Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,70

never seen the sunrise. Well, maybe in passing, on the way to

school or the airport to catch an early flight. But she’d never woken up specifically to see it, never taken the time to watch the sky lighten from complete darkness to unquestioned day. She’d told him that on their

date at the harbor, and Dave had promised to take her someday. He’d

already picked out the spot where they would go—Brett knew a way

to get to the roof of the school, which gave an unobstructed view clear

to the mountains in the east—but he’d been putting together a playlist

for them to listen to and it wasn’t yet long enough.

Dave looked around their impromptu campsite. Their clothes were

strewn about, one of Dave’s shoes dangerously close to where the fire

had been. A forgotten marshmallow lay in the sand, half-buried next

to the jug of iced tea, which had tipped over on its side. The sound of

cars on the freeway was not yet constant, but Dave knew it would be

soon.

Gretchen would be waking up right about now. He’d watched her

wake up before, though they hadn’t gone as far as he and Julia had.

She’d probably be on her side, curled into a ball, her hands reaching

out to her cell phone as soon as she opened her eyes. He could picture

the glow of the screen reflected on her face, in the big brown eyes

that he’d been looking into so often the last couple of weeks, on those

cheekbones. A sick feeling took root in his stomach.

He looked down at Julia, who kept sleeping peacefully, her breath

steady as a metronome. He couldn’t completely see her mouth, but

he imagined that she’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face and that

it was still there. Unlike him, she would wake up with no one on her

mind but Dave himself.

Dave remembered their countless movie nights, how he’d long for

the loll of her head, which meant the movie was losing her and she’d

soon rest her cheek against his shoulder. Once, they’d both drifted

off, and Dave had woken up in the middle of the night to the movie

playing over again, Julia’s arm looped through his. He’d kept his eyes

closed and pretended to still be sleeping, the joy so simple that he

didn’t dare disturb it. At one point, Julia had stirred, then nestled back into him, as if the same thing was on her mind. Strange now to think

that it might have been, that everything he’d wanted had been well

within reach.

DAVE & JULIA 239

He undoubtedly loved her. It had been an incredible night,

extraordinary despite the clichés that were peppered in the details. It

was a dream come true, literally and metaphorically, except that dream

was now tangled up with the dream of Gretchen.

Dave shifted a little, bringing his hand to Julia’s temple and rubbing

it in slight circles to gently wake her up. He wished he could just focus on this, let her sleep. He wanted to be overjoyed, rather than happy

and wrecked by guilt.

Gretchen was going to be hurt, and angry. She might never talk to

him again. The thought brought a panic in Dave’s chest that made him

want to get up that instant, shake Julia awake, as if leaving could undo it all. But he’d been hoping for exactly this to happen for so long that it was impossible to walk away from it. “Julia,” he said softly, not knowing what else there was to say.

She stirred, but only pressed herself closer against him, planting a

kiss on his chest before resuming her rhythmic breathing. A seagull

suddenly appeared near them, stepping cautiously toward him. It

peered at Dave suspiciously, its eyes little black marbles that saw him

only as a threat. Dave nodded, as if to confirm that he dealt out harm

all the time. The sun climbed higher through the fog. The seagull

made away with the marshmallow. Emptied out by guilt, the shame

rising from his stomach and exuding through his pores, Dave let Julia

sleep a little longer, delaying what was to come for as long as he could.

240 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

RIDICULOUS

THE ONLY WORD Julia could use to describe herself when she woke

up was ridiculous. It was ridiculous to wake up feeling so happy. She

was like the cartoon of someone in love. Any second now animated

bluebirds were going to land on her shoulder and start harmonizing.

She felt like a Jack White guitar riff.

She kissed Dave again as soon as she woke up, laughed at how

much sand there was everywhere. Sitting up, she looked around

at the detritus of their little picnic: the half-empty jug of tea on its side as if it had