The Other Side of Someday (9 page)

Feeling a tug on the leash, I snapped out of my thoughts and retreated from Sebby’s door, allowing Sport to drag me into the elevator, through the lobby, and across the street toward our usual morning destination.

As I navigated down the pathway at a leisurely pace, the closer we got to the park bench, the more clammy my hands became. My heart rate picked up and nausea settled in my stomach. I didn’t know if it was from all the liquor I had consumed the night before or if it was the prospect of seeing Sebby. What if he was here but wasn’t expecting me to show up? What if he gave some thought to my intoxicated outburst and came to the conclusion that I was right? That men and women couldn’t just be friends. I never considered that he would want to end our “friendship”. Now, the notion unsettled me.

Instead of being consumed by my thoughts, I should have been paying attention to Sport. He darted away from me and toward our park bench, jumping onto the dog he must have missed while her owner was out of town.

“Reminds me of a certain day a few weeks ago,” that familiar deep voice commented. “Apart from the bloody nose, of course.”
 

“That can definitely be rectified if you’re into that kind of thing,” I joked, biting my lip. Shifting from foot to foot, I remained standing, feeling awkward. Sebby held a cup of coffee toward me, and I eyed it skeptically. He was acting as if nothing had changed. And maybe I was making a bigger deal out of it than it was. Maybe nothing
had
changed.

Relaxing, I took the coffee from him and lowered myself onto the bench. I avoided his eyes, staring out over the ocean at what appeared to be storm clouds in the distance. A heavy silence settled between us and I didn’t know if I should be the first one to speak or not.

“So…,” I started.

“I didn’t…,” he said simultaneously. Our eyes met. It was obvious we were both uneasy about where our newfound knowledge left us. “You go first,” he prompted, always the gentleman.

“Nah. I’m not sure what I was going to say anyway.”

Drawing in a breath, he licked his lips, toying with the beverage sleeve on his coffee cup. “I was just going to say that I didn’t expect you to show up today.”

“I almost didn’t,” I confessed.

“Why?”

“Is that your question for today?” I took a sip of my coffee.

A small smile crossed his lips. “No. I have a good one planned and that’s not it. Call it me just wanting to clear the air.”

“I thought we did that last night,” I remarked, although I knew that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“You were pretty tipsy last night, Baylee. I want to see what
sober
Baylee has to say.”

“What is there to say, Sebby?” I exhaled. “So what? The guy I unceremoniously gave a bloody nose to just so happens to be my mysterious absentee neighbor. Nothing’s changed.”

“And what about your argument last night that men and women can never truly be friends?”

“The jury’s still out on that one, I suppose,” I admitted truthfully.

“Will you at least give me the chance to prove they can? I hate the thought of not being friends with you just because you don’t think it’s possible.”

“You honestly think you can prove that to me?” I raised my eyebrows, unconvinced.

“I sure do. When I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll see when you look at me is a eunuch.”

I grimaced, a playful look of horror on my face. “But you’re
not
, are you?”

“Why?” he asked in a high-pitched voice. “Would that bother you?”

Shaking my head, I punched him lightly in the arm. “Jackass.”

“It took you this long to figure that one out? I’m beginning to question your observational skills, Baylee…” He stopped short. “You know what? I have no idea what your last name is.”

“Why do you want to know? Plan on stalking me?”

“I don’t need your last name to do that. I know where you live.” He raised his eyebrows in a sinister way, rubbing his hands together.

“You just gave me a reason to sell my place and move.”

“Please don’t,” he begged. “The last person who lived there was the neighbor from hell. She was older and, I swear, had super hearing. Anytime I came home from work late and made any noise, she would shout at me. It felt like I was living across the hall from my grandma. Finally, her son decided to put her in assisted living. I had a feeling she wasn’t all there mentally. She was convinced people were breaking into her condo during the day and stealing her dishes. She also had her wedding dress in some sort of display case. She told me that bandits broke in at night and were cutting off pieces of the vintage lace.”

“Really?” It sounded like someone in my family. I was close with my uncle and father, when he was still alive, but my extended family had more branches than a California redwood. I couldn’t keep track of who was married to whom, which kids belonged to which parent, not to mention all the kids born to teen moms because of unplanned pregnancies. My extended family had lots of baby daddies. I had come across an article one day about a woman having her tenth child from a tenth man and was almost certain I was related to her in some capacity.

“I asked her son about it when he was clearing out her condo. He said when they were going through her things, they found a big box containing her chinaware. Apparently, she had used it to eat off of but never washed it so it just sat in a box, dirty, for God knows how long.”

“And the wedding dress?”

“He discovered a bunch of old and faded doilies around the condo. When he held them up to what remained of her wedding dress, he noticed a striking similarity in the lace patterns. She must have started chopping up her dress and making it into doilies to pass the time.”

“I hope I never lose my mind like that,” I commented. “I’d rather someone smother me in my sleep than walk around not knowing who I am.”

“You and me both. Speaking of which… Are you going to share your last name with me?”

“Morgan. Baylee Morgan…” I trailed off, tearing my gaze from his.

“What?” Sebby asked, eyeing me.

“Nothing. It’s just… The last ten years, I was Baylee Cooper. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to call myself Baylee Morgan.”

“I like it.”

“What about you?” I asked. “What’s your last name?”

“Powers.” He offered his hand and I took it in mine. We didn’t shake. We just sat there in silence, absorbed in each other’s touch. When our eyes met, I couldn’t help but think this was something extraordinary… Something magical.

“Well…” I pulled my hand from his, the angel on my shoulder sternly reminding me that he had a girlfriend. “Now that we’ve been formally introduced, we should probably get on with our questions. Don’t want to make you late for the rest of your day.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Remember the day we met?”

“How could I forget? I gave you a bloody nose.”

He laughed briefly. “Well, after I left the coffee shop that day, I doubled back when I realized I had never gotten your name, but it looked like you were deep in thought, reading a book or something. What was it?”

His question caught me off guard. The past few weeks of asking questions hadn’t been too personal, but this one hit deep. I didn’t know if I was ready to share this part of my life with him yet…or ever.

“Remember our deal,” he added, seeing my hesitation. “I get to ask you any question I want and you have to answer it truthfully.”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. Judging by your reluctance to answer, I know I’ve hit on something you probably haven’t talked about in years, if ever. Sometimes, we really want to talk about it, but have no one with whom to do so. I’m your guy.” He beamed. “I’m more than interested in learning about this side of the intriguing Baylee Morgan.”

Drawing in a long breath, I glanced down at my bag where the journal was. I liked keeping it close in case I needed a boost.

“It was my mother’s journal.” I swallowed hard. “She died a few days after I was born. I never got to know her.”

Closing his eyes, Sebby hung his head. “Baylee, I’m sorry.”

“Before I headed out here, my uncle gave me her journal in the hopes that I’d have some guidance on this big adventure of mine.” I reached into my purse and pulled it out, showing him. Flipping through the worn pages, I continued. “I’ve only read a few entries, but she definitely had a unique outlook on the world. She…” I stopped abruptly when I noticed a folded up piece of notebook paper shoved in between a few of the pages toward the back of the journal.

“What’s that?” Sebby asked, noticing my reaction.

“I’m not sure.” Unfolding the piece of paper, my eyes scanned what appeared to be a list, some items scratched out with a date next to each one.
 

“Looks like a bucket list,” he commented.
 

“An unfinished one.” I stared at it, swallowing through the lump in my throat. “She wrote about making a list of things she wanted to do before she died. That’s what she documented in this journal, I guess.” I ran my fingers along the worn cover, silence engulfing us. Turning to Sebby, I asked, “Do you have a bucket list?”

“Is this your question for today?”

Pausing briefly, I nodded. “Yes. Today’s question for you is whether you have a bucket list.”

He reached down and scratched between Gidget’s ears, considering my question. “Well, I don’t really have a bucket list, per se. I have things I’ve always wanted to do, but I’ve never written them down and made it my mission to check them off.”

“Like what?”

He glared at me in a playful way. “I’m pretty sure you already asked your allotted question for the day.”

“It’s a necessary follow-up,” I quipped. “You can’t get off that easily.”

A sly grin crawled across his lips and he slowly turned to face me. Replaying my words in my head and hearing the double entendre, my cheeks turned red.

“Given the right person…” He raised his eyebrows, chuckling.

My mouth curled into a small smile, despite my brain shouting at it not to react. “Just tell me what would be on your bucket list,” I demanded, trying to ignore how carefree and comfortable I felt whenever I was around Sebby. “Perv.”

“Learn to fly,” he replied without missing a beat. “There’s something so romantic and nostalgic about flying. I’ve always been fascinated with air travel, even when I was a little boy. My room was full of model airplanes, and I dreamed of learning to fly one of them.”

“So what’s holding you back now?”

He stared ahead. “You know how it is,” he said after a comfortable silence, the wind whipping around us. I could see rain beginning to fall over the ocean. I knew I should hurry home to avoid getting stuck in a downpour, but I couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to waste any opportunity to spend time with Sebby. “Life gets in the way. I finished high school, went to college, then became obsessed with making a name for myself in this industry. Everything else in my life was put on the back burner.”

“You should do it,” I urged. “I mean, if it’s something you’ve always wanted to do, look into it.”

“And you should finish what your mother started.”

My eyes widened.

“What’s stopping you, Baylee?”

I shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem right to me. This was my mother’s list, and—”

“A list that was never finished. You said you never knew her. Maybe doing this will make you feel closer to her. I think it would be a wonderful tribute…and maybe you’ll find yourself along the way.” He raised himself from the park bench and began to walk away.

“What do you mean by that?” I called after him.

“Exactly what I said,” he replied over his shoulder. “I’ve learned a lot about you over the past several weeks, Baylee. From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re still trying to figure out who you are as a person. It might be good for you to leave yourself open to new things, new experiences.”

I opened my mouth to protest and rattle off a million reasons why completing my mother’s bucket list was the worst idea ever, but he cut me off.

“Just think about it.”

Then he jogged away from me with Gidget, leaving me to give some serious consideration to his proposition.

Bastard
.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

Skydive.

Ride on the back of a motorcycle.

Fly in a private plane.

Watch as many cinematic masterpieces as possible.

Learn to ballroom dance.

Spend the night in a haunted house (a legitimately haunted one, not just a cheesy house decked out with zombies for Halloween).

Break a few rules and don’t get caught.

Go to a farmer’s market and make something with all the fresh produce.

Learn how to skateboard.

Go wine tasting.

Learn how to do yoga (and not just from a workout video. Go to a real yoga class).

Put my feet in the Atlantic Ocean, Gulf of Mexico, and Pacific Ocean…all in one day.

Learn how to surf.

Write a book.

Learn how to toss pizza dough.

Sleep on the beach under the stars.

Have a champagne picnic in Central Park by Bethesda Fountain at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

My eyes ran down the items on my mother’s list that she never got to experience. Her list was quite extensive and my face lit up when I pictured my father and mother doing some of the things she had crossed off…
 

Get a fish pedicure
.

See the Great Barrier Reef
.

Pet a penguin
.

Attend the Kentucky Derby
.

Write something in wet cement
.

Cross the intersection at Abbey Road
.

Watch the sunset from Key West
.

Have a child
.

Since arriving in town, I was unsure of the direction my life would take. I couldn’t just sit around my condo all day and do nothing. I had told myself time and time again that this could be the perfect opportunity for me to do what I had said I would do for years…write a book. Perhaps this list was exactly the inspiration I needed to find my story.