Everything Changes

is infamous for its dearth of parking, and Norm once tried to put together an investment group to build a parking tower, but by the time the project made it to the zoning board, he’d lost interest, moved on to the equally ill-fated possibility of a modern multiplex in the shopping center. Norm’s short attention span and the municipality’s elderly predisposition toward immutability had proven to be a lethal combination. The avenue is a congested hive of activity, mothers dragging children by the hand or pushing them in strollers, teenaged boys in baggy surfer pants plugged into MP3 players, young girls laughing into cell phones lit up like Christmas trees. I walk among them all like the undead, observing unseen from my timeless hell while their lives move innocently forward, crossing the street to avoid the hardware store, lest Satch catch sight of me and attempt to incite a rematch.
    Ten minutes later I’m at Tamara’s front door, trying to work up the nerve to knock, when she pulls it open, looking drawn and on edge. I want to step right into her, to fold her around me and kiss her for an hour, until all the madness recedes and we can just be ourselves again, figure out the next move together. And I would do it, if it weren’t for this nagging fear that as soon as my lips got within striking distance, she might start to scream. We look at each other, each of us trying to determine where we fit into this new reality.
    “Hey,” she says.
    “Hey.”
    “Oh my God, look at your face.” She reaches out to touch the welt on my cheek, an imprint of Jack’s diamond pinky ring, but retracts her hand before it can make contact, as if unsure whether she’s allowed to touch me anymore.
    “I had it coming.”
    “You’re shivering,” she says. “Do you want to come in?”
    I step inside and we sit down on the couch. “Where’s Sophie?”
    “She’s watching
Annie
in the den.”
    I nod, all out of small talk. “I need to ask you something.”
    She closes her eyes. “Don’t, Zack. Please.”
    “You don’t even know what it is.”
    “Yes, I do,” she says, her voice cracking. “I know because I know you, better than anyone. Like I know myself. And I know I can’t give you the answer you want.”
    Suddenly, I’m finding it hard to breathe. “Why?” I say, and it comes out in a broken whisper.
    She knots her hair behind her head nervously. “It’s not your fault, Zack. I knew where things were heading with us, just like you. I’m not innocent here. And I hate that now I’m cast in the role of the other woman. That’s not who I am. I’ve only ever been the one.”
    “Listen,” I say. “You’ve never been the other woman, and I’ve never been the kind of guy who cheats. Our timing was terrible; I’ll give you that. But you were never the other woman. When I fell in love with you, Hope became the other woman. I’m not proud of that, but it’s the truth.”
    She shakes her head resolutely even as the tears come. “It doesn’t matter,” she says.
    “I don’t understand,” I say. “How can it not matter? Last night, that wasn’t just me. I know you were feeling it too.”
    She looks up at me, her eyes wide and stricken. “You didn’t choose me,” she says softly. “You felt this way all this time, and you didn’t choose me. And if we hadn’t gotten caught the way we did, you’d still be with Hope. And I can’t be the consolation prize, Zack. I might be lonely, and I might love you, but I will not start the rest of my life as anyone’s backup plan. Not even yours.”
    “Tamara . . .” I say, but after that, I’ve got nothing.
    “You didn’t choose me,” she says again. “And you know what the worst part is?”
    “What’s that?” I say.
    “Now I lose my best friend too.”
    I grab her hands. “You don’t have to,” I say, pleading with her. “Just keep me.”
    She presses her forehead against mine, eyes closed. “I can’t,” she whispers.
    After a moment, she gets up and runs upstairs. I walk into the den, where I find Sophie sitting on the couch, stroking a stuffed dog as she watches
Annie
. “Look, Zap,” she says, pointing to the screen. She seems utterly unsurprised to see me, as if I’m always here. As if I live here too. “
Annie.
”
    I sit down next to her and pull her onto my lap. She settles right in, clutching my fingers in her little fists. “What are they singing?” I say.
    “Hard-Knock Life.”
    Her favorite part. She sings along