I didn’t see Pippa again until the fall. I was resolved to the fact she was playing a long game and there didn’t seem to be any rules but hers. Reconciling with Libby and Bags was completely different.

I told Libby the truth. She wasn’t shocked I had slept with Pippa because she had suspected for a long time there had been someone else and when Pippa showed up at my residence it confirmed her suspicions. I decided to be completely honest with Libby. I told her the version of events I had prepared for my pub performance. I expanded to include the failed wedding details and Pippa reuniting with me on the anniversary of her brother’s death. I think sharing all of that with Libby gave her insight into not just my relationship with Pippa but into why I hadn’t tried to pursue anything deeper with her.

Libby and I remained friends but she didn’t drop around as much after that. We were civil with each other but nothing was really the same. With Bags, it was almost back to the same old same old. I had to explain to him what happened with Pippa as best as I could. I think he finally understood I was hopeless and helpless when it came to Pippa. I had a bruise from his last strike that I wore both as a mark of shame and a badge of honour. He wasn’t giving up on me but at least I was no longer a punching bag when it came to his frustration with me.

Before the end of the school year, Bags and I were able to secure rooms in a house downtown. It had been a typical house rented out by students and when senior students graduated, new students took their places on a sublease. We were all set for the fall when we parted for the summer. I went back to Belleville and nights at the Texaco and Bags returned to the suicide capital of Canada.

I reconnected with Ben when I was home for the summer. He was going to the local college in the fall to study horticulture and agriculture. He had continued his employment with a local landscaping outfit and he and I ran the old track on occasion. He was still with Sandra and when we talked we avoided talking about the women in our lives. I acknowledged I had seen Pippa and we were on friendly terms but I didn’t want to expand on it.

My remaining years at University varied little. In the fall I’d find a ‘Think Pink’ notice in the paper and I’d meet Pippa for coffee and catch up. In March there’d be another notice and we’d spend the day together and then go back to my place for another more intimate reunion. The third year was lather, rinse, repeat. Our relationship could be summed as ‘same time next year’.

Nothing much changed in Pippa’s life. She was still living with Beth and the children and still working toward her business degree. She had stayed in Peterborough throughout the summers and continued to work on her business plan for Carlotta’s. As far as I could tell, she wasn’t seeing anyone else other than the annual affair with me.

I put very little effort into trying to find any other relationship. The infrequency of my intimacy with Pippa left me a great deal of time to pursue other options but I just couldn’t find it in me to look elsewhere. Pippa wasn’t my girlfriend but she was the excuse I told myself, and occasionally Bags, when I explained my unfettered life. I could say I was focussing on my studies with the realization that there was someone waiting for me who was dictating place and time.

Bags and I kept our rooms in the student house until we eventually graduated after our third year. We were mature students with degrees ready to tackle the world. Bags and I had experienced a great friendship at school and some uncommon misadventures. One year, one of those exploits intersected with a March evening I spent with Pippa in my final year.

Previous years had been either unseasonably warm or bitingly cold. That year, we'd had a record snowfall the previous week and most of us were reasonably miserable about it. Up the street from our house was a rival residence of students. They were okay in their sorts as long as their sorts didn't cross an imposed neutral zone or they didn't draw too much attention to themselves or away from us. But they made the mistake of doing so and aroused the wrath of Bags.

It was that neutral zone thing and moving the spotlight that I refer to as their gross indignity. You take a quiet street and you do a thing like that and get armageddon. You take two peaceable groups and call one out and you get death. You take a truckload of snow and build a fifteen-foot-high snowman and you get Bags...mad.

It was a remarkable sight to see as we all glared at this thing casting a long shadow over our turf. I couldn't believe it myself and my housemates were just as stunned. This thing was big! Not the snowman but the act of it just being there...occupying space that we had forgot to detail as ours in the original treaty. When I studied ancient Greek history that year I was reminded of our unspoken agreement. There were once some feuding armies who had to have some boundaries set out by a figure named Callias. The ‘Peace of Callias’, as it was called, is still disputed by historians although ancient Greek writers detail strange adherences to these supposed boundaries by said armies. Now, if we'd have had someone like Callias on our side we might have been able to lay down a better deal. Imagine the other lot of students thinking anything above six feet, being generous as they were all puny as I recall, was actually theirs for the use. We had been even more charitable to allow them the height of their residence and an odd scraggly tree and this was the thanks we received in return. So we were right to be angered or miffed or whatever because this thing was trespassing on our limelight.

I recall, to tell the truth, we weren't all that put out by it as Bags. It was he who mouthed the first words about it being an invasion or the like and how we couldn't stand for such a thing. The fact was we could have stood for such a thing because the rest of us had essays to write or books to read or girls to entertain or something else indoors that would keep us away from the windows...away from temptation or pot-shots.

"It's gotta go!" Bags would exclaim. "We can't let it live" he'd bellow, "or we'll never live it down!" "Death's in the air!" The only things really hanging in the air were Bags’ hurled insults. Anyhow, it was to no avail because Bags had seen blood, all white, and he was out for it.

Now, as I recall most of Bags’ threats about anything were usually hurled from safe distances. This, however, was building to be something different as he came pretty close to our end of the neutral zone to bombard that giant with blasphemy. It was getting so that during any moment of the afternoon of that day of creation you could see Bags out the window threatening to make balls of the giant's flesh cascade down the street. Bags was obsessed with assassination while the rest of us were all obsessed with staying clear of shrapnel or controversy. The former would only sting our posteriors but the latter would get ours thrown out of school.

It happened however that sometime during the late afternoon of that fateful day silence fell upon our block. Bags had been up and down that half stretch of street with his verbal assaults a number of times but by five had obviously sought other diversions. It was the common belief he had sorted the smell of death from the smell of leftovers in our refrigerator and had decided a burger was more in order. Just as well, we humoured, as leftovers are bad enough without having to savour Bags’ promised baloney in the same mouthful.

I lost track of most of my cohorts as that was the day of my annual affair with Pippa. I didn’t have better words to describe the yearly assignation with her so I’ll let it go at that. I had met her earlier at The Old Grind and we had gone out for dinner before retiring to my room for some personal time.

It was about one o'clock the following morning and Pippa and I were asleep. Suddenly, and more to the point, there was a loud 'thud' on my door. I want to digress about that 'thud' for a moment. It's important. The sound as I recall was not exactly a knock but more like a last-ditch effort to lunge for a door before it sways out of your line of vision. And that told me something. Bags was awake, intoxicated, and ready to fulfill what I had thought were empty threats.

I knew it was pointless to argue with Bags or to try and dissuade him. My only hope however was to try and get him to embark on some long dissertation of past conquests or on the explanation regarding the suicide capital of Canada until he passed out, cooled off, or great multitudes were located in attempts to subdue him. This last option, I must point out, was of course sheer fantasy. There wasn’t might enough among my housemates to contain Bags in that state and with that in mind I gave up any pretense of regaining control.

I knew I had to face my destiny head-on, face the fates eye to eye, face the facts: this thing was bigger than both of us! A point of reference: this snow giant was probably five times bigger than both of us! So in an instant, Pippa and I found ourselves bundled up and off to battle.

I must highlight that any given night at one in the morning would naturally be somewhat cooler than the temperature of noon on the same day. The winter months, however, have the distinction of being somewhat colder when the primary source of light and heat are far removed. Street lamps are all well and good but I've yet to know of a case where basking in their glow resulted in a sudden desire to strip to one's undergarments.

So it was cold and Bags was feeling no pain. His inner glow was keeping him warm whereas I however had not consumed any pints of the lager of human kindness. I was prepared for the worse and if frostbite was the inevitable then I said 'so be it'. Actually, I was quoted more as saying, "Let's hurry this (insert expletive here) thing up, Bags!"

What occurred next boggles the mind and though a stretch for anyone's imagination is indeed fact. Bags had been approaching the enemy quite stealthily and had only refrained from a barrage of obscenity-laced threats because he was saving his prowess of might and mouth for combat. At the halfway mark, a distance of still half a block, he broke into full gallop and assault mode. At ten feet out he hurled the entire weight of his form into the midsection of the great beast and bounced off twice the entire length of its form. The Goliath had become ice!

Pippa and I realized that to the average uneducated person, pain would instantly be associated with an episode such as I have described. I stress the word uneducated but should explain that this term I would apply only to those who have not experienced firsthand the inebriated state in which Bags found himself. Bags during this adventure as you will recall was not uneducated and therefore pain did not register. Not to say there wasn't pain experienced by someone on the scene. I was suffering from a sore chest cavity that was the result of extensive laughter induced by the aforementioned spectacle. Bags did not take exception in his momentary defeat but rather was insulted by the humour I found in his degradation. This was no laughing matter!

"This is no laughing matter! You're dead!" he shrieked. This last exclamation I'm happy to say was not promised to either Pippa or myself. No, we had not wounded his pride...it was the gargantuan.

I'd like very much to detail the long and arduous contest of force fought by the pair of combatants but truth be told it was over in an instant. Bags had smelled defeat, compared it to the aforementioned leftovers, and decided that he must champion this cause to the death. The monster suffered quickly as Bags battered him from all sides. The head went first and the rest flew off in their respective directions. Bags was victorious!

I stood there surveying the carnage for the moment and reflected upon what I had witnessed. And it occurred to me standing there that this piece of history would go unnoticed eventually. That come spring no one would believe a word. That future passers-by would not realize a great battle had been waged here. That didn't matter. Pippa and I knew.

Pippa and I put Bags to bed in his room and returned to ours. We giggled and laughed for a while before making love one last time. I had Bags to thank for that because it might not have happened if he hadn’t roused us from slumber. I kept that little secret from Bags. I was sure that dealing with a tremendous hangover and some well-earned bruises would be about all he could handle in the morning.

The early morning conquest of Bags over the snowman was the last day I saw Pippa for a while. I had a glimpse of her at the graduation ceremonies when she received her diploma but it was almost two years before I saw her again. She remained in Peterborough and continued her living arrangement with Beth. Pippa had never provided me with a mailing address or a phone number while she was at University and when I left the city after graduating, I even lost the connection to The Old Grind.

I floated around for a few months trying to figure out what to do next. Having a degree in English studies qualified me to both write and speak it but little else. I had tried unsuccessfully at an Education degree by applying to Teacher’s College but was turned down earlier in the year. Rod offered me some work at the Texaco until the summer and then I let some student take over my night shift. I even travelled to visit Bags up around Toronto. He showed me all the sights he thought were fitting which included a trip to the bulk store where his sister Ruby worked. Bags tried to nudge me a little in her direction but I wasn’t interested. That’s not exactly true because there was a fleeting moment where I wondered if Ruby would turn out to be anything like Bags. I think that was the tipping point that made me want to steer clear.

In the fall, Bags called me up and invited me to apply and work with him. Bags had secured employment with Merrivale in Toronto. The agency, named after its founder Dr. Carl Merrivale and founded in the late 60s, operated group homes within the city and they were looking for staff to work with what they described as ‘emotionally disturbed adolescents’. The minimum requirement was a degree either as a Child Care Worker or being in possession of a Bachelor of Arts. The latter category described my qualifications and I thought it would be good experience on a résumé if I chose to apply to Teacher’s College again.

I was successful in my application to Merrivale and was placed in the same home as Bags. That’s how I ended up in Toronto sleeping on Bags’ couch for five months until I found a place of my own. I spent two years in their residential program and then three years doing classroom support in their school program. Bags left after three years and went to the University of Toronto to begin his arduous journey of becoming a psychologist.

Even though I fell out of communication with Pippa, I was surprised to receive an invitation to the opening of Carlotta’s. The invitation had been sent to my parents’ home and my mother had forwarded it on to my Toronto address. It was the only way Pippa had of reaching me. She had explained in an accompanying letter she had continued to live with Beth and the children and worked different jobs until she received some government support and a small business loan to be able to open her store. It had been two years since our graduation and finally, her other dream came true.

It was the summer of 1985 and I took some holidays to head up to Peterborough and to Pippa’s grand opening. Her new shop was in the downtown core and not far from our previous haunt of The Old Grind. It was nice that some things hadn’t changed at least. There were streamers and balloons festooning the building and the window sported a hand-painted mural of a little girl at play in a beautiful outlet. I couldn’t help but think the girl looked like a younger version of Pippa. Was this how she had been as a child or was this her representation of the younger fictitious Carlotta?

The store was very busy for her opening day. I saw many people lining the streets and waiting for an opportunity to enter the establishment. I got in line behind some women with young children in strollers. The line moved very slowly until I was even with the mural and I was able to peer through the window at the interior. It took me a few minutes to spot Pippa as she was kneeling near a group of children and would occasionally pick one up while at the same time engaging with shoppers. She was beautiful. She looked like this truly was her element. I was happy for her.

I continued to watch the scene unfold on the inside of the store until I saw a gentleman walk up to Pippa and give her a long embrace. It took me a moment to place him because he was older and sported a moustache. A once-buried feeling of discomfort and competition swelled up in me as I recognized Bastien. I felt like pounding on the window to catch his attention and then screaming at him to get away from her. I did neither. Instead, I watched for a few minutes and then walked away.

The excitement of seeing Pippa had been one thing but having to face an old rival had been too much for me. He was Quebec City and part of a story that had been kept from me. I believed Pippa when she said there had been nothing between them but it had been two years and I wasn’t prepared to share her with anyone.

What had I been thinking? For two years I had pursued a professional career and my personal life had stalled since last I held Pippa in my arms. I had never lost sight of a future when we would someday reconnect and I always thought I’d find a way to make it stick. Bags had given up on me when it came to Pippa and I knew somehow I had also given up on myself. I waited for Pippa and maintained optimism that we’d be together again. Seeing Bastien there had shocked me into the realization I’d put my life on hold waiting for her to make the next move. What was it she had told me once during one of our annual dalliances? Bastien was her fallback because she didn’t want to be alone. What did that make me? At that moment I felt like that made me an also ran. I wasn’t prepared for another competition only to lose. Better to walk away, I thought, than to stay and have her put me through the paces and maybe not even be considered for the prize.

I limped back to Toronto dejected and wrote her a short letter apologizing for not having made the opening due to a work emergency. I addressed it to her care of her store. I wasn’t sure if she’d really care. If Bastien was back again I’d stay where I was and let her come to me. I included contact information with my phone number. She never called.

Work was a release at the time. I enjoyed my job and found I could relate to some of the issues my teen clients were experiencing. Many of them had issues trying to connect with their families and friends. I understood some of that. It had been difficult for me to form lasting relationships with anyone other than Bags and my confusion regarding my status with Pippa was an experience that allowed me to relate on some level to my clients.

A year after walking away again from my last connection to Pippa, I transferred to the school program at Merrivale. I was hired as support in a closed classroom to a teacher named Bruce. Bruce and I hit it off. He was older than I was but he was a great influence. I was really there to help support any of the students who were struggling but sometimes Bruce would let me teach. It was a roundabout way to get teaching experience but for three years Bruce would give me more and more to do as he sat back and helped me cultivate my skills.

In my second year in the school program, I received another invitation and this was one I couldn’t ignore. Bags was getting married. I hadn’t seen much of Bags but occasionally we’d go out and socialize. He had already told me about Connie who had replaced me at the group home after I had left. She was still working there when Bags proposed. I hadn’t met her but Bags’ description was familiar. All he said was he understood what I saw in treacle. That was clear enough. It made me think of Libby whom I had lost all contact with after graduating. I thought of looking her up but I didn’t know where to begin. I decided it wasn’t worth the effort or she wasn’t.

My invitation to Bags’ wedding said I could bring a guest but I needed to let him know when I sent in my RSVP. There were a few women I knew from Merrivale I was on friendly terms with but wanting to spend an evening with one of them was something to which I couldn’t commit. I’d been on a few dates but being my partner at a wedding would be a big step. I knew it was Bags’ wedding but I felt like I might be on display if I showed up alone. Mutual friends from Merrivale were already invited to the wedding and I didn’t feel like being anyone’s third wheel.

I decided to write to Pippa and invite her to the wedding. It was a bold move. By then, it had been four years since we’d last seen each other and save for the occasional Birthday or Christmas card our communication had dwindled to next to nothing. Still, I wondered, would she come? She knew Bags and she knew me. Maybe one of those would be the convincing factor for her attendance.

I was surprised when I received her response agreeing to be my date for the wedding. I wrote back offering to arrange a hotel for her but she replied by asking if it was acceptable if she stayed with me. Was it acceptable? Of course, it was acceptable and even desirable, but was I getting ahead of myself? It felt like a lifetime since I’d seen her last. How had her life turned out? Was she still single? How was Carlotta’s going? Was she still single? Where was Bastien? Was she still single?

She arrived early on the day of Bags’ wedding. She had a car. I laughed when I thought back on ‘Operation Drive-In’ and we’d struggled to find someone who drove and had access to a vehicle. We’d come a long way. Well, she had come a long way. She was a professional woman now with a business and a car. Was she still single? I couldn’t let go of that question.

She was as beautiful as ever. She’d grown her hair long again. Her face had matured and she was dressed in an amazing flower print dress. I wasn’t big on fashion but there were three times I remembered distinctly what Pippa wore. The first was in old man Thompson’s advanced English class when I first laid eyes on her. I remember I loved her the first time I saw her. She wore a formfitting white turtleneck sweater. The second was on the day of our own wedding when she’d worn the daffodil yellow dress. I couldn’t have loved her more even if she did leave me with a broken heart. And finally the flower print dress for Bags’ wedding. Was she still single?

“Pink, it’s so good to see you again.” There was that infectious smile and that sing-song voice. It still had a resonance that made me weak.

“You look nice. I like your dress.” Was that the best I could do after four years? When she’d been gone from me for eighteen months and I rediscovered her in Peterborough my first year at Trent, I’d at least quoted Elvis to her. The truth was my heart was in my throat. It happened to me every time after I hadn’t seen her for a long period of time. It had been the same way when I looked in the window of Carlotta’s and saw her with the children. I shouldn’t have walked away then. I know I had given her a phony excuse about a work emergency but I wonder if she’d believed that. If only Bastien hadn’t been there. Was she still single?

“I guess you’re single,” she said. “I wondered about that until I received this invitation. It’s been a while Pink.”

“It’s Jeff. Everyone knows me as Jeff here.”

“Okay, Jeff. You like the dress? Thanks, I designed it myself. I had some help. There’s a woman who designs some of the clothes for my store but I drew up some sketches for this dress and picked out the material. She did the sewing and hemming. I’m all thumbs when it comes to that.”

“The shop is going well, then?” I asked.

“Everything and everyone around me is a going concern. But that’s a good thing. “

“We have time for a coffee before the wedding if you feel like catching up.”

“What do you have in mind?” I wasn’t sure what to think of her question. What did she mean by that?

“Just coffee, I swear,” I replied. It was a clumsy answer and I was betraying myself.

“I just meant coffee at your place or a coffee shop? Either’s fine.”

“Oh, that’s what I thought you meant.” I felt like saying ‘good save Jeff’ to myself but I didn’t want her to know how nervous I was. I was positive, however, she already had her suspicions.

“Sounds good. I guess I need to see where I’m staying.” She was very calm. That made one of us.

“I made my bed this morning.”

Pippa just stared at me and then recalled a long-off memory. “Oh, yeah, I remember. Seems to me you made up for that.” She gave me a smile that felt like either an inside joke or a warning. My tension level went up two notches. Just being around her again was bringing up a recollection of all the warm feelings. That reminded me of Bags and his well-aimed punches. He knew I was bringing Pippa. I hoped he’d behave himself for his bride’s sake…and mine.

“Are you happy Jeff?” she continued. “I’ve heard so little from you. Your letters have been sparse on details. I wish you could have been at the opening. I would have liked to have introduced you to someone.”

“I saw him.” It was out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

“Saw who? What are you saying?” The smile faded from her face.

“The truth?” I took a deep breath. “I was there that day. I was waiting outside to get in and I saw you with Bastien.”

“What? Wait, why didn’t you come in?”

“I don’t know Pippa. I was uneasy at seeing you together. I didn’t want to go through that again. I didn’t like who I’d become when I was around Bastien.”

“It didn’t seem to stop you at Roger’s funeral!” she snapped. “I saw you two sitting together.”

“We weren’t together!” I snapped back. “I was there for you. He just happened to come and sit next to me.”

“So where were you when I needed you these past few years? “

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Oh, I didn’t know you needed me, Pippa. You know your correspondence with me has also been a little light.”

We were both standing opposite each other with our arms crossed. There were daggers being shot from both of our eyes. How quickly we had gone from pleasantries to combat. I hadn’t even started on making the coffee

“Pippa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out. It was selfish of me not to be there for your opening. I shouldn’t have made it about me.”

“I’m sorry too, Pink, I mean Jeff, this is partly my fault. I received your invitation to your friend’s wedding and it stirred something in me. I’ve been so busy with the store and my Carlotta that I haven’t even given myself a chance at a personal life. I kept thinking you’d be there when I eventually got around to you. That’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t know why we keep doing this to each other Pippa. I kept waiting for you to call for me and I put my life on hold as well. When the chance came to have you as my date to this wedding, I hopped all over it. I told myself this was my excuse to reach out to you. That’s wrong too. I shouldn’t have to have an excuse.”

“You once told me not to say complicated, Jeff, but damn it, you and are complicated.”

“You can thank Dr. Bags for that one. That was some of his free advice.”

“It’s been a long time Jeff. It’s been almost ten years since you walked into my life and let me call you Pink. It’s been eight years since I lost Roger and it’s been four years since you held me last and made me forget about everything. If that isn’t a complicated history then I don’t know what is.”

“Not to mention Elvis on the infield and everywhere else. Bags is an Elvis fan. I wonder if they’ll play any of his music at the reception.”

“Save a dance for me Pink?”

“All of them,” I replied. I even let the ‘Pink” pass.

“How about that coffee?” she asked as a diversion.

“Coming right up.”

We drank our coffee and shared about our lives. Most of hers had been about the store. She’d moved into a place of her own and was busy with all the Carlottas in her life; as she put it.

I talked about my career with Merrivale and Bags and the wedding. I updated her about my brother and his wife. Rod had bought into a Texaco franchise and was running another station in town. Rhonda had graduated from college and was running a home daycare out of a house that my parents had helped them purchase. They were also expecting their own child in about five months.

The wedding ceremony was nice. Bags had a big family and his three brothers were his groomsmen and his two sisters, including Ruby, were in the bride’s party. Bags had lost some weight since university and looked nice in his tuxedo with purple cummerbund. The bridesmaids wore matching purple dresses. For my money, Pippa’s dress was the best. It seemed to catch everyone’s eye.

Bags had talked to me about the best man honours and hoped I wouldn’t be offended he hadn’t asked me to fill that spot. He had a childhood friend he didn’t want to offend. As it turned out, it was better for me because I got to sit with Pippa in the church and at the reception.

At one point during the wedding ceremony, I felt Pippa’s hand reaching for mine. I obliged.

“It’s nice when a wedding comes off so well,” she whispered to me.

“Is that regret or a hint?” I whispered back. Pippa just silently chuckled and gave my hand a squeeze.

The dinner followed later with spirits and speeches. After I had thought all of the speeches were told, the best man urged anyone in attendance to tell humorous stories about the bride or the groom. Bags’ sister Ruby shouted over to me to tell the frozen snowman story. It apparently had made the rounds of the family. I was going to deny her requests but the sheer terror in Bags’ face and the shaking of his head to discourage me, only fueled my desire to launch into the epic tale. After everyone laughed and cheered Bags came up and gave me a giant hug.

“I’ll get you for this, Jeffy-boy,” he whispered.

“I’m sure you will,” I whispered back.

“I see the running girl’s back in your life. Should I punch you now or later? You know you’re going to get hurt.”

“I know Bags,” I replied.

Bags pretended to hit me in the stomach and everyone thought it was a jovial reaction to my retelling of his epic winter battle. I knew better.

Pippa and I spent a pleasant evening drinking and joking. We both avoided sensitive topics or histories. Even Bags invited Pippa to dance at one point. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and I noticed they were talking among themselves. I wondered what Pippa could find to say to Bags. Was he warning her off of me? A few minutes later I learned the answer when the DJ played a very familiar song.

Maybe I didn't treat you

Quite as good as I should have

Maybe I didn't love you

Quite as often as I could have

Little things I should have said and done

I just never took the time

You were always on my mind

You were always on my mind

Of course, we danced to it. I held her tight and almost ten years swept us back to the avocado house and the first time she had sang those lyrics to me. As we moved to the music, she leaned in and sang along with the recording. I was seventeen again and hearing this girl I loved reveal her secrets to me. What had happened to us?

We danced every slow dance after that and it was late in the evening before we returned to my apartment. I had hugged Bags one more time on the way out and he left me with familiar parting words.

“I told you once if someone hurts you and you keep lining up expecting something different each time but the hurt keeps coming, then you’re either into pain or you’re just plain stupid. Let her go or marry her Jeff.”

Pippa had been too busy saying goodbye to the bride to have heard Bags. I wished I hadn’t heard it. I’d been floating in a reverie all evening just being with Pippa again but Bags’ sage wisdom brought me back into the moment. His other words were ringing home to me as well: ‘you know you’re going to get hurt’.

Back at my apartment, I was wide awake but I began to yawn and pretend I was very tired.

“You can take the bed and I’ll sack out on the couch,” I said. “I’m all in.”

“Is everything alright Jeff? I thought we’ve had a lovely evening. I’m not that repulsive am I?

I saw the trap and she was the same old bait. I had been skirting around it all night and I was ready to leap headlong but Bags’ parting words were holding me back. I was going to get hurt.

“Pippa,” I began, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve never met or been with anyone quite like you but we’re not kids anymore. We can’t keep doing this.”

“You think I don’t know that Jeff? You invited me and I came. Which one of us was the more desperate?”

“I didn’t know it was a contest,” I replied. “I can’t get you out of my system. Every time I think I’m over you, something comes along and I either get sucked back in or I walk willingly into your path. What’s wrong with me?”

“I can’t answer that Jeff. I have the same question for myself. I’ve left you a number of times but the opportunity to be with you again on these rare occasions is so compelling.”

We both flopped down on my sofa as if dejected. We were two minds with a single thought. We both wanted to be with each other but knew it probably wasn’t good for us.

“What do we do now?” Pippa asked.

“We sleep on it. Me, here on the couch, and you in the bed.”

“Will you lay with me Jeff, just until I fall asleep?”

I’d been there before. She had asked me the same thing that night at my parents’ home and it had led to our first act of lovemaking. Was she baiting the trap again?

“I shouldn’t,” I replied.

“There’s no hidden motive here Jeff. I don’t think we should go to bed angry. If we just lay together with no intentions then maybe we can still be friends.”

“With no intentions?” I asked.

“Not for my part,” she responded and then made the gesture of crossing her heart.

“What if I fall asleep first? I’m pretty tired.”

“Then I’ll take the couch, Jeff.”

I waited until she changed out of her dress while I went to the bathroom and donned pyjamas. Everything that night seemed to be repeat performances out of our collective past. She had sung that Elvis song to me and now we were going to innocently lie together on my bed. At least, I thought, I was wiser and knew what to do in that type of situation.

Pippa was in bed when I joined her. This time we lay facing each other.

“I’ve always remembered the first time I looked into your eyes,” she said. I thought you had this soulful look in your eyes like you were lost. Funny, it’s still there.”

In that moment I was reminded of the first time I heard her mention her own eyes. My recollection went back to the first and only appearance of The Carlotta’s. I could still recall the lyrics.

There are dark skies

Behind my eyes

You can’t love a ghost.

What I’ve been

And the things I’ve seen

Are what define me the most.

“There are dark skies behind your eyes,” I told her. She stared at me for a minute before she got the reference.

“You remember that?”

“There’s not much about you that I don’t remember. You’re hard to forget.”

“Have you tried?” she asked.

“No.”

“Me neither,” Pippa admitted. “What’s that have to say about us?”

“Good friends or good liars. We keep telling ourselves we’re happy but I know for me, there’s always something missing.”

“I’d like to say my life is complete but I’d be lying too. It’s full and I guess that’s enough for now.”

“I understand that. Bags said something to me tonight that’s made me think.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Marry you or let you go.” Her face hardened but she wasn’t angry. She was clearly pondering on my two choices and was wondering what I was thinking.

“Have you chosen one or the other?” She was being earnest. She really wanted to know my choice.

I reached over and stroked some hair back out of her face. Pippa had said my eyes betrayed a lost feeling in me. She was right. I was lost when it came to her. I could tell myself I was fine when she wasn’t around but the moment she lighted in my vicinity, I lost all reason. For more than a decade I’d been caught up in her orbit and sometimes I’d coil in closer but then the closeness would send me spiralling out of control.

“If I asked you to marry me, what would be your answer?” I asked.

“Are you asking me to marry you or are you asking for my response to you asking me to marry you?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Maybe not but you haven’t asked me yet.”

“Will you marry me, Pippa?”

“Well,” she said, “now you’ve asked me and that makes us even.”

I looked at her with both hurt and confusion. She hadn’t answered my question and then she had replied with something more cryptic.

“I asked you once and now you’ve asked me,” she clarified. “Now we’re even.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Pippa.”

“No, Jeff, I won’t marry you. If I couldn’t marry you all those years ago then how could I marry you now?”

“I don’t get it. I thought you wanted me to marry you? You were practically hinting about it.”

“Jeff,” she began, “I didn’t marry you when we were kids because I thought I was forcing you into something. You and I had to both go out in the world and find our ways. You’ve found yours. I’ve found mine. Are either of us going to give up the lives we built just to see if this is going to work? Are you ready to give up everything you have here in Toronto to move to Peterborough with me?"

“I can’t, Pippa, I have responsibilities. How about you move to Toronto to be with me?”

“Same answer Jeff. It wouldn’t work. I’ve done a lot to build up my business. It’s more than that. I have a life in Peterborough.”

“Placeholders,” I said quietly.

“What’s the Jeff? I don’t understand.”

“We’re taking up space in each other’s lives until the real thing comes along. Maybe I could be your fallback if nothing else develops. Maybe I’ll be like Bastien.” I didn’t mean it to be harsh but she had been the one who had described him once as her fallback.

“Not likely, Bastien’s married.”

“Really?” I asked with too much glee.

“He took a job in Montreal a few years back. He met someone and they got married last year.”

“Always a bridesmaid but never a bride. I mean that for both of us. How about the placeholder idea? I’ll be yours if you be mine.”

“How will it work?” she asked.

“Let’s go back to what we know. Every year we’ll meet on the same date and see where we are at with things. If we’re both like we are now, we spend time together and make plans for the following year.”

“What if you find someone, Jeff?”

“I haven’t yet.”

“Promise me you’ll look, though, Jeff. Say you’ll try.”

“I’ve never stopped trying. I’m a very trying individual.”

“That’s the problem with both of us. Maybe that’s why we keep coming back to each other.”

“Same time next year?” I asked.

“Let’s choose our own date.”

“What do you suggest?”

“The twenty-second of June.”

The date wasn’t lost on me. It had been the ill-fated day of our own cancelled wedding. It seemed appropriate enough. Maybe we could make better memories to associate with the day.

“I like it,” I replied.

“See you then.”

She lay quietly for a while and her eyes began to drift closed. I believed she was asleep but I had to know for sure.

“Pippa, are you awake?” I whispered.

She didn’t respond.

“Pippa Bailey, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. Don’t expect that to change.”

She smiled in her sleep and I wasn’t sure if she’d been awake or the message had filtered through to her sleeping subconscious. I decided to wait a little while longer for a response. I kept on waiting and eventually fell asleep. I never made it to the couch.

She left early the next morning and we hugged long again in the street. We had not made love the night before but all of our conversation lying together had been enough for me. It would have to last until next time. Those had been her words once, ‘until next time’.

For the following four years, I saw her like clockwork on the date we had selected. She always came to me. I had wanted to go back to Peterborough but she always insisted she keep her business life and personal life separate and Toronto was always the break she needed. Twice she stayed for just one night and twice she stayed for a couple of days.

I did what was asked of me. I dated other women. I had some affairs. I tried to live an uncomplicated life but I’d purchase a new calendar early each year and would circle the day in June when I would see her again. It was a good life. The knowledge that she would come back to me annually kept me from having to make any serious commitments. I didn’t have to try very hard and if it ended with another woman, I chose not to have regrets.

For her part, Pippa said she dated other men but I couldn’t be sure. She didn’t offer details and I didn’t ask. When we were together we just lived in the days. We’d go out and enjoy ourselves at shows or concerts and we’d retire to my place and we always made love. There was no one like her and I knew she felt safe with me. Same time next year became the descriptor for our relationship.

I worked one more year in the Merrivale school program after Bags’ wedding. Bruce had encouraged me to reapply for Teacher’s College and with the experience he gave me and well-written recommendation, I was successful. Merrivale allowed me to work part-time in one of their other programs while I continued my education courses. On graduation, Merrivale extended me an offer for a full-time teaching position to replace Bruce. He had groomed me well and having approached retirement he had ensured his successor met his approval.

Every year Pippa would visit me on the twenty-second of June and every year I was surprised by how much more I had to share with her about my professional life. She’d always ask me if I was happy and I answered honestly. I was. I had a great and rewarding career and every year like clockwork I saw the only girl I had ever loved. I could see who I wanted whenever I wanted and there was no pressure for involvement. Pippa was my placeholder. I was hers.

In the fifth year, 1992, she came to me again for the last time. I should have seen it coming. We were becoming different people or maybe I was. The previous four years she always seemed the same. She was Pippa and she had her store. The business was always doing well and nothing much else seemed to change. She didn’t share about her personal life and I just assumed she was living her life as freely as I. She always came and she never complained. I began to expect things would stay the same until we tired of each other or we agreed to marry. That notion had long been on my mind but there never seemed to be the right conditions for it. Bags had told me at his own wedding to marry Pippa or let her go but I never steered myself toward either possibility.

We were both in our early thirties. We spent no holidays or birthdays together and we told each other that our annual liaison was celebration for all the times we missed together in a year. She came to Toronto as usual and she was more beautiful than previous years. This wasn’t surprising because I thought the same thing every June when she came to me. There are some people who age well with grace and beauty and that could be said of Pippa but it was more than that. The best way to describe it was she’d finally become comfortable in her own skin. There had been this merger of Pippa and her Carlotta into someone who was happy with herself. It wasn’t that she continued to be determined about what she wanted but more that she was solidified in what she had.

“Another year and I never tire of seeing you. You’re beautiful Pippa.”

“You say that every year Jeff.”

“And every year it’s true. What’s your secret? It’s like your beauty radiates from the inside. I’m so glad you’re here.”

She had driven again and she had a new car. Business must have been going well. I had upgraded my apartment and I was excited to show it off. We hugged in the street and then we went indoors.

“This is nice, Jeff,” she said after the tour. “It certainly is a step up from your last place.”

“I know where the coffee maker is now. That last place was too small.”

“And you’re happy?” she asked.

“Always. Look at me. This is me being happy.” I was aware that I was grinning.

She smiled and leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

“This is me being happy for you,” she replied.

“Thanks. I’ve worked hard at it. But enough about me. What about you? Are you happy?”

“I’ll take that coffee, Jeff, if you’re offering.”

“Sure, sure,” I replied. I began to bustle around in the kitchen. It hadn’t slipped passed me that she hadn’t answered my question.

When it was ready I served us both in the living room.

“Wow, you have a coffee table now,” Pippa said with some admiration. “I remember having to balance cups on my lap or on a cardboard box you never seemed to get around to emptying.”

“Everything in its place and a place for everything like they say.” I was trying to be witty but also looking for an opening to ask her about her life.

“What about me?” she asked. “Do you have a place for me?”

“There’s always the bed. I’ve upsized. I have a queen-size mattress now.” I was always nervous at the beginning of those yearly visits.

“That’s not what I meant Jeff. I’m asking how do I fit into your new life.”

“I’ve always got room for you in my life Pippa. Are you no longer happy with our little arrangement?”

“I’ve never said I wasn’t happy about it,” she replied.

“You also didn’t say whether you were happy when I asked you about your life a few minutes ago.”

She sat for a few minutes and pondered the depths of her coffee. I’d thought that the Pippa-Carlotta hybrid was a stable thing but I could see the Carlotta side holding her back from being truthful with me.

“Pippa, what’s wrong? Have I said something to hurt you? I’ll say I’m sorry but you’ve got to give me a hint what I’ve done wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Jeff. This time it’s me. You asked if I was happy with this arrangement and I told you I never said I wasn’t happy. I’m not happy about it Jeff. Now, I’ve told you. We’re not kids anymore Jeff. What kind of life is this? Every year we commit to seeing each other and every year I expect it will be the last. I always think you’ll find someone else or maybe I will. Marry me or let me go. That’s what you said once, right? Where are we with that?”

“I didn’t say it, Bags did. Anyway, why do those have to be the only options?”

“Listen, Jeff, I came here to tell you something. I wasn’t sure if it was the right time but I see you now and I know it’s not just the right time but it’s the end of our time.”

“What are you saying, Pippa?” Was she finally breaking up with me? Could she even break up with me? It wasn’t like our relationship was a permanent fixture in our lives. Same time next year didn’t imply a commitment to each other.

“Look at you Jeff, you’re a professional man. You have a career and a new apartment and a queen size bed. You only need someone in your life to make it all complete. I kept thinking, no hoping, that each year you’d cancel on me because there was someone else. You need to find that someone.”

“What do I need anyone else for when I have you?” I was beginning to panic. What was she leading to?

“You know when you didn’t come to the opening of Carlotta’s I truly had thought you’d found something better. I thought your letter about a work emergency was your way of letting me down easy. I wasn’t disappointed, I was hopeful. Then a couple more years passed and I didn’t hear from you and I thought well he’s finally moved on from me. I accepted that because I kept telling myself that’s what I wanted for you. Then came Bags’ wedding and it started all over again.”

“I never wanted anyone but you. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”

“I wasn’t asleep that night Jeff when you whispered it in my ear after Bags’ wedding. I heard you. That’s what makes this so difficult. I had to keep coming to see if you were moving forward. You went back to school and now you’re a teacher. That’s amazing. You even have a job you love. The thing is Jeff, I kept waiting to hear from you that you’re in a relationship.”

“What about our relationship Pippa? Isn’t that something?”

“It’s not enough. It’s not enough for me and it shouldn’t be enough for you. I want a family and a life with someone that’s every day. Maybe you don’t want those things. That’s okay if you don’t but I’m holding myself back and I can’t help but thinking I’m holding you back too.”

“What if we get married?” I asked. “That’s one of the options. It’s got to be better than the alternative.”

“Would you give this all up Jeff? The job? The apartment? The queen-size bed? Knowing where the coffee maker is?”

“Yes, I would. I’ll start over. I want to be with you.”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to say you’d give it all up for me? I longed for it and dreaded it at the same time. How long would it be before you’d begin to regret that move and then begin to resent me? What if there were children? Our children? Would that be enough for you?”

“I’d be with you. That’s all I’d need. If children came along I’d love them as much as I love you”

“A boy? A girl? What if one was Carlotta? You don’t understand Jeff. I want a family too but I don’t know even know what that means. Look at my own family. My parents are divorced and my brother’s dead. I blame myself for all of that. What if I can’t handle the fantasy family you want? What if I began to resent you?”

The conversation was spinning quickly into dangerous areas. Why couldn’t what I wanted reconcile with what she wanted? I would quit my job and I’d follow her to Peterborough. That was my choice. That was my choice. It didn’t help to repeat it to myself. It also had to be her choice and clearly, it wasn’t.

“So it’s the other option? I can’t do that Pippa. I can’t let you go.”

“You’ve done it before Jeff. I’ve forced your hand in the past.”

“Yes, but we keep coming back to each other Pippa.”

“Not this time Jeff. Bastien has asked me to marry him.”

“Wait, what? I thought he already was married?” Not Bastien again. How many times did I have to lose to that guy?

“It didn’t work out. I don’t know everything but he and his wife had a son together and he’s trying for custody. He needs me and I think that’s the family I need.”

“But Bastien? Pippa, it’s Bastien!”

“You don’t understand Jeff. He’s always been there for me. We have as much history as you and I. If not Bastien, then who?”

“Me!” I exclaimed. “Why can’t it be me?”

“It’s always been you, Jeff. That’s the problem. I tried once to force you to marry me and it looks like I could do it again. I can’t keep doing that to you, Jeff. You don’t need me anymore. I see it now. Your life is here. You have children of your own. You’re a teacher and you’re moulding young impressionable minds every year. Those are your children. Every time I pushed you away or left you, it prodded you toward your future. Here it is Jeff, you’re brilliant future. Don’t give up everything you’ve worked so hard for. You did this Jeff. You made your life.”

“No, you did this Pippa. You’re right. I took the energy of losing you and not being able to hold onto you and put it into moving forward. You did that Pippa.”

“I know I did Jeff and if being with you and without you brought you to this then I’ll take that as a compliment. Don’t make me regret it.”

She was right. I was right. I’d never have accomplished so much if it hadn’t been for all the drama and trauma in our relationship. At last, it was the shining future I’d long hoped for and there were no sharp edges…just one, letting her go.

“So how’s it going to work with Bastien living in Montreal and trying to gain custody of his son and you managing a business in Peterborough?” I knew the answer before I asked the question but I needed it confirmed.

“I’m giving up the shop and moving to Montreal to be with him. I’ve found someone to buy me out and I’m going to start anew when I get settled with Bastien.”

How her explanation stung. How many times had I asked her to change her life for me and move to Toronto? I understood it though. She was making the choice herself. She wanted a family and she was going to have an instant one with Bastien. If I’d had that choice with Pippa then I’d have made the same decision. Marry her or let her go. The third option, which went hand in hand with letting her go, was being happy for her. I could do that.

“When are you going?”

“Soon. I haven’t given Bastien my answer yet but I’ve put all my plans in motion. I had just one more thing to do”

“What was that?”

“Getting up enough nerve to come up here and tell you goodbye.”

“Is it goodbye, Pippa? Can’t we just say until next time?”

“There isn’t going to be a next time, Jeff. This is all we have.”

She leaned in and kissed me.

“I knew it,” she said.

“Knew what?” I asked.

“Knew that I’d still feel something,” she replied.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, Jeff, it isn’t. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” I replied.

“Can I see that queen-size bed?”

I obliged. We made love one last time. Neither of us felt guilty. Her future was fixed and so was mine. It was just two friends saying goodbye. Two good friends who loved each other very much. Two really good friends.