Of all places, she was there. Picking peaches from wooden crates, completely unaware that we were close enough again to hear the same flock of birds. Close enough to stir the memories from their slumber. She didn't know that if I were brave enough to look up from my basket of oranges for more than a second, we’d risk falling all over again. I was not dressed for a reunion. I was dressed for an ordinary day at the farmer’s market. Choosing cantaloupes and strawberries next to people I have never loved. Not this. I didn’t look the way I’d dreamt about it in the shower: freshly braided hair, glossed lips, some sort of long swaying dress for dramatic effect. There was a speech I rehearsed for this too. Something noncommittal that sounded more like a shrug. Athena? Hey girl, that you? What's it been, like ten years? Shrug. Laugh. Now she looked the way I wanted to on a day like this. The way she always had: Tall and yawningly beautiful. Intense. I watched her trail through the rows of squash and zucchini, pausing every so often to squeeze, sniff, or study. The back of her long brown dress sweated into her long brown body.
10 Years Earlier Athena and I carried the last cardboard box into the new apartment. “I think that's it.” she said. I stretched out on the oak floors in the space where a couch would be someday. She laid down beside me. We high-fived. “We did good girl” I laughed. “Especially with how much shit you brought” “Me? I just brought the essentials.” Athena said. “You literally packed your entire book collection and you don't even have a bookshelf yet. You know we got the moving truck for a few more days right?” “Yeah but” she sighed “I don't know, I just wanted to get my shit out of there as soon as possible. Just be done with it.” We stiffened next to each other for a moment and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. “So where do you think we should put the bookshelf when we buy one?” I broke in. She sat up on her elbows and surveyed the space. It was small, with one bedroom, a galley kitchen that needed painting, and a decent size bay window that faced the street four stories below. It was the first apartment the realtor showed us and we took it on the spot. The sooner we moved into a place of our own, the sooner our new life could begin. I’d imagined all of the slow weeknights, watching documentaries and ordering dumplings from the tiny Chinese place on the corner. Or the clawfoot tub just big enough for both of us; sitting between her legs while she squeezed my breasts. I imagined our sex, how much louder we could love each other in the refuge of our own home. I imagined our Christmases with dorky garlands and overpriced gifts. Or summers on the new block, holding hands in the boldness of daylight. “Maybe right there in the corner” Athena pointed toward the bay window. “That’s a good place” I said. “And then we could put the TV right there” she gestured toward the opposite wall. “You got it all planned out” I laughed. She giggled.
I was the first woman Athena ever allowed herself to love. There had been crushes, she told me later, on private school classmates or law firm colleagues. But she batted them away like mosquitoes. One day, I asked her why she let things go further with me. “If I could've stopped these feelings I would have” she said. We had our first kiss in the dark. On a street many neighborhoods from anyone who’d recognize her. But even then, her eyes tracked every shadow with fear. “We’re okay” I assured her. And we let our lips touch. Softly at first, then with hunger. Her kiss tasted like years of want. I knew I loved her after just a few weeks. But I didn't dare say it until the two month mark. I let the feeling buzz between us, invisible but prickling at the nape of the neck. “That's why I love you.” I tried to be subtle. “Did you just say you loved me?” she asked. Pause. “I did. I do. I love you, probably more than I've ever loved anyone.” Panic. “Is that weird?” She smiled and kissed my forehead. “I love you too” paused then added, “If I knew it was supposed to feel like this, I don't think I could've said it to anyone else.”
We woke up the next morning on a mattress in the middle of the new apartment. I can remember it because Athena had fallen asleep with her head against my shoulder. Long legs wrapped around my torso. I wondered how many mornings we’d wake up in pretzels. How many more configurations our bodies could invent. Her eyes flit open as the sun spotlighted our nudity. "Morning” I kissed her. “Morning” she smiled. Athena fumbled for her phone and I watched her eyes grow wide at the screen. Scared. “What?” I asked. “Shit.” she scrolled madly. “What?” I pressed. “He's blowing me up. There's like thirty missed calls—texts—shit, he's saying he's gonna fight the divorce—shit.” Athena scrambles for clothes to wear and puts on my shirt instead of hers. I stiffen on the mattress and say nothing. She takes her phone into the bathroom and shuts the door for privacy. “Hello? What the fuck are you talking about, David?” “I can't do that. I already told you why.” she hissed. “What do the kids have to do with anything? Wait—put them on. Fucking put them on.” I closed my eyes and counted the silences, searching her voice for traces of regret. “You can't do that!” she sobbed suddenly, after a particularly long silence. “No. NO—David?” She tried to muffle her cries but they seeped beneath the door anyway. I grabbed a shirt and sat up. Athena slumped back towards me, wet eyes tacked to the floor. “What's going on?” I swallowed. “He's trying to take custody of the kids” “So what does that mean?” She sighed deeply and cried into her hands. “I don't know.” My stomach reeled and I jumped to my feet. “What do you mean? What do you mean you don't know?” Athena shook her head and her eyes avoided mine. “What does that mean Athena?!” I screamed. “I don’t fuckin know!” she screamed back. I paced the floors, tripping over sealed cardboard boxes labeled “sweaters” and “kitchenware” and “Athena.” I found a cup and sipped water to steady myself. Athena sunk against the wall that would've been a bookshelf. “I can't believe this shit” I half laughed. “I'm not saying we still can't happen” she cried. “I knew it. I knew you'd go back to him, you're going back to him aren't you?” “It's not about him” she snapped. “It's about my kids.” “HE’S JUST BLUFFING, ATHENA” I yelled, moving towards her. “And even if he's not, we can fight it.” Athena shook her head and sniffed. “With what?” I stopped pacing. “Is that what this is about? Money?” I asked. “What? No.” “Cuz I thought you said you didn't care about that shit anymore. You were miserable in that life.” “This isn't about—” “I can't believe we’re back here again.” I interrupted. “After everything, we’re back here?” “This isn't about that, this is about my kids!” Athena screamed. “No this is about you being so scared to be who you fuckin’ are you'd rather go back to bein a fuckin Stepford wife than stay here and make this work.” Her face fell into hurt. “Fuck you” she said softly. I did not see her leave, but heard the door slam. I remember that it echoed across the bare walls.
10 Years Later Athena gathered a hunk of fresh greens into her basket. She raked sweat from her forehead and even from fifty feet away, half-hidden between the swivel of shoppers, her eyes found mine. For a second we just stared, suspended by a decade of waiting and wondering. Then one look lifted us like party balloons, all helium and heartache. Together we rose higher and higher and higher. Floating there for a moment as our feet dangled above the miniature tents and microscopic fruits. For a moment, our smiles interrupted the clouds. Back on the ground, a deep voice called out. “Athena! Athena!” She turned towards a tall man in a crisp button down and two gangly teenagers who had her eyes. They all walked back towards the parking lot. And then gravity betrayed me just the same.