The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Sixty-One
“What now?” he asks. “What does this temporary truce entail? Are we going to be civil while I read your book, or what’s the plan?”
“Civil would be nice,” I say. “A truce is a truce.”
He smirks. “The Maya in my book is far less feisty. And stubborn,” he says.
“The Maya in your book is a fictional character. As much as you based her on me, she’s not me. I’m me. And there are a lot more unpleasant surprises where that came from.”
“That sounded like a threat.”
“Just the truth. The real me… this is it. And yes, stubbornness is part of the package.”
“Can you stand walking with me? Not sure on what hate level we’re at,” he says.
I scoff. “Are you always this dramatic?”
“No. Only with you.”
“Lucky me!”
We walk side by side on Scenic Road and after a while, when we take a break from picking on each other, and start talking like normal people, it’s actually quite enjoyable.
I can’t help but feel like for the first time since I came back here, I’m where I’m meant to be. In my quest to find Max, in my inner quest to find myself. My relationship with Ethan has gone in a week through more ups and downs than I’ve ever experienced in any relationship, even the ones that lasted years. I’ve hated him, I’ve liked him, I’ve admired him, envied him, despised him, I’ve felt confused by him, I was amused by him, I was for a brief moment—or two—swept off my feet by him. And now, we’re suddenly friendly, walking together and exchanging small jokes about the guy wearing tight sweats and the tourist snapping selfies in front of trees.
“What about Celine?” I ask as we’re getting close to Café Azure.
“I told her the truth,” he says. “Just now, before I came looking for you.”
“The truth?”
“That it was a publicity thing for Cameron. I suggest we leave it at that.”
“How did she react?”
“She was worried about you and how you took it. I said you agreed to it, to help me.”
“Don’t you feel bad about lying to her?”
“I don’t want to mix her up in this. She has enough on her mind. If she thinks we’re friends and this was a friendly favor, she’ll sleep better at night.”
I nod. “What about Max? Are you sure he didn’t see the paper and he doesn’t know about this?”
He smiles. “Don’t worry.”
“Again with the ‘don’t worry’.”
“Yes, don’t worry,” he repeats.
“Is he on an island in the middle of the Pacific? Or in a non-English-speaking country?”
“Nice try. But you won’t get me to tell you anything. You’re not the first one to try. I’m a master at dodging Max-related questions.”
I groan.
“You know, there are a few things in my book that didn’t make it into the final draft. Things you should know… before meeting—”
“Max?”
He nods. “Maybe I’ll show them to you; these missing pages. Someday. After I read yours and if—”
“If you believe me. I know,” I interrupt.
“I wanted to say if I get to know the true you. And the true you is not someone who’s going to hurt him again.”
I smile. “Someone much wiser than me told me there are no guarantees in life.”
He nods absentmindedly. “So, is the real you the one who was yelling at me earlier or this one, right now?” he asks.
I shrug. “Both.”
“And the one who rolled her eyes during the musical?” he asks.
“You saw that?”
“Yeah. Not a fan?”
“Meh. It was OK,” I say.
“I won’t tell Cameron that. That show is his baby.”
“Let’s not talk about Cameron anymore.”
“OK.”
“And I’m also the one who spilled coffee on you,” I say a minute later.
“Oh, yeah.” He laughs.
“I also snort when I laugh really hard and I cry at romantic movies. I’m picky about what I eat, and I drink too much coffee. I have too many books on my to-be-read list, but I keep buying more and more.”
“That sounds familiar,” he says.
“Which part?”
“All of it. Except for the snorting.”
I smile. We both do.
Back at Café Azure, Celine asks me if I’m OK and I assure her I’m fine. ‘Great.’ While I don’t exactly feel great, I’m not sad or mad or upset either, quite unexpectedly.
The rest of the evening, Ethan and I interact a few times; mostly accidental looks or polite smiles. When we’re next to each other, we don’t talk much.
At night, we all walk home together and talk about what we’ll do for dinner.
“How about I keep my promise and cook something for us?” asks Celine. “And you guys are in charge of the movie.”
“Sure,” says Ethan. “Maya?”
I nod. “If you choose what we’re going to watch,” I say.
“Are you sure?” he asks jokingly. “I have pretty eclectic tastes.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Celine laughs. “You asked for it.”
We quickly decide on the ‘quickest spaghetti dish Celine can make’—all of us famished, none of us very fancy when it comes to food, it seems. Half an hour or so later, we’re sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the most delicious chicken parmesan I’ve ever tasted.
Right before we start watching the movie, the landline rings and Celine asks me to pick up. It’s their mother. I know she calls them every couple of days, but it’s the first time I’ve spoken to her. She sounds like a lovely woman and we hit it off straight away.
“I don’t want to interrupt if you’re getting ready for a movie,” she says kindly. “Just let Celine and Ethan know we’re leaving for Kauai, so if they call, they should use my cell number.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to them?” I ask.
“No, darling,” she says. “It sounds like you’re all having fun. That’s nice,” she says as Celine and Ethan laugh in the background.
When I tell them about Hawaii, they’re not surprised. “They go there for a month, every year. Our godparents live in Kauai. They’ve been asking us to go for a long time—it’s just that we’re both so busy, it never happens.”
“You guys should definitely do it. I wish I had someone asking me to go. I’d drop everything and hop on a plane. I’ve never been to Hawaii, but it’s definitely on my list.”
“We should,” says Celine, half-joking, half-serious. “And take you with us.”
“I doubt Maya would go,” says Ethan.
“Don’t I seem like the adventurous, impulsive type?” I ask teasingly.
Ethan, who’s sitting at the end of the couch—Celine between us—leans forward. “If I asked you to drop everything and go, would you go? Right now?”
I hesitate. “Not right now,” I say and laugh it out because I know he’s joking.
“Tomorrow then?” he asks.
“I can’t tomorrow. I have to work and—”
He interrupts. “See? Case closed. Let’s watch the movie.”
Monty Python’s And Now For Something Completely Different. That’s what we watch.
We all laugh until we can’t breathe anymore and when we eventually go to sleep, my stomach and jaws hurt. Poor Celine, stuck between us on the couch, had to listen to the same bits on repeat because apparently both Ethan and I know the movie by heart.
It was a good night. An excellent night.