The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Seventeen
I’m taking a final look around the apartment. Half a decade comes with some nostalgia for sure. I thought I was happy here for a while. Things were good. Fresh out of college, starting my journalism career, I was in a relationship with a man all my girlfriends wanted to date.
We’re not the same people we used to be back in 2013. I’m not the same person.
I’m about to go out the door when my cell rings. It’s Alisa.
She sounds agitated, and her voice is pitchy—a sign that she’s excited about something.
“You won’t believe what I’m reading now.”
“What?”
A locked-room mystery? A baffling disappearance? Definitely another submission she’s enthusiastic about. Alisa now handles the Thriller/Mystery Fiction Division for her publisher. She’s been on a roll lately, signing new authors left and right. I got to read some of those early copies—she always mails them to me—and every time I do, I understand why she wants to sign those authors right away, and I get jealous and insecure all over again.
“Listen, OK? This is Max Meridian’s story, a thirty-something unlucky in love Californian who has big dreams of becoming a successful artist but works as a rideshare driver to make a living. On a day like any other, while Max is on his way to pick up a client, a phone rings inside his car. A woman is calling. When Max answers, he doesn’t imagine that in the next twenty-four hours, this woman will mend his lonely heart and make him believe again in the magic of love and fate. Will this story end tragically or with a happily ever after when the morning comes and he doesn’t meet her as planned? Inspired by the real-life love story of a young artist the author has known all of his life. This is a deeply touching and spellbindingly beautiful novel about the kind of love that once found, cannot ever be forgotten, about the magic of serendipity and the heartbreak of ill timing.”
I gasp. “What is this?”
“The blurb for a book that’s about to be published.”
“A book? One of your books?”
Such a dumb reaction, but my brain is completely blocked.
“Does this sound like a thriller to you? Nothing to do with me or our imprint. I just heard about it from a scout I met who couldn’t stop raving about it so I got her to send me the blurb. Apparently, the man who wrote the novel is a New York Times bestselling author, but I’m not up to date with romance authors. His name is Ethan Delphy.”
“Ethan Delphy,” I repeat. “Can you please read the whole thing again? And slowly.”
She chuckles. “Sure.”
When she finishes, I’m just as shocked as I was the first time she read it.
After I finished my manuscript, I wrote a blurb for it as a way of killing time. I don’t know if I kept it, but it sounded just like this one. Except it wasn’t the story of Max Meridian, the driver who meets a woman, it was the story of Dawn Davis who meets a driver in California.
I’m speechless.
“It’s uncanny, isn’t it? The resemblance to your Carmel story.”
Over the last year, Alisa has had to suffer through countless retellings, late-night analyses over Skype and ridiculous never-ending scenarios about that day.
“Yes, it’s uncanny.”
“It could be a coincidence,” she says.
“Max Meridian,” I repeat his name and start laughing.
It’s definitely a nervous laugh.
“Melodic name,” says Alisa.
“That’s not the point. Remember why I called him Max?”
“The Gladiator?”
“And what was his full name?”
“I don’t know. Maximus something.”
“Meridius,” I say.
“Jeez. The guy has a sense of humor,” she says.
“What did you say the author’s name is?”
“Ethan Delphy. Have you heard of him? Read any of his books?” she asks.
“No. I don’t think so. I just… I’m so confused. I don’t understand how this Ethan Delphy guy found out about my day.”
“I just read it to you. Inspired by the real-life love story of a young artist the author has known all of his life. I guess Max, or whatever his name is, and the writer are friends. If I was a writer, I could’ve written the story too. I know all the details. Maybe even better than you.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” I say firmly.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not your story to tell.”
“You sound grumpy. I thought you’d be happy. You’ve been fixated on this man and that day. This is good news. We can reach out to Ethan Delphy, ask for the dude’s contact details, talk to him and that’s that. Finally getting what you want.”
“Yes, sure, I guess. Can I call you a bit later?” I ask.
“Sure. I’ll do some digging in the meantime.”
I think I should be happy like Alisa says, but instead, I’m numb. I’m having difficulty breathing as if a heavy weight is sitting on my chest.
I’ve spent this past year coming up with reasons why Max didn’t show up, why he didn’t contact me. I was convinced something must’ve happened. It sounds like nothing happened; he just made the decision not to come. But why? I don’t understand.
Just like I don’t understand why he’d tell someone about our day. It’s called a magical love story that changed him forever. So he did fall in love with me just like I fell in love with him. Then what happened? I need to know. I need to understand. I want him, whoever he is, to look into my eyes and tell me. He owes me at least that.
Alisa calls again. “I emailed his editor, but it’s Sunday so she might not respond. She’s in New York so it’s still early though. I asked for Ethan Delphy’s email address.”
“Do you think you could get the book?”
“I’m going to try to get an early review copy, yes. What’s the plan? You want to read the book before you get in touch with him?”
“I don’t know if I want to learn the truth from a book or if it’s better to hear it from him.”
“Keep in mind this is a work of fiction. I don’t know Delphy’s style, but he might’ve added or removed events or reinterpreted them. He wouldn’t be a writer otherwise,” she says. “OK, I’ll talk to you later.” She chuckles. “Hey, this feels like a secret mission.”
“Except that it isn’t. It’s my life,” I say bitterly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s OK. I’m sorry. I’m still trying to process all this. I’m grateful, Alisa, for everything. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’d love to help and get you two in front of each other.”