How many times will I have to endure kissing someone for the first time? Although Darcy says she will miss this element of single life, I have no fondness for it. Except for my first real kiss with Dex, which was absolute magic. I wonder if James is thinking about Kate as much as I am thinking about Dex. After a reasonably long time, James's hand drifts up my shirt. I do not object. His touch is not altogether unpleasant, and I think, why not? Let him sample an American breast.
After a half hour of minor-to-significant groping, James asks me to spend the night, says that he doesn't want to sleep with me-well, he does, he says, but he won't try. And I almost agree, but then I learn that James has no saline solution. I can't sleep in my contact lenses, and I left my glasses at home. So that is that. It seems amusing that James's 20/20 vision prevents me from a potentially promiscuous move.
We kiss for a bit longer, listening to his Barenaked Ladies CD. The songs remind me of graduating from law school, dating Nate, being dumped by Nate. I hear the lyrics and remember the sadness.
Songs and smells will bring you back to a moment in time more than anything else. It's amazing how much can be conjured with a few notes of a song or a solitary whiff of a room. A song you didn't even pay attention to at the time, a place that you didn't even know had a particular smell. I wonder what will someday bring back Dex and our few months together. Maybe the sound of Dido's voice. Maybe the scent of the Aveda shampoo that I've been using all summer.
Someday being with Dex will be a distant memory. This fact makes me sad too. It's like when someone dies, the initial stages of grief seem to be the worst. But in some ways, it's sadder as time goes by and you consider how much they've missed in your life. In the world.
As James walks me back to Ethan's flat, he turns to me and says, 'Do you want to go to Leeds Castle with me tomorrow? Ethan too?'
'What's Leeds Castle?' I ask, realizing that it's probably like asking what the Empire State Building is.
'It's a castle that was a Norman stronghold and a royal residence for six medieval queens. It's really quite lovely. There's an open-air theater nearby. It is a bit touristy, but you are a tourist after all, aren't you?'
I am beginning to notice that Brits put a little question tag at the end of every statement, looking for affirmation.
I give it to him. 'I am a tourist, yes.'
Then I tell him that Leeds Castle sounds perfect. Because it does sound nice. And because everything I do, every person I meet, puts a certain distance between Dex and me. Time heals all wounds, particularly if you pack a bunch of stuff into that time.
'Ask Ethan what he thinks about it. And call me.' He writes his phone number on the back of a gum wrapper I find in my purse. 'I'll be around.'
I thank him for a nice night. He kisses me again, his hand on the back of my neck.
'Snogging someone new right after a big breakup. Love it or hate it?' he asks.
I laugh. 'Love it.'
James smirks. 'I concur.'
I unlock Ethan's door, wondering if James is lying too.
The next morning Ethan stumbles bleary-eyed into the kitchen, where I am pouring myself a glass of pulp- free orange juice.
'So? You in love with James?'
'Madly.'
He scratches his head. 'Seriously?'
'No. But it was fun.'
I realize that I can't even recall exactly what James looks like. I keep picturing this guy from my Federal Income Tax class in law school instead. 'He wants to meet up with us today. Go to some palace or castle together.'
'Hmmm. A palace or castle in England. That narrows it down.'
'Leeds or something?'
Ethan nods. 'Yeah, Leeds Castle is nice. Is that what you want to do?'
'I don't know. Why not?' I say.
It seems like a waste of time and a lot of effort to make more conversation with James, but I call him anyway, and we all end up going to Leeds Castle for the day. Phoebe and Martin come too. Apparently all of Ethan's friends make their own work schedules because none of them seem to think twice about taking off on a random Wednesday. I think of how different my life is back in New York, with Les looming over me, even on the weekends.
It is a warm day, nearly hot by London standards. We explore the castle and grounds, have a picnic lunch in the grass. At one point, Phoebe asks me, loud enough for everyone to hear, if I've taken a shine to James. I look at James, who rolls his eyes at Phoebe. Then I smile and tell her, in the same volume, that he is quite nice, if only he lived in New York. I figure, what does it hurt to compliment him? If he genuinely likes me, he'll be happy to hear it. And if he doesn't, he will feel safe because of the distance.
''So why don't you move to London?' she asks. 'Ethan says you positively despise your job. Why not move here and find something? It would be a nice change of scenery, wouldn't it?'
I laugh and tell her that I can't do that. But it occurs to me, as we sit by a peaceful lake and admire the fairy-tale castle in the English countryside, that I could, in fact, do exactly that. Maybe the thing to do after you roll the dice-and lose-is simply pick them up and roll them again. I imagine handing Les my letter of resignation. It would be incredibly satisfying. And I wouldn't have to deal with seeing Dex and Darcy on a regular basis. I wonder how a good therapist would characterize the move-as running away or creating a fresh, healthy start?
On my last night in London, Ethan and I are back at his favorite pub, which is starting to feel like my local. I ask Ethan what he thinks of the idea of my moving to London. Within fifteen minutes he has me all moved into his neighborhood. He knows of a flat, a job, and several guys, if James isn't ideal, all of whom have straight, white teeth (because I have commented on the Brits' poor dental work). He says do it. Just do it. He makes it sound so simple. It is simple. The seed is more than just planted. It is growing and sprouting a tiny bud.
Ethan continues. 'You should get away from Darcy. That toxic friendship… It's unhealthy. And it's only going to be more destructive when you have to see them after the wedding.'
'I know,' I say, pushing a fry through mushy peas.
'And even if you stay in New York, I think it's essential that you pare back that friendship. It's not even a real friendship if she only wants to beat you.'
'It's not as malicious as you make it sound,' I say, wondering why I am defending her.
'You're right. It's not just for the sake of defeating you. I think she just respects you so much that she wants to beat you to win your respect… You'll note that she's not going out of her way to show up Annalise. It's just you. But sometimes I think you get sucked into it, and your whole dynamic becomes more about competing than true friendship.' He gives me a knowing, parental look.
'You think that I like Dex for the same reason-to compete with Darcy. Don't you?'
He clears his throat and dabs his napkin to his lips, replaces it to his lap. 'Well? Is it possible?' he asks.
I shake my head. 'No way. You can't trick yourself into the feelings I have. Had,' I say.
'Okay. It was just a theory.'
'Absolutely not. It was the real deal.'
But as I fall asleep that night in Ethan's bed (he insisted on taking the couch all week), I wonder about this theory of his. Is it possible that the thrill I felt when I kissed Dex had more to do with the titillation of being bad, breaking rules, having something that belonged to Darcy? Maybe my affair with Dex was about rebelling against my own safe choices, against Darcy and years of feeling deficient. I am disturbed by the idea, because you never like to think that you are a slave to these sorts of subliminal pulls. But at the same time, the idea consoles me. If I liked Dex for these reasons, then I don't love him after all. And it should be a whole lot easier for me to move on.
But the next day, as Ethan takes the tube with me to Paddington Station, I know, again, that I really do love Dex, and probably will for a very long time. I buy my ticket for the Heathrow Express. The board tells us that the next train will depart in three minutes, so we walk to the designated platform. 'You know what you're doing, right?' he asks protectively.
For a second, I think he is asking me about my life, then I realize he is only inquiring about travel logistics. 'Yes. This goes straight to Heathrow, right?'
