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“Answer me this, Ellie,” Paul says.
Ellie flips the phone to speaker, and sets it down. “Yeah?”
“Does burning the sausage add a depth to the flavor?” he asks.
“I mean, it adds burnt flavor?” she offers.
She can’t see him, but she knows he’s rolling his eyes. “I know you don’t have any kind of proper pallet for the culinary arts, but—“
“— wait, hold on.” Ellie waves away his protests, and pounces on her phone, which has buzzed twice in a row. The first notification sends her heart rate sky high.
Aster Flores has requested you as a friend.
The second notification almost gives her a stroke.
Aster Flores would like to connect on Messenger.
“Dude, what’s going on?” Paul complains.
“Aster wants to be my friend on Facebook,” she says.
“Cool.” Paul sounds unimpressed.
“It says she goes to Tisch,” she says, shaking her head.
“Uh, yeah, the art school,” Paul says.
“What?” Ellie’s eyes shoot wide open. “You knew she was in New York, and you didn’t tell me when I transferred to Colombia?”
“I thought you knew?” he tries. “You know everything.”
She flops onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like she’s searching for an answer, though she doesn’t even know what the question is. “Holy shit.”
“You guys should hang out,” Paul says.
“What? No,” Ellie dismisses the idea with a shake of her head, and an artful question about the new sauce Paul is working on.
It’s not a lie when she says it. She really does intend to leave the Aster chapter closed, and she tells herself she’s fine with the whole thing being nothing but a footnote in her life. An important one, but a prequel. A prologue. Definitely not in the heart of her story.
Then she remembers Aster had sent her a message. She figures it would be rude not to reply, and her fingers itch on the screen for all but ten minutes before she’s opening it.
Aster Flores
Active now
[3:46 PM] long time no see
[4:13 PM] Still no see.
It might be the stupidest thing she’s ever said.
[4:14 PM] i suppose that’s true
[4:14 PM] So you go to Tisch now?
[4:17 PM] yeah, and you’re at colombia
[4:17 PM] …?
[4:19 PM] Yeah I am.
[4:19 PM] that’s really cool.
[4:22 PM] Yeah, thanks!
She feels like Paul on his first date with Aster at that little burger joint. Shaking hands, zero coherent thoughts, and an inability to say anything except, “yeah.” She almost wants to just give up and let it go, but the thought of Aster thinking that she isn’t interested in her life probes at her until she sends another message.
[4:23 PM] Would you want to meet up?
[4:25 PM] like in person?
[4:25 PM] That’s the idea.
[4:27 PM] i’d love to
They decide to meet at a cafe in between both of their apartments, which is just so predictable, if the amount of bad rom-coms Ellie has seen is any indication. She orders an earl grey latte to try and calm her nerves, and absent-mindedly says, “Charge me for a large coffee, and put it towards a girl that’s going to come in soon.”
Again, very rom-com. She’s wondering what Aster is even going to look like. She’d told her she couldn’t be different, that she just wouldn’t be able to handle it. It had been a joke, but a challenge for something new. Now, she gets to see if she was right.
As for herself, she plans on playing it cool. Acting as though she’s happy to see her, but totally disengaged from it all, as if she didn’t spend the entire night before drifting in and out of a panicked sleep. The reality ends up much less graceful.
At the sight of Aster reaching for the cafe door, she tries to think of some way to look busy, and her eyes land immediately on her cup. One too-large mouthful of tea later, and her tongue is numb and burning. “Ow, fuck. Shit. Motherfuck.”
“Are you okay?” It’s Aster.
Ellie blames the redness in her cheeks on the sheer amount of pain she’s in. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She pauses. “Fucking hell.”
Aster looks scandalized. “I’ve never heard you swear before.”
“Well, you’ve never seen me burn my face off before, either,” she reasons. Aster smiles. It’s hesitant, and almost like a distraction so Ellie doesn’t focus on the fact that her eyes are scurrying around Ellie’s face. “Do you want to order?”
“Right, yeah,” she breathes. “I’ll be back.”
Ellie tries to busy herself with something that isn’t going to cause her immense pain, but in the end, can’t resist sneaking a little glance at Aster. As soon as her eyes flick up, she catches the tail end of Aster’s hurrying away. She blushes, looking down. Then up again. Aster’s gaze widens, and shifts, yet again.
Oh, my God, she can practically hear Paul say. Are you in high school again? Did the last two years not happen?
He’s right, of course. The whole thing is all too reminiscent of that encounter they had in the bathroom, all those years ago. It was a game of cat and mouse that Ellie is starting to think never really ended.
Aster drops into the seat in front of her, coffee cup in hand. “You didn’t have to pay.”
“Oh, it’s no problem,” Ellie shrugs. “I come here a lot, and they know me,” she says, as if that’s a relevant explanation.
“So, it’s been a couple of years,” Aster says, pushing back her slightly shorter, and definitely darker hair.
“Yeah.” Ellie feels her cheeks start to burn, but she blurts out, “You look different.”
Aster practically scoffs, “You look different.”
“Oh, you mean my entirely new wardrobe?” Ellie teases, gesturing to her clothing that she actually likes, and actually looks good.
“And the hair,” Aster says, gesturing to the gentle waves Ellie has learned to let lie in curtains around her face. “And the lack of baby face. You do look different.” She flushes, just a little, and looks down at her cup. “I guess I do, too, right?”
“It suits you,” Ellie says. Not only has Aster adopted a slightly less feminine, and slightly more alternative clothing style, there’s a lift in her shoulders Ellie can only describe as the opposite of a weight. Aster meets her eyes for the first time, and there’s no more conflict swimming around in the back when she smiles. “So, how’d you land at Tisch?”
Aster exhales, leaning back into her chair. “I worked so fucking hard that first year when I was in Washington. Like, I basically didn’t do anything. If I wasn’t at school, I was doing work, and if I wasn’t doing work, I was thinking about it.”
“Sounds like me in high school,” Ellie muses.
“Yeah, well, it worked, didn’t it?” Aster wiggles her eyebrows. “I applied to transfer, and I got my letter.”
“New York, though?” Ellie asks.
Aster shrugs. “I knew I wanted to go somewhere different than Squahamish, and where better than the greatest city in the world?”
“Me, too,” Ellie admits. “I mean, Iowa was great, but the further I got from Squahamish, the further I wanted to be.”
There’s a slight pause. Aster wrinkles her nose slightly, and Ellie ignores the way her heart flutters. “We’re not running away, right?”
“No, definitely not,” Ellie says, as if she hasn’t thought about that a million times.
There’s a silence that’s way too long, and way too quiet, and Ellie tries to focus on the bustle of the afternoon coffee rush. High schoolers and college kids doing homework, professionals typing away on their laptops, the bean grinder going off every so often, and Aster.
She’s looking up at Ellie, like she’s afraid to say anything for fear of it all disappearing. Eventually, she clears her throat. “So, um, do you still think about it?” Aster chews on the rim of her cup lightly.
“Think about what?” Ellie says dumbly. Aster gives her a look. She sighs. “Yeah, okay. Uh, yeah, I do. A lot, actually.”
“Me, too,” Aster says, and Ellie picks up what she thinks is a bit of relief. “Like, what if we hadn’t been graduating? What if you’d stayed? What if—“
Without thinking, her hand flies out to settle on Aster’s, which are busy shredding a napkin on the table. “— I think it’s good that it happened like this,” Ellie says. “I needed to find myself, and you did, too.”
Aster looks down at their hands, but she doesn’t pull away. “Still so wise.”
Ellie squeezes her hand gently. “I’m still Ellie Chu.”
Aster squeezes back. “Yeah, you are.”
Throughout the walk to the Subway station, the train ride, the transfer, the second ride, and the walk back to her apartment, Ellie’s stuck with a stupid smile plastered across her face. She feels ridiculous, and a couple people even give her a wide berth when they see her coming down the street.
Flopping onto her coach, she hits speed dial.
Paul picks up on the third ring. “What’s up?”
“Dude, she’s amazing.”
“Oh, yeah?” There’s definitely some amusement in his voice, but she ignores it.
“Okay, imagine Aster,” she says.
“Mhm?”
“Now, imagine her happier. Then hotter. Then a lot more confident,” she instructs.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
A pause. “So, are you going to see her again?”
Ellie forces a laugh out of her throat. “You make it sound like it was a date.”
“Wasn’t it?” he asks.
“What? No, of course not,” she says.
“Who asked who to meet up?” he asks.
“I did,” Ellie says. She lifts herself onto her elbows.
“Where did you go?”
“A coffee shop,” she says slowly.
“Did you pay?”
Ellie slams back down on the bed. “Oh, my God. It was kind of a date.”
“Kind of,” he teases. “Only one way to find out, right?”
Aster Flores
Active 32min ago
[5:01 PM] Would it be weird if I invited you over for dinner?
A little green bubble appears next to her name almost immediately as ‘Active 32min ago’ switches to ‘Active now,’ and Ellie tries not to lose it as she fumbles to swipe away from the message screen.
[5:01 PM] not at all, i’d love to
[5:04 PM] Tomorrow?
“Desperate much?” she mumbles.
[5:06 PM] sounds perfect
[5:06 PM] should i bring anything?
[5:07 PM] Just yourself. :)
Immediately, she calls Paul. “Maybe I should cancel. I can say I’m sick, or that I broke my leg, or that you need something.”
“What?” he demands. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she lies.
“You know I support you, right?” he says. There’s a pause, and Ellie swallows thickly.
“Yeah, I know,” she says.
“Look, all that I said about the sin and whatever…” he exhales heavily, and there’s a crackling on the other side of the line as he shifts position. “I didn’t know what I was talking about, okay? I was a stupid kid, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just came up with some bullshit I’d been told my whole life.”
“I know,” she says again.
“And I meant what I said in the church that day,” he continues. “The way you want to love… the way you do love is great. And if what you want is Aster, you should go for it.”
“Thanks, Paul.” Ellie smiles slightly into her pillow, and sighs. “Thank you. You can stop apologizing now.”
She hears him chuckle. “No promises.” Then he sighs, “Look, do the dinner, relax, and have fun. It’s just Aster.”
“It’s not just Aster,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Well, yeah,” he huffs, “but, you know.”
“Dude.”
“Dude,” he mocks. “Come on, El. Why did the whole catfishing thing work in the first place?”
“It wasn’t a catfish,” she refuses, “and, I don’t know, because I’m smart?”
“No,” he says, “because you and Aster got along well. The whole thing started because you had things in common. Now’s your chance to do something about it, only this time, you get to be yourself.”
She thinks about it. Then, “When did you get so smart?”
“After the sausage taco invention,” he says. His tone softens, and Ellie can practically picture the dumb little smile that’s probably on his face right now. “Cook her something good.”
Ellie orders Doordash.
Aster paces around her apartment while they wait, and Ellie tries not to feel judged. “I like it.”
“It’s a studio, so it’s really small,” Ellie shrugs, “but… so am I?”
Aster laughs. “It’s nice. It reminds me of you.” She resumes her tour, but pauses at a guitar hanging on the wall. “Do you still play?”
“Just as a hobby,” Ellie says, “but it’s fun.”
“I remember the talent show,” she says, running her fingers along the carvings on the face.
Ellie steps next to her, not too close, and allows her gaze to fall onto Aster. “You were there?”
“In the back,” Aster says, nodding. She turns, and Ellie suddenly realizes she greatly miscalculated how close their shoulders are from each other. “I snuck in the back. I didn’t sit down. I didn’t even stay for the whole thing, but I saw your song.”
“And?” Ellie asks.
Aster smiles. “And it was amazing.”
Ellie tries to bump her shoulder to lower the tension, but it actually just brings her lips an inch away from Aster’s ear. She blushes, and ducks her head as Aster keeps walking past the bookshelf, the television, and a dying plant, but pauses on a picture of her father. “How is he doing?”
“I keep trying to get him to leave Squahamish,” Ellie admits. She folds her arms across her chest, squeezing gently. “But he doesn’t want to. And I don’t want to push him or anything.”
“But…”
“But he thinks he’s happy,” Ellie says.
“So?”
Ellie frowns. “So, I thought I was happy, too.”
“And now?”
The question is light, but Aster’s words are heavy, and there’s a knowing look in her eyes when she steps just half a foot closer. Ellie’s sure she understands what she’s trying to say when she says, “I’m ecstatic.”
If Ellie thinks it’s weird that four hours go by in what feels like two, she pushes the thought to the side. If she feels herself getting sleepy, she doesn’t mention it, because she’s suddenly all too aware that she doesn’t want Aster to leave. If she wakes to a pitch black room, and realizes they’ve both fallen asleep, she tries not to lose her mind, and do something stupid like wake Aster up.
When her heart starts pounding as she covers Aster with a blanket, she squeezes the fabric to stop her hands from shaking. When she wakes in the morning, and Aster is still there, she promises herself it doesn’t mean anything. When Aster blinks herself awake, looking adorably confused and flustered, Ellie just asks if she wants a coffee or a tea, and when she closes the door to Aster’s retreating back, she resists the urge to immediately text her.
Instead, she calls Paul, as usual.
“Dude, I think I screwed it all up,” she groans.
“What? No!” He sounds horrified. “Why?”
“Well, this morning —“
“She stayed the night?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “What?”
“Dude, you move fast,” he says.
“Oh, my God,” Ellie rolls over and rolls her eyes into her pillow. “ Not like that. I mean, it was an accident, we just fell asleep.”
“So what’s the issue?” he asks.
“This morning, she just kept looking at me funny,” she frowns. She rolls back over, and stares at the ceiling, trying to conjure up a mental image. “Like, she was uncomfortable.”
“What were you wearing?” Paul asks.
“Sweatpants, a tank top,” she says, shrugging. “Why?”
“Ellie, you got hot, remember?” he asks.
Her frown deepens. “You think she was… checking me out?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Ellie can practically picture him shaking his head at her.
She doesn’t know how much she trusts his judgement, but she does get a text from Aster that evening saying, i had fun :), so she figures he must be somewhat right. She rolls her eyes at herself when she feels her palms start sweating at the text notification, and really can’t believe that after two years of no contact, she barely wants to go two days.
She resists the urge to ask her to hang out every single day, though they fill the gaps with an avalanche of text messages, and Ellie’s heart jumps with a longing she didn’t know she had every time Aster messages her first.
Just as she’s wondering whether it’s too early to hang out again, Aster asks if she wants to get dinner. The answer is yes, of course. She’s reaching for a Colombia sweatshirt when she starts to wonder, is this a date? The thought is ridiculous, and she rolls her eyes at herself, but grabs her black bomber jacket instead.
The idea that it could be a date sparks something close to hope that she hasn’t felt in a long time. That alone is nerve-wracking in itself because there’s so much between them, not all of it good. Before Ellie can accept that she wants to try actually dating Aster, for real, she knows they have to talk about it.
Paul would call it unnecessary, Ellie calls it free therapy.
“When did you know?” she asks.
Aster pauses, her water cup halfway to her lips. “About…”
“Yeah.” Ellie blushes. She’s not sure why. “I just thought we should, you know, get it all out.”
"Well, your announcement at the church was pretty obvious," Aster says.
Ellie shakes her head, though there's a smile on her lips. "You're smarter than that. I know you knew before then."
Aster takes her sweet time sipping on her water, then slowly lowering it back to the table. Then, “After my trip.”
“What?” It’s quite possible that is the only answer Ellie wasn’t expecting.
“You looked at my painting, and you called the bit off to the side ‘lonely’,” Aster recalls. She nibbles on bit of bread. “And I just knew. I didn’t understand exactly what was going on, of course, but I knew.”
“But then you took me to the hot springs,” Ellie says. It should be a question, but it comes out as a statement.
“I did,” Aster agrees. “I guess I just was curious.”
“Elaborate?” Ellie asks, barely sparing the waiter a glance when he refills their cups.
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “Curious as to whether you were just doing a friend a favor, curious as to whether you had ulterior motives, curious as to why I wasn’t disappointed when I realized Paul wasn’t at all like I thought, curious about what could happen if I tried to let you know I knew without actually telling you.”
“So you took me to go skinny-dipping?” she demands.
“Why are you freaking out?” Aster just sounds amused.
Ellie shakes her head vigorously. Her hands don’t know what to do with themselves, and she’s pretty sure she might have a stroke, but she says, “I’m not freaking out, I’m normal.”
“Okay,” Aster says. There’s a half smile on her lips masking a hint of uncertainty. “So, yes, I took you to the hot springs. I thought maybe if you actually, you know, meant all the stuff you wrote, I could… influence you to tell me about it.”
“You mean seduce me,” Ellie accuses, huffing at the way she knows her neck is heating up.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Aster says. Ellie’s quiet. Aster’s gaze softens, and the teasing lilt is gone from her voice when she says, “Look, I was young and confused.”
“I’m not mad,” Ellie says. Aster furrows her eyebrows, and looks so thoroughly put off it makes Ellie want to laugh. “If anything, you should be the one with the vendetta.”
“Vendetta?” Aster says. “What is this, the Wild West?”
“What word would you prefer? Feud? Grudge?” Ellie frowns. “Bad blood.”
“Okay, Taylor Swift,” Aster says, rolling her eyes. “There’s no bad blood here, Chu. At least, not from me.”
Ellie’s eyes widen. “Nor me.”
“Good,” Aster says.
Ellie nods. “Yeah. Good.”
And it is.
Sometimes they get dinner, which isn’t doing great things for Ellie’s bank account, especially because she finds herself offering to pay more times than not.
On weekends, they go to museums. The MOMA is a favorite for both of them. Looking at all the pieces created by people who weren’t afraid to destroy a good painting for the risk of a great one is always a gentle reminder of how they met, and the way Aster talks about the art is a reminder of why Ellie kept going with the letters in the first place.
Window shopping is a frequent past time. Once Ellie realizes there’s fashion in between pink dresses and twelve-year-old-boy-whose-clothes-are-chosen-by-mom, she discovers she actually really likes to pick out clothes. Aster has never had a problem in that department, but every so often will point out a shirt or a jacket that surprises Ellie.
And, of course, there’s the bookstores.
Most days, they go in just to find a book, and sit down to read together. Other times, they go in with little games. Find a book you think the other person would love, find a book you think the other person would hate, find a book with a character that reminds you of yourself.
Ellie always read because she didn’t have any friends, but when Aster pulls her by the hand into a small bookshop hidden behind a larger storefront, or when she looks up from across the pages in her lap to wiggle her eyebrows at Ellie, or when they’re lounging on the grass of a park together, taking turns reading a novel aloud, she realizes how social reading can be.
The thing Ellie realizes about Aster that she doesn’t think she’s found with a single person besides Paul is the ability to be together without doing anything. There’s no need to fill the time with an adventure or an activity.
So, they go for a lot of walks, because they can only spend so much time talking and lying on the carpet of Ellie’s apartment together.
At first, they’re practically on opposite ends of the sidewalk, sneaking glances at each other through flushed eyelids, and pretending they don’t notice the tremble in each other’s voices.
Slowly, something shifts, and all of a sudden it’s just natural to be pressed right up against Aster, so close that she could easily lean over and press a kiss to her shoulder. Not that she would. Not that she’s thought about it.
Silence is filled with the sounds of the evenings, and the comforting feeling of being alive. They’re alive, and they’re in New York City. Aster said that she always considered it, if things were different, or if she was different, and Ellie spends more time than she’d care to admit wondering whether this counts as different enough.
Just over a month goes by, and though Ellie still doesn’t believe in God, she’s willing to give the man some credit if He’s what brought them back together. Every time she looks at Aster, she wonders how she got so lucky to be put in the same world as her twice. Every time Aster looks back, her throat catches with the fear she’ll understand what she’s thinking, and yet, at the same time, she wishes she did.
She wishes Aster could look at her with one glance and know all the emotions she’ll never be able to put into words. Sometimes, when the evening is low, their breaths sync up, and Aster tilts her head to the side with that same little smile she’s always done, Ellie thinks she actually can.
Central Park is always gorgeous as ever in the late summer, which is Ellie’s excuse as to why she agrees to stay and watch the sunset, despite her mountains of summer homework waiting for her. The calling of her apartment is ignored in favor of a park bench, and though the air is cooling slightly, though warm breezes keep them comfortable.
Ellie bumps Aster’s shoulder with hers. “So, did you ever marry Trig?” It’s a joke, of course, but Aster frowns. “What?”
She looks down. Her hands fiddle with her phone absent-mindedly, and Ellie’s stomach drops at the way-too-long pause. “I did, actually. Yeah, we got married that summer.”
High-school-Ellie somehow managed to write six different essays on Plato, but current-Ellie can’t think of a single thing to say besides, “Okay.”
“We got divorced,” Aster says, like, Duh, and Ellie feels stupid for caring at all. Aster shakes her head, and almost seems grateful when her hair comes loose from behind her ear and falls over her cheek. “It only took three months, and then I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Why not?” Ellie asks. She focuses on the tree behind Aster, which is hinting at the change in colors to come, but she forces her eyes back.
Aster looks up at her, and there’s just a taste of anger when she says, “Why do you think?”
Ellie just shrugs, and though she means to say, “I don’t know,” it comes out as a silent mouthing of the words.
“For one thing, he’s Trig,” Aster teases. Her smile fades. “For another, I realized I’m gay.”
“Oh?” She tries to hide the surprise on her face. By the amusement on Aster’s, she’s guessing she failed.
“Or at least bi,” Aster supposes. Ellie arches one eyebrow. “I’ve been doing my research.”
“Good for you,” Ellie says, but it’s not condescending in the slightest.
Aster offers her a smile. “I can’t believe I did it.”
“Did what?” Ellie asks.
She exhales a long drawn out breath. “All of it. The divorce, the college, the move. Two years ago, I was living in Squahamish and married to a man. Now, I’m in New York City with you.”
“I’m glad you moved,” Ellie says, and finds herself unconsciously turning slightly to match Aster’s positioning.
“Me, too,” she whispers.
The air is thick with something Ellie can’t quite place, but with a heavy breath, she hums, “College, marriage, moving, divorce… those are some bold strokes.” Aster just nods. Ellie’s breath catches. “The boldest?”
Aster bites her bottom lip once, then twice, and then shakes her head. It does nothing to ease the tension, and when their gazes finally lock into each other, there’s something in Aster’s eyes. It reminds her of how she imagines she looks, and she just has time to think that she wishes she’d done it first before Aster’s mouth is on hers.
Aster’s lips are just as soft as they were two years ago, only this time she tastes like vanilla ice cream from the cones they’d eaten earlier that day, bittersweet relief, and being found.
She tastes like gospel music in a hot spring, a full moon looking down on the winding roads of Washington, and the subtle art of something new. She tastes like heartbreak, frustration, and regret. She tastes like searching, yearning, longing, and discovering. She tastes like a slow build in a busy city. She tastes like Aster. She tastes like home.
Ellie almost forgets she even said anything, but then Aster pulls away just enough to breathe against her lips, “Was that the boldest stroke?”
Ellie nods just a little bit, brushing their noses together. She’s barely able to resist the pull of Aster’s lips with, “Mhm. And?”
Aster presses a soft kiss into the corner of her mouth, murmuring, “No. This is.”