Page 178 - In Five Years

“It’s the women who run Yahtzee. They don’t want to sell right now, but they
want me to head up legal.”
“I’m so proud of you,” David says. “Will it still involve being in California?”
“Probably a little bit, but we haven’t gotten there yet. I’m just excited because

it’s the right thing, you know? Like I felt it. I knew it was the right thing.”
I hear background talking. David doesn’t answer immediately. “Yeah,” he

says. “Good.” Then: “Hang on.”
“Me?”
“No,” he says. “No. Listen, I have to go. Let’s celebrate tonight. Whenever
you want. Email Lydia, and she’ll make a reservation.” He hangs up.

I feel lonely then, the sensation of which spreads out like a fever, until the
whole of my body is afflicted. I shouldn’t. David is supportive. He’s encouraging

and understanding. He wants me to succeed. He cares about my career. He’ll
sacrifice for me to have what I want. I know this is the covenant we made: that
we will not get in each other’s ways.

But, sitting here at my desk, I realize something else. We’ve been on these
parallel tracks, David and I. Moving constantly forward in space but never
actually touching, for fear of throwing each other off course. Like if we were

aligned in the same direction, we’d never have to compromise. But the thing
about parallel tracks is you can be inches apart, or miles. And lately it feels like
the width between David and me is extraordinary. We just didn’t notice because

we were still looking at the same horizon. But it dawns on me that I want
someone in my way. I want us to collide.
I call Lydia. I ask her to make a reservation at Dante, an Italian café in the

West Village we both love. 7:30 p.m.