Chapter 2: To new chapters
Joseph stood before the full-length mirror near his reading nook, adjusting the cuffs of his white dress shirt. The black suit jacket lay draped over the back of his armchair. It was a good suit, tailored, bought for a coaching award ceremony a lifetime ago.
From down the hall, he could hear Joey arguing with his tie. “It’s a knot, not a hostage situation,” Joseph called out, his voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged space.
“You come do it, then!” Joey shouted back.
Joseph finished with his cufflinks, simple silver bars, and walked to his brother’s doorway. Joey stood flushed, a length of silk mangled in his hands. Joseph gently batted his hands away. “Relax.” His own fingers moved with practiced ease, looping and tucking. “Sarah’s gonna think you strangled yourself before she got here.”
“She’d probably laugh,” Joey grumbled, but stood still. “You seem calm.”
“I am calm,” Joseph said, which was only half a lie.
“It’s just a party,” Joey said, as if reading the tension in Joseph’s shoulders.
“It is.” Joseph gave the tie a final, firm pull. “There. You look respectable.”
The buzzer from the lobby rang. Sarah.
The car ride downtown was a capsule of light and noise. Joey drove, one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing as he talked about a client at the gym he managed. Sarah, sweet and sharp-witted in the passenger seat, laughed at all the right places. Joseph sat in the back, watching the city blur past his window—neon signs smearing into streaks of color, pedestrians moving in slow-motion crowds.
He felt hyper-aware of his own body. The starch of his shirt collar. The weight of his phone in his pocket.
“You’re quiet back there,” Sarah said, turning her head to smile at him.
“Just taking it in,” Joseph said. “It’s a nice night.”
It was. The sky was a deep velvet blue, the first bold stars punching through the orange haze of the city lights. The Gardner was in the heart of the Meatpacking District, a converted industrial building with a rooftop that was the stuff of magazine spreads.
They handed the keys to a valet whose uniform was crisper than Joseph’s suit. The elevator was all mirrored brass and low, throbbing music. Joey squeezed Sarah’s hand. Joseph watched the numbers climb, his reflection staring back at him, a tall man in black looking vaguely like he was headed to a very pleasant sentencing.
The doors slid open directly onto the roof.
The effect was immediate and staggering. The rooftop garden was a fantasia of green and gold. Twinkling fairy lights were woven through a canopy of climbing jasmine, their sweet, heady perfume mixing with the cooler scent of evening air. Glass railings offered a dizzying, unobstructed view of the Manhattan skyline, a jewel-box grid of light stretching to the horizon.
A three-piece jazz band played something smooth and smoky near a granite bar that glowed from within. The crowd was a sea of pressed linen, shimmering silk, and easy, moneyed laughter.
“Holy hell,” Joey breathed.
James found them almost immediately. He cut through the crowd, a grin splitting his face. He looked incandescent with joy. He pulled Joey into a back-slapping hug, kissed Sarah on the cheek, and then turned to Joseph.
For a fraction of a second, Joseph saw it—a flicker of uncertainty in his best friends eyes. It was there and then gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered happiness. “You made it,” James said, pulling him in. The hug was tight, familiar. Joseph could smell James’s cologne, something citrus and expensive.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Joseph said, the words automatic. “This place is incredible.”
“Isn’t it?” James beamed, stepping back, his hand still on Joseph’s arm. “She picked it. Has an eye for this stuff.”
“So who is she?” Joey asked.
James looked nervous but pushed it down. He didn’t look at Joseph. “Should we get a beer?” James said, clapping a hand on Joey’s shoulder, already steering him.
“Yeah, we’re here to celebrate after all.” Joey said, going along with the momentum.
“I don’t drink.” Joseph said. The statement hung, simple and final. James nodded, the gesture quick, and his eyes finally flicked to Joseph’s—a silent, complicated plea.
“Right. Sorry, man. I forgot.” He hadn’t forgotten.
James, Joey and Sarah went off towards the bar, absorbed into the glittering throng. Joseph stayed put. The hum of conversation and jazz wrapped around him, a cocoon of noise that left him strangely isolated. He moved to the balcony near the elevator, needing air that didn’t smell of perfume and other people’s celebration.
He leaned on the cool glass, the city vast and indifferent below. The elevator behind him gave a soft, expensive ding.
He turned around.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw her.
Three years dissolved. The music, the lights, the entire rooftop vanished into a silent, crushing vacuum. It was her. Rachel. Her brown hair was shorter, swept over one shoulder in a style that was all sophisticated ease. She wore a simple dress the color of dark wine, and she was scanning the party, a small, anticipatory smile on her lips. She looked, impossibly, more herself than the ghost he carried.
He turned, walking away towards the bathroom before she saw him. His legs carried him with a mechanical precision he didn’t feel.
Joseph locked the single-occupancy door, leaning against it, breathing in. The roar in his ears was louder than any party. Of course she’d be here. She’s friends with James. Why wouldn’t he invite her, he thought.
At the bar, Joey, Sarah and James were talking, three flutes of champagne already gleaming in their hands. “So where is she?” Joey asked, unable to contain it any longer. “You’ve been hyping this mystery woman all night.”
“She’ll be here any minute.” James said, his voice tight with a giddy anxiety. He was looking past Joey, his whole body angled toward the entrance.
As if on cue, she came over, having spotted him. A path seemed to clear for her. “Hey Rachie,” James said, the nickname tender, leaning in to kiss her cheek. His hand settled on the small of her back, a gesture of pure, proud possession.
Joey looked at her. The recognition was instant, his affable face freezing mid-sip. His eyes darted from Rachel’s serene smile to James’s besotted one, and back. Understanding dawned, slow and horrible. “Rachel?” he said, the word leaving him like a breath he’d been holding.
“Hey Joey,” Rachel said, her voice warm, exactly as he remembered it. She stepped forward and hugged him, her smile genuine and bright, completely unaware of the fault line she’d just triggered beneath their feet.
Sarah extended a hand with a polite smile. “I’m Sarah,” she said, her voice deliberately light.
“Rachel,” she replied, shaking Sarah’s. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
James watched the exchange, his knuckles pale around his champagne flute. The jazz band slid into a slower number, the saxophone’s mournful cry weaving through the cocktail chatter.
Rachel glanced around the rooftop, her expression contented. “This place is breathtaking,” she said, turning back to James. “You were right about the view.”
“Only the best for you,” James said, kissing her temple. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Joey’s rigid posture.
Rachel smiled, then touched James’s arm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom I’ll be back.” Rachel said heading away.
Joey watched her blend into the crowd, the wine-colored dress disappearing behind a group of laughing guests. He turned to James, his voice a low, urgent whisper. “Rachel.”
James didn’t look at him; he stared at the spot where she’d vanished. “I know.”
“Does Joe know?” Joey said.
James shook his head.
Rachel walked towards the bathroom, her heels clicking softly on the polished concrete. She was mentally rehearsing how to tell Nicole about the party later, her mind on the delicate sequins of her clutch.
A door opened, a body collided with hers.
“Sorry I wasn’t looking—” Joseph’s voice died in his throat as he looked down at her.
Rachel looked up knowing that voice.
Joseph stared at her. “Rachel.” He said it like he’d run a marathon, breathless.
Rachel looked up at him. “Joseph.” She said it just as breathless.
The world around them—the jazz, the laughter, the clinking glass—seemed to warp and stretch, becoming a distant murmur from another room. He was here. He was really here, towering over her just as he always had, his blue eyes wide with the same shock she felt icing her veins. She could see the faint line between his eyebrows, the one that appeared when he was concentrating, or when he was in pain.
Three years vanished in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
They stood frozen in the narrow hallway outside the bathroom, a million unspoken words hanging in the air between them. He looked older, the lean lines of his face sharper, but his eyes were the same startling blue that had always seemed to see right into her.
Her mind scrambled, a chaotic slide show of then and now—his laugh in her old apartment, the way he’d tug his fluffy black hair when he was thinking.
Joseph shook his head, a quick, mechanical movement. “Sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He said. The words were flat, a recorded message.
“I- it’s okay.” She said. Her own voice sounded thin, far away.
He gave a tight nod. Then he simply stepped around her, his shoulder brushing the wall to avoid any further contact. He walked away, his tall frame moving with a stiff, deliberate speed down the corridor back toward the hum of the party.
Rachel let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She leaned against the cool wall for a second, pressing a hand to her stomach where the collision had left a phantom warmth. Get it together, she whispered to herself.
Joseph walked over to the bar, spotting Joey, Sarah, and James. His brother’s face was pale. Sarah was watching James with wary curiosity. James was gripping his champagne flute so tightly his knuckles were bone-white.
“So,” Joseph said, sliding into the space beside Joey. His voice was too loud, too cheerful. “Who’s this woman marrying my best friend? You’ve been holding out on us.”
Joey kept his head down, staring into his drink as if it held secrets.
James looked at him, his expression a raw mix of dread and hope. “It’s…” James looked over Joseph’s shoulder, seeing Rachel approaching their group. His eyes widened slightly, a silent signal.
Joseph turned around.
He was looking at her. She walked over, the city lights making a halo of the fairy lights behind her, and she sat on the stool next to James.
“Rachel,” James said, his voice thick.
Joseph looked at them. The shared stool. The way James leaned into her touch. He’s with Rachel. The thought wasn’t a question, just a cold, flat fact that hit his sternum like a swung bat. His chest hurt, a sharp, constricting pressure that made the next breath difficult.
“Congratulations,” Joseph said. He was smiling. He could feel the muscles in his face performing the act, flawless and empty.
James looked shocked, his mouth slightly open. He’d clearly braced for a fist, for fury, for anything but this gentle politeness. “Thanks man,” he said, the relief in his voice so palpable it was its own kind of pain.
Rachel’s gaze flickered from James’s grateful face to Joseph’s composed one. The space between them vibrated with everything unsaid.
Rachel looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. The single diamond on her left hand caught the fairy light, a sharp, cold gleam. She didn’t look at it.
“Well,” Joseph said, the word cracking slightly. He cleared his throat.
James ran a hand through his blonde hair. “I know. I should’ve said something sooner.” His voice was quiet, meant only for their small, ruined circle.
“You think?” Joey muttered, not looking up from his drink.
Joseph placed a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder, a silent command. He turned back to James, his blue eyes unsettling in their calm. “I’m happy for you. Both of you.” He meant it, in some detached, theoretical way that had nothing to do with the hollow pain spreading beneath his ribs.
A server glided by with a tray of champagne. James eagerly took two fresh flutes, handing one to James. His movements were too quick, a little clumsy. “To new chapters.” he said, raising his glass.
Joseph lifted his water glass. Joey didn’t move. “To new chapters,” James echoed. The crystal touched with a faint, high ping. He took a long swallow of water, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.
The band shifted into a softer, more rhythmic number. Couples began migrating toward the dance floor, a slow swirl of color and movement against the night sky. The sound of low laughter and shuffling feet grew around them, amplifying their own stiff silence.
Joey looked at Joseph. He knew he was putting up an act. He stood up. “Let’s dance.” He said looking at Joseph and grabbing Sarah’s hand.
“What? Joey, I don’t really—” Sarah started, but he was already pulling her away from the bar, his movements determined.
They walked over to the dance floor. Joseph sat at the bar watching Joey and Sarah. He tracked their forms as Joey pulled Sarah close, both of them a little stiff at first before melting into the music. A buffer. His little brother had thrown himself into the breach to give him a minute.
He traced a finger through the cold wetness on the bar’s polished surface. The city beyond the glass was a relentless galaxy of light, indifferent and vast.