“That was a decade ago.”
I shrug.
Vi shakes her blonde bob in disapproval. “Well, I’m already here, so I’ll stay the night and leave early in the morning. Hopefully by then, you’ll change your mind about coming back to the city with me.”
“I don’t know.” Thinking hard, I look away, my eyes drifting to the light beige wall in front of us. Hanging on it is a large mosaic I did of two women in sunhats, toasting margaritas. It’s supposed to be me and Olivia that time we went to Cancun after college.
“Do you ever wish we could go back to that moment and stay there?” she asks, now staring at the mosaic, too.
It had been a really tough time in my life. I had debt from college and didn’t know what I wanted to do. Jobs for people with degrees in art history weren’t exactly raining down from the sky. I toyed with the idea of working at a museum, but after a short stint at a local gallery, I realized—yes, after all that work getting my degree—that I wanted to create art, not just talk about it or sell it. So I started making sculptures and working with glass in my spare time when I wasn’t busy looking for a job I might actually enjoy. Finally, I got a position at the local community center, doing everything from pottery to painting and scrapbooking. Not my dream job, but at least I was helping people learn to love creating as much as I do. And since I lived with my mom and her mortgage was next to nothing, I saved a lot of money.
Then, about a year ago, right after my grandmother died, I met Greg. His mom was taking one of my papier-mâché classes and recommended I call her son the Realtor to get advice about selling my grandma’s house. He was already in the process of moving to New York State—said that was where he wanted to set up shop because the market was hot and he had a friend who’d done the same. Anyway, we met up, hit it off, and after a few short months of long-distance dating, he asked me to move to New York and live with him. I took the leap and said yes. At the time, it felt amazing to be caught up in a whirlwind romance, but I think I was more in love with the idea of sharing my life with another person. I overlooked who that other person really was.
What kills me most is that I let him change me when I used to be so trusting. I was never afraid of people or life. Now, I feel like a horrible slimy goblin hiding in a dark, wet cave, just waiting for someone to come and rob me of my wormy porridge. My gruel. Mine, I say. Stay away! I would give anything to be my old self again.
I turn my head toward Olivia, who’s still staring at the mosaic I made to remember one of the best days of my life. “If I could go back and live in that moment forever, I would do it in a heartbeat. Just as long as I don’t have to relive the next day.”
She laughs. “That hangover was pretty bad. Your face kept vacillating between green and cocoa brown.”
“That’ll teach me to sunbathe and drink nothing but margaritas, but I did get a sweet-ass tan.” I normally have a café-con-leche tone, but after that day, I looked like delicious cinnamon toast.
“Oh, but we had so much fun.” She sighs contentedly. “I wish I could see you smile like that again, Ginnie. Maybe you can tell that to the bottle man.”
I know she’s kidding, but her comment sparks an idea. “What if all he wants is for me to make a wish? Then he’ll just go away.”
“But what would you wish for? Not that he’s really going to grant it.”
It gets me thinking again. If I really could wish for one thing, what would it be? There are so many choices.
Rewind the clock and never have met Greg?
Live forever in Cancun with Olivia, like a version of the movie Groundhog Day?
Win a billion dollars so I can donate it to charities?
Maybe I’d wish to be young forever. Oh! Or maybe I could have a superpower, like being invisible or flying.
But in my heart, I know I’d never ask for anything selfish. Wouldn’t feel right. Not because I’m a saint or anything like that, but because I firmly believe every person is put on this earth for a reason. I’d want to do good with my wish.
So then, what would it be?
Cure for cancer?
World peace?
End to hunger?
How would anyone make that kind of choice?
Guess it’s good that it’s only hypothetical, then.
“No clue. How about you?” I ask.