Page 62 - In Five Years

But I don’t have time to respond because the doors are opening, delivering us
straight into the apartment from four and a half years ago. I know immediately,
without having to take a step inside, that it’s the one. Of course it is. Where else
did I think this morning would deposit me?

But the apartment isn’t at all what it was—or will be. It’s a construction site.
Old wood beams sit piled in a corner. Plumbing and wires hang unfinished from

outlets. There’s a wall where I do not remember one being. No appliances. No
running water. The space is raw—open, honest—not a stitch of makeup on.
“Job for an architect,” I say. “I get it now.”
But Aaron hasn’t heard me. He’s busy leaning his bike up against a wall—

where I remember the kitchen being—and stepping back to survey the place. I
watch him cross the apartment, walk over to the windows. He turns around,

taking in the long view.
“Bella wants to live here?” I ask. Her apartment is perfect, an actual dream.
She bought it before it even came to market, fully renovated. She has three

bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a galley kitchen. I can’t understand her
wanting to move. She decorated that place for two full years. She still claims to
not be done.

But Bella has always been one for a project. She loves potential, possibility,
an unknown terrain such as this one. The only trouble is she rarely, if ever, sees
anything through. I’ve seen her spend obscene amounts of money on projects

and renovations that never ultimately come together. There was the Paris
apartment, the LA loft, the jewelry line, the Thai silk scarf company, the shared
artists space in Greenpoint. The list is long.

“She does,” Aaron says. “Or at least see if she can.” He’s speaking quietly.
His attention isn’t on his words but instead on his surroundings. I can see him
sketching, drawing, molding this place to life in his head.

They’ve only been together two months. Eight weeks. Granted that’s two
weeks longer than Bella’s longest relationship, but still—David didn’t even
know my middle name at the end of two months. The fact that Aaron is here—

looking at a place for Bella to live? That he’s tapping the walls and stomping the
floorboards—it gives me pause. Whatever level they’re at, this quickly, isn’t
good.

“Seems like a big project,” I say.