Page 180 - In Five Years

We talked about the insane prices of rent, how it was impossible to find good
Mexican food in New York, and our mutual love of Die Hard.
But I was still focused on Adam. I had hoped that his birthday might be the
night. I had on tight jeans and a black top. I thought we’d flirt—scratch that, I

thought we had been flirting—and that maybe we’d go home together.
Before closing, Adam sauntered over to us and slung an arm over David’s

shoulders. “You guys should get each other’s numbers,” he said. “Could be a
match here.”
I remember feeling devastated. That stabbing sensation you feel when the
curtain is pulled back and what stands before you on the stage is the wide

expanse of nothing. Adam was not into me. He had just made that very, very
clear.

David laughed nervously. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Then he said:
“How about it?”
I gave him my number. He called the next day, and we went out the following

week. Our relationship built slowly, bit by bit. We went for a drink, then a
dinner, then a lunch, then a Broadway show he had been gifted tickets to. We
slept together on that date, the fourth. We dated for two and a half years before

we moved in together. When we did, we kept all of my bedroom furniture and
half of his living room furniture and opened a joint bank account for household
expenses. He went to Trader Joe’s because I thought—and think—the lines are

too long, and I bought the paper goods off Amazon. We RSVP’d to weddings,
threw dinner parties with catered spreads, and climbed the ladders of our careers,
an arm’s length away from each other. We were, weren’t we? An arm’s length

away? If you can reach out and hold the other person’s hand, does the distance
matter? Is simply being able to see someone valuable?
“A pipe burst on the corner of Twelfth Street,” I say. I take off my coat and sit

down, letting the warmth of the restaurant begin to thaw out my bones. We’re
well into November, now. And the weather has turned with us.
“I ordered a bottle of Brunello,” he says. “We liked it the last time we were

here.”
David keeps a spreadsheet of really great meals we’ve had—what we drank
and what we ate—for future reference. He keeps it accessible on his phone for

such situations.