you’re doing. You’re an incredibly strong woman—beautiful and intelligent . . . you’re everything I hoped I’d find when I came looking for you.” He lowers his gaze. “But you’re right. You shouldn’t . . .” He shakes his head. “You’re right.”

“Good . . . so, yeah.” It was just guilt. That’s all this was to him—just a big pity parade. I was stupid to think he might be feeling any of the things I was feeling—that he’d be upset when I told him we can’t spend time together. He came, he saw, and I’m sure he’s been ready to bail for a while. He’s probably relieved.

“Come on,” he says, taking my elbow and guiding me toward the northbound platform. “I’ll see you to your train.”

We get to the platform just as a train is pulling in. The doors open and I step through. When I turn, Alessandro is still on the platform. “Where were we going, anyway?”

But the doors whoosh shut before he can answer.

We stare at each other through the glass for another beat of my dying heart, then the train glides out of the station. As soon as it hits the tunnel, tears are tracking down my face, but I choke them back. This is how it has to happen. It’s the only way to keep my secrets safe.

WHEN I FINALLY pull myself out of bed at noon, I realize it’s Thursday. I’ve survived a week without Alessandro, but today is our day. I drag myself through the shower and get dressed. Then, to stop myself from missing him, I call Jess.

“Hey!” she says when she picks up.

“Hey. I was thinking of doing a little Christmas shopping. You in?”

“Def! When?”

“Now, if you’re ready.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

I think about who I have to buy for. “I don’t know. Macy’s maybe?”

“We’ll get better deals at Century Twenty-one. Meet me there in an hour?”

Century 21 is just a few blocks from the World Trade Center memorial. I’ve avoided it for no reason in particular, but suddenly, I feel the overwhelming urge to see it. “Have you ever been to the WTC memorial?”

“Sure. A couple of times.”

“Do you mind going back? I’d like to see it.”

“You’ve never been?” she says, surprised.

“No, but I’m feeling like I should go, you know?” I haven’t seen Alessandro since I left him standing on the subway platform a week ago. I can’t see him again. I don’t know if that’s what’s behind the sudden compulsion—that it’s a way to feel connected to him without actually being with him—but I feel drawn to see it.

“Yeah, sure. We can do that first, if you want. I’ll meet you at the corner of Church and Vesey? We can walk over.”

“Thanks, Jess. See you in an hour.”

JESS IS ALREADY there, leaning on the wall near the post-office entrance of the Federal Building, when I walk up to the corner. She takes one look at me and the smile falls off her face. “What happened?” she asks, pulling me into a hug.

I hug her back, way longer than I normally would. “What didn’t happen would be easier to answer.”

“Is it the part? It sucks, Hil, but you’ll get the next one. I just know it.”

I let her go and start toward where the throngs of people are disappearing around the corner toward the site of the old World Trade Center buildings. The sidewalk is lined on the left with chain-link fencing hung with blue tarps, and behind it, the endless construction continues. “It’s the part, but other stuff too.”

“So start with the big stuff and we’ll work our way down,” she says, looping her arm through mine.

“My mom has cancer.”

“Holy shit, Hilary. You weren’t kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“How is she?”

“I have no clue because she won’t talk to me. I’ve called every day since I found out three weeks ago and she won’t take my calls. They tell me not to bother making the trip again because she’s refusing to see me.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what I did to piss her off.”

“Jesus,” she says, hanging her head. “That’s rough.”

Some asshole walking backward with a camera slams into me, nearly knocking me over. When I get my balance, I shove him back. “Watch it.”