The Choice

“I could probably handle that.”

“It’s a start.”

“And a finish.”

“That goes without saying.”

On the other side of the creek, the setting sun was changing the sky to a golden palette of colors that stretched across the horizon. Travis pulled another chair closer and propped his feet on it. Gabby stared across the water, feeling a sense of well-being she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Tell me about Africa,” she said. “Is it as otherwordly as it seems?”

“It was for me,” he said. “I kept wanting to go back. Like something in my genes recognized it as home, even though there was so little there that I saw that reminded me of the world I came from.”

“Did you see any lions or elephants?”

“Many.”

“Was that amazing?”

“It’s something I’ll never forget.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’m envious.”

“Then go. And if you do, make sure you visit Victoria Falls. It’s the most amazing place I’ve ever seen. The rainbows, the mist, the incredible roar—it’s like you’re standing on the very edge of the world.”

She smiled dreamily. “How long were you there?”

“Which time?”

“How many times have you been there?”

“Three.”

She tried to imagine living a life so free but somehow failed. “Tell me about all of them.”

They talked quietly for a long time, dusk giving way to darkness. His colorful descriptions of people and places were vivid and detailed, making her feel as if she’d been alongside him, and she found herself wondering how many times, and with how many other women, he’d shared these stories. Halfway through, he rose from the table and brought back two bottles of water, respecting her earlier comment, and the appreciation she felt added to her growing sense of affection for Travis. Though she knew it was wrong, she was somehow unable to stop it.

By the time they got up to bring the dishes into the house, stars were twinkling overhead. While Travis rinsed the dishes, Gabby toured Travis’s living room, thinking it was less like a bachelor pad than she’d imagined it would be. The furniture was comfortable and stylish, brown leather couches, walnut end tables, and brass lamps, and while the room was clean, it wasn’t obsessively so. Magazines were stacked haphazardly on the television, and she could see a thin layer of dust on the stereo, which somehow seemed just right. Instead of artwork lining the walls, there were movie posters that reflected Travis’s eclectic taste: Casablanca on one wall, Die Hard on another, with Home Alone right next to that. Behind her, she heard the faucet stop, and a moment later, Travis stepped into the room.

She smiled. “You ready to go soak our feet?”

“As long as you don’t show too much skin.”

They wandered back outside to the hot tub. Travis flipped open the cover and set it aside while Gabby removed her sandals; a moment later, they were sitting beside each other, their feet swishing back and forth. Gabby stared upward, tracing images in the skies above her.

“What are you thinking about?” Travis asked.

“The stars,” she said. “I bought an astronomy book, and I’m trying to see if I remember anything.”

“Do you?”

“Just the big ones. The obvious ones.” She pointed toward the house. “Go straight up from the chimney about two fists and you’ll see Orion’s belt. Betelgeuse is on Orion’s left shoulder, and Rigel is the name of his foot. He has two hunting dogs. The bright star over there is Sirius, and that’s part of Canis Major, and Procyon is part of Canis Minor.”

Travis spotted Orion’s belt, and though he tried to follow her direction, he couldn’t make out the others. “I’m not sure I see the other two.”

“I can’t, either. I just know they’re there.”

He pointed over her shoulder. “I can see the Big Dipper. Right over there. That’s the only one I can always find.”

“It’s also known as the Big Bear, or Ursa Major. Did you know that a bear figure has been associated with that constellation since the ice age?”

“I can’t say that I did.”

“I just love the names, even if I can’t make out all the constellations yet. Canes Venatici, Coma Berenices, the Pleiades, Antinous, Cassiopeia . . . their names sound like music.”

“I take it this is a new hobby of yours.”

“It’s more like good intentions buried in the detritus of daily life. But for a couple of days there, I was really into it.”

He laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

“I know my limitations. Still, I wish I knew more. When I was in seventh grade, I had a teacher who loved astronomy. He had this way of talking about stars that made you remember them forever.”

“What did he say?’

“That staring at the stars was like staring backward in time, since some stars are so far away that their light takes millions of years just to reach us. That we see stars not as they look now, but as they were when dinosaurs roamed the earth. The whole concept just struck me as . . . amazing somehow.”

“He sounds like a great teacher.”

“He was. And we learned a lot, although I’ve forgotten most of it, as you can tell. But the feeling of wonder is still there. When I stare at the sky, I just know that someone was doing the exact same thing thousands of years ago.”

Travis watched her, entranced by the sound of her voice in the darkness.

“And what’s strange,” she went on, “is that even though we know so much more about the universe, ordinary people today know less about the daily sky than our ancestors. Even without telescopes or mathematics or even the knowledge that the world was round, they used stars to navigate, they scanned the sky for specific constellations to know when to plant their crops, they used stars when constructing buildings, they learned to predict eclipses . . . it just makes me wonder what it was like to live so faithfully by the stars.” Lost in thought, she was quiet for a long moment. “Sorry. I’m probably boring you.”

“Not at all. In fact, I’ll never think of stars in the same way again.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Absolutely not,” he said seriously.

His gaze held hers. She had the sudden sense that he was about to kiss her, and she quickly turned away. In that moment, she was acutely aware of the sound of frogs calling from the marsh grass and crickets singing in the trees. The moon had reached its apex, casting a shimmery glow around them. Gabby moved her feet nervously in the water, knowing she should leave.

“I think my feet are getting wrinkled,” she said.

“Do you want me to get a towel?”

“No, that’s okay. But I should probably be going. It’s getting late.”

He stood and offered a hand. When she took it, she felt the warmth and strength in it. “I’ll walk you back.”

“I’m sure I can find my way.”

“Just to the bushes, then.”

At the table, she picked up her sandals and spotted Moby heading their way. He trotted up to them just as they stepped onto the grass, his tongue flapping happily. Moby circled them before charging toward the water, as if making sure nothing was hiding. He came to a stop with front paws slapping, then charged off in another direction.

“Moby is a dog with boundless curiosity and enthusiasm,” Travis observed.

“Kind of like you.”

“Kind of. Except I don’t roll in fish guts.”

She smiled. The grass was soft underfoot, and they reached the hedge a moment later. “I had a wonderful time today,” she said. “And tonight, too.”

“So did I. And thanks for the astronomy lesson.”

“I’ll do better next time. I’ll impress you with my stellar knowledge.”

He laughed. “Nice pun. Did you just think of that?”

“No, that was my teacher again. That’s what he used to say when class was ending.”

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nbsp; Travis shuffled his feet, then looked up at Gabby again. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing really. I know I have to go to the grocery store. Why?”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“On your motorcycle?”

“I want to show you something. And it’ll be fun—I promise. I’ll even bring lunch.”

She hesitated. It was a simple question, and she knew what the answer should be, especially if she wanted to keep her life from getting complicated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea” was all she had to say, and it would be over.

She thought about Kevin and the guilt she’d felt minutes earlier, about the choice she’d made by moving here in the first place. Yet despite those things, or maybe even because of them, she found herself beginning to smile.

“Sure,” she said. “What time?’

If he seemed surprised by her answer, he didn’t show it. “How about eleven? I’ll give you a chance to sleep in.”

She raised a hand to her hair. “Well, listen, thanks again. . . .”

“Yeah, you too. See you tomorrow.”

For an instant, she thought she’d simply turn and leave. But again their eyes met and held for just a beat too long, and before she realized what was happening, Travis placed a hand on her hip and pulled her toward him. He kissed her, his lips neither soft nor hard against hers. It took an instant for her brain to register what was happening, and then she pushed him back.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“I couldn’t help it.” He shrugged, seeming not the least bit apologetic. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You know I have a boyfriend,” she repeated, knowing that deep down she hadn’t minded the kiss at all and hating herself for it.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said, holding up her hands, keeping him at a distance. “Just forget about it. But it’s not going to happen again, okay?”

“Right.”

“Right,” she repeated, suddenly wanting to go home. She shouldn’t have put herself in this position. She’d known what was going to happen, she’d even warned herself about it, and sure enough, she’d been right.

She turned and started through the hedge, breathing fast. He’d kissed her! She still couldn’t believe it. Though she intended to march straight to her door, making sure he realized how adamant she’d been about not wanting it to happen again, she snuck a peek over her shoulder and was mortified to realize he’d seen her. He raised a hand in a relaxed wave.