I needed to get to her.
When I finally made it to her building, I double-checked the address I’d jotted down on a small piece of paper. Her last name, Hansen, was written in pen next to apartment 7b on the listing inside the main entrance.
There was no answer. I nixed the idea of calling or texting her because I worried she’d say she didn’t want to meet with me before I had a chance to see her. I came all the way here. I needed to at least see her face.
The restaurant downstairs served as the perfect waiting spot before trying her door again in another hour.
I knocked on that door every hour on the hour from four in the afternoon until nine at night. Each time, there was no answer, and I’d just go back to Charlie’s Pub and wait.
The time was 9:15. I’d never forget the moment I got my wish.
I got to see her.
But it wasn’t the way I wanted it to happen.
Greta.
She was wearing a thick off-white parka as she came strolling into Charlie’s. She wasn’t alone. A guy—who looked a hell of a lot more put together than me—had his arm wrapped around her.
The greasy food in my stomach started to come up on me.
She was laughing as they took a seat in the middle of the restaurant. She looked happy. She didn’t notice me because her back was facing me as I sat in a corner booth.
Her hair was tied up in a twist. I watched as she unwound the lavender scarf she’d been wearing, revealing the back of her beautiful neck—the neck I was supposed to be kissing tonight after I told her how much I loved her.
The guy leaned in and kissed her gently on the face.
A voice inside of me screamed, “Don’t touch her!”
His lips mouthed the words, “I love you.”
What was I supposed to do? Go over there and say, “Oh hello, I’m Greta’s stepbrother. I fucked the shit out of her once and left the very next day. She seems happy with you, and you probably actually deserve her, but I was hoping you could step aside and let me take over from here.”
A half-hour went by. I watched the waiter bring them their food. I watched them eat. I watched the guy reach over a dozen more times to kiss her. I’d close my eyes and listen to the sound of her sweet laughter. I didn’t know why I stayed. I just couldn’t get myself to leave her. I knew it was likely the last time I’d ever see her.
10:15: Greta got up from her seat and let him place her coat over her shoulders. She never once looked in my direction. I hadn’t considered what I would have done if she noticed me. I was too numb to move or even think clearly.
I watched her every second until the door closed behind them.
That night, I wandered the city and eventually ended up with the masses in Times Square watching the ball drop. Amidst the confetti, noisemakers and cheering, I wondered how I’d even gotten there because I was still in a daze since leaving the restaurant.
A random middle-aged woman grabbed me and hugged me when the clock struck midnight. She couldn’t have known it, but I’d never needed a hug in my life more than that moment.
I boarded a plane back to California the next morning.
A few months later, Randy had called the house for the first time in almost a year. I casually asked about Greta, and he told me she’d gotten engaged. That was the last time I ever mentioned her name.
It took me almost three years before I could really move on with someone else.
***
I had to stop. I threw my kindle across the room. My eyes were so filled with tears that the words were becoming blurry toward the end.
I closed my eyes tightly to see if I could recall anything that could have clued me into the fact that Elec was there. He was there. How could I not have known he was right behind me?
He’d come for me.
It still hadn’t fully sunk in.
I remembered that night.
I remembered Tim and I were still in the honeymoon stage of our relationship. Things were going well.
I remembered even though it was New Years Eve, we’d been out all day shopping for a new computer for me.
I remembered we stopped at my apartment to drop it off and then headed into Charlie’s for a late dinner before going to Times Square to watch the ball drop.
I remembered when the clock struck 12, Tim warmed me from the cold with his kisses.
I remembered wondering why in the midst of this magical night with a man who was seemingly perfect and who truly cared about me, all I wanted was Elec. All I had been able to think about was Elec: where he was at that very moment, whether he was watching the festivities on TV, whether he was thinking of me, too.
All the while, Elec was right there.
Fate had screwed us over.
***
In the next couple of chapters, he wrote about finding a career path that was meaningful, and how he came to settle on social work. He felt a responsibility to help others, particularly children who’d come from broken homes like he had.