Again, But Better

Quirky hidden coffee
place, complete with secret elevator?
I raise my eyebrows, catching Pilot’s eye as we head for the exit. This place on the flyer is at
least a ten-minute walk.
“You up for this? We could just hit a Starbucks if you want,” I tell him.
He pushes the door open and gestures for me to go first. “Hey, I’m always game for an
adventure.”
A smile pulls at my lips as I lead us out. “Okay. Let’s go for it.”
Pilot folds the flyer and sticks it in his back pocket as we fall into step on the sidewalk.
“So,” he starts, “how did you hunt me down?” A sideways grin kicks up his cheek.
I shrug. “You know, had to call in favors, get a background check.”
His eyes grow.
Another laugh bursts out of me. “Pilot. I looked at your Facebook. It says where you work. I
Google-mapped it.”
“Ohhh! Dang.” He grins. “I’m impressed! You had me there for a second.”
We cross to the next block.
“So you wanted to talk about…?”
I blow out a breath. “Let’s save it for this quirky-ass café.”
He chuckles. “So, you’re gonna be a—what is it, a gastroenterologist?”
“Yup, working on it.”
“Why gastroenterologist, may I ask?” he asks curiously.
I purse my lips for a moment. “Well, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, so I just kinda
picked gastroenterology.”

---

“Just picked it?” He chuckles. “Isn’t it, like, a really giant life commitment?”
“Yeah, I’ve got six years of residency coming my way…” I trail off like a wind-up toy running
out of steam. I decided I was working toward gastro somewhere between my first year of med
school and now. Melvin was so passionate about it.
“Wow, that’s a lot of years.”
I shrug and pull a small smile. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’m graduating top of my class, though. It’s
going well.”
He nods and drops his gaze. “How are things um, with your family? Better? I still think from
time to time about that night they showed up.”
I pause. “Things are still kinda shitty, but in a more boring way. We don’t really talk. I’m out in
San Diego—I kind of needed to get away—but I’m doing well in school, and they’re happy with my
progress.”
He’s quiet for a beat. The blare of New York swells in the silence.
“Wow,” he finally breathes.
“Wow what?” I ask as we make our way across another block. I grip my purse, one hand on the
chain and one on the actual bag.
“I can’t believe you’re an almost doctor.” He raises his shoulders in a shrug-smile. God, it’s
really cute. “You still writing all the time?”
I shake my head. “Nah, not really. Things are so busy, and I haven’t really had the time to write
for fun … Do you keep in touch with anyone from London?” I ask, changing the subject.
“No, I’m completely out of the loop.” He speaks slowly. “Do you?”
“Well, yeah. Sahra graduated from Harvard a year back and she’s, like, a real lawyer. I track her
success via Facebook. Atticus and I grab lunch in LA every few months—he’s producing a play
there right now—and Babe and I still talk all the time! She just got engaged, actually.”
Pilot’s quiet as we cross to another block.
After a minute, I meet his eyes again. “Have you been back since we left?”
He shakes his head. “Um, no, haven’t been back, but I want to someday. Have you?”
“No—there have been times where I’ve really, really wanted to.” I even spoke to Melvin about
maybe going during one of our breaks the first year we were together. He didn’t want to spend the
money, which is understandable. “But like I said, things have been so busy with school and
working, and I haven’t been able to take the time off.”
I heave a breath. “In my head the whole place has taken on this almost magical quality.”
A fresh wave of nostalgia washes over me. I catch a wistful glimmer in Pilot’s eye before he
looks away.
Two more blocks and the café should be up on the right. Traffic roars down the street as we
weave through a light crowd of midday walkers: middle-aged women, couples, and businessmen
speed by.
Pilot’s studying me again. It lights me up with nerves.
“Are you still making music?” I ask suddenly. We’ve come to the edge of another sidewalk. I
stare at the walk–don’t walk sign across the way. It feels so important that he’s still making music.