Monday morning. He raised the blinds in the living room. The traffic along West Fourth Avenue hadn’t started, it was too quiet, he wanted to feel a buzz out there. Dashes of sunshine clipped the adolescent cedars fronting the apartments across the street. He snapped a photo and texted it to Eva.

Him: My view seems full of possibilities. Good morning” 🌞😊

Her: Good morning! Nice. What’s up today?

Him: Wondering that myself… Was just about to ask you how your dinner was? Beautiful day ahead. Want to get out together?

He put his phone down on the window desk and walked away to get distance, bracing for rejection. He peeled a banana and put it in the blender, then rooted around the fridge for things to add. It was Monday, what was he thinking? She would be eager to write. Fine, she would let him know and he would show her how supportive he was.

His phone blinged.

Her: Dinner was nice, thx. I’m kinda itching to get out. Want to meet up this morning? Or I could meet around 1 after lunch.

He suddenly felt plugged in, energized like he could do anything. She suggested they cycle to Jericho Beach. She would come to his place at 1 PM, a four-hour wait which felt like years. Calm down. Just fucking calm down. His imagination produced lovely scenes of them holding each other, listening, laughing, waking up and cuddling, but these were dangerous thoughts. He wanted her so badly and he knew it would have him say stupid things, incongruent with reality. You just met. Yes, you’ve slept together three times, but it’s nothing, nothing at all. If you don’t get a grip, you’ll mess it up. It frustrated him how far away things felt or that they might never exist. Ach! Enjoy it more! Stop polluting these infinitesimally small moments of joy in this painfully brief life!

After scrubbing the bathroom and polishing the kitchen, he went into his office and tried to lose himself in work, but she was there, sitting in the front row of his mind, her curly blacks, her sideways smile, the saggy lines and bony shoulders that made his chest patter. He sighed. There was no peace from the delicious ache. At 1:15, she texted:

Here.

He exited with his mountain bike. Her curls poked out under her dark blue helmet, her smile was wide, and her face rosy, but cool and fresh when he kissed it.

“All good? How was the ride over?”

“Yeah, good!” For some reason, she giggled, which made him smile.

He followed her so she could set the pace, and then rode alongside her when there was room. He was confident on a bike to the point where he felt like his natural self, which was a young self. They reached the seawall and chatted about how, when kids, cycling in the burbs felt like freedom from parents, school, everything. You could peddle on your own or with friends far away and still be back for dinner or bedtime. At Jericho Beach, they stopped at a bench. Ragged seagulls picked at the low tide. Sad super tankers dotted the Burrard Inlet, waiting their turn at port. Beyond was the North Shore, privileged neighbourhoods where he’d grown up and towering mountains behind them, standing guard. The sun was hazed behind weak clouds and chilly gusts cut through them without care. A lone walker passed, a man bundled up like it was about to snow.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine, got my thick undies on.” She unpacked two apples and a bottle of water. “Want one?”

“Sure, thanks. Power bar?” He held up two, she took one and read the ingredients carefully.

“These are good,” she said, removing the wrapper. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, I do try.” He produced a mock smile and took a big bite of the apple. She rolled her eyes and smiled. They looked at the view for a moment, chewing. “Whereabouts in North Van did you live?” he asked.

“We had a house in Lynn Valley.”

“How’d you like it there?”

“The trails I liked a lot – Lynn Canyon was just a couple blocks from us. And the mountain trails, I miss that. The rest, meh – I like the neighbourhood I’m in now better.”

“We could do a mountain hike, I’m into that. Anytime.” He turned away and tactfully removed a piece of roughage from his teeth. “Do you ski?”

“No.”

“That was emphatic.”

“Ugh. My mother dragged us up there when we were little.”

“You hated it.”

“Yep. My sister, too. My Mom and her screamed at each other the whole time.” Eva grunted and shook her head.

He scrambled for something to say to pull her out of the memory, but all that came out was, “Parents!” followed by a short laugh and then felt mortified because Eva was silent, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her.

“I think we should walk,” she said, putting her water bottle away.

“Sure!”

She set a brisk pace, with their bikes on either side.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, no. No.” Awful moments of silence passed.

“What can I…do?”

“Nothing, there’s nothing to do.” She brightened her voice, straightened her spine and looked at him, “Were you working this morning?”

“Yes…it was all pretty straightforward Monday morning maintenance stuff. Um,…Mondays and Fridays are like that. Tuesday to Thursday, the bigger stuff, but nothing too strenuous unless I’m breaking in a new client, which is a lot of work for the first month or two. I’m actually looking to take on another client or two, but still, it’s always manageable, well, it depends on the client.”

“Okay,” she said.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Okay, not great, but okay. I got a few things done this morning. That felt good.”

“Oh, good! Can’t wait to read some of it.”

“Are you…just saying that?”

“No! I’d really like to. And if you want to workshop any of the dialogue – I always found that fun.”

“I would actually really like that – I think.” She gave a wry smile.

“Hey, you call the shots, if it’s not working for you, no offence taken at all. It might be fun, and I’d like to help.” She looped her arm around his and pressed her head against his shoulder. It was a new gesture. He instinctively kissed the top of her head.

“There’s something I’d like to talk about,” she said.

“Of course,” he said enthusiastically, hiding a lurking dread.

“Are we dating?”

He didn’t quite understand the question, much like how she needed clarification when he had put his hand on her leg at the movie. “Um, yes, but what do you mean when you say dating?”

“Are we dating only each other?”

Wow, she didn’t know how he felt about her? “I’m only dating you.” He let slip a laugh, hoping to reveal how absurd it was to think he was currently dating someone else as well. Had he seemed like that kind of guy, sleeping with multiple women? She chuckled, picking up on it.

“Yes, we’re dating,” he smiled almost mischievously at her and then shifted his expression to sincerity. “I’m not seeing anyone else. I really like what’s happening between us.”

“I do too. It’s good to hear that, that’s how I feel too.”

“It’s been great getting to know you. I have no interest in meeting anyone else. I like you.”

“I like you too.” She smiled at him, a little embarrassed and excited and then looked down at the asphalt path in front of her. He wanted to laugh again and ask her if she seriously didn’t already know how he felt. Was he that guarded? He was grateful she’d brought it up and felt he’d shed some unsettled feelings, strangely unconscious that he’d wanted to know the very same thing. On the one hand, it was wonderful to come out in the open, but on the other, a stark reminder of where things were, the very beginning. Nonetheless, he felt lifted up and stopped her for a long kiss. A gust of wind blew a chill up his spine. He paid it no mind.

* * *