Have You Seen Me? - Kate White Page 0,111
in my office and set off on this crazy journey through the East Village? And end up here? And then Greenbacks? What was I hoping to accomplish?”
Damien reaches for his beer bottle and runs a thumb up and down its side.
“Maybe it’s not all that complicated. You could try looking at it literally and see how that sits with you.”
“What do you mean?
“When we spent time together, you told me you used to wander around the East Village. And daydream in a little restaurant there. So maybe you were trying to be in a place that felt good to you and recapture someone you used to be. Or experimented with being.”
I reflect on his words. Is that really what those two days were about? If so, it also would mean that I’d felt a yearning to connect with Damien again.
“It’s funny,” I say. “My father always called me Button because I was so buttoned-up—but there’s a part of me that wants to be different than that. Not a wild child, but freer. I’ve only let that side of me out once in a while.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Not sure. Perhaps I sensed my parents loved the girl who worked extra hard and didn’t cross the line. But more importantly, I think finding Jaycee Long’s body put the fear of God into me. It felt as if I was being punished for breaking the rules.”
“You mean because you’d taken the shortcut that day?”
“Right. I’d never done—”
A thought flits around the edges of my mind, vaguely familiar.
“What?” Damien asks.
“I just remembered something. Another lie I told back then—though, thank god, this isn’t as consequential as the other.”
“Tell me.”
“I told my family and the police that I took the shortcut home because I dillydallied around school that day, but that’s only party true. Believe it or not, I was also looking for arrowheads.”
“Arrowheads?”
“I was fascinated by the whole idea of them, and I’d heard someone say they were all over New Jersey, in fields and woods. That’s probably why I was off the path, kicking at piles of leaves.”
He laughs a little. “Sorry, once again the wrong response, but it’s funny to think of you heading out with that secret plan.”
“Yeah, and unfortunately I paid a price for it. But I never lost my love for arrowheads.”
We’ve finished our drinks and Damien asks if I want another. Part of me wants to linger. I feel at ease in his presence. But I don’t want to complicate my life any more than necessary at the moment. So I tell him no thank you, that I’d better be heading out, and I slip back into my sweater coat.
As I reach into my purse for my wallet, Damien shakes his head.
“I’ve got this,” he says.
“Well, I definitely owe you then, since you got the last one.”
He brushes my cheek with his lips again.
“Want to go arrowhead hunting some time? Believe it or not, that was one of my obsessions as a kid.”
I smile.
“I’d like that. But . . . maybe down the road a little. I’ve got too much to figure out right now.”
I leave him sitting at the bar and head into the night. I walk for a while, north and west, block after block.
I think I do want to see Damien again, but it’s true, I have so much to figure out first. I need to process the end of my marriage and work through the grief that’s sure to slam me when I’m no longer in shock. To commit fully to working with the new doctor so I don’t relapse. To be there for Roger as he weathers his own marital issues. To make certain my career doesn’t take a back seat in the middle of this.
And something else. I liked Damien’s theory about why I chose to wander around the East Village. Maybe I really do need to reconnect with the part of myself that wants to be less buttoned-up. That secretly craves not being so much of a rule follower.
It’s a beautiful night, I realize. The air is nicely crisp, and there’s a light wind on my face. I pass a small market selling pumpkins out front, both orange and white ones, and pot after pot of mums. I have a sudden recollection from years ago of me and my mother making a list of costume ideas for Halloween. I wanted to be Batman, I told her, and she smiled and said, Perfect.
A free cab shoots by and I almost try to grab it, but don’t. I feel the urge to keep walking. To be a city girl again.
As I wait for a traffic light to change, I think of the financial mantra many businesses live by: “The bottom line is the only line that matters.” In certain contexts, I don’t buy that philosophy, but at this moment in time, it makes sense for me on a personal level. When all is said and done, who do I really want to be? That’s what I need to know.