We Wandered in Hopes of Something Wonderful

Share / Compartir

Shares

When we turned down Newbury Street, my next step left a crack on the concrete. I saw it. A black beetle slipped into the pavement’s seams, running from the cold. The wind punched my heart with full force.

My grip on Margo’s forearm halted her steps. I squinted, searching for a presence before me. Her drowning laugh stopped as she followed my line of sight, unable to see the invisible. He’s not there. He’s not here.

“Did you forget something at Blue Bottle? We can go back.”

“No, it’s nothing. Let’s keep walking.”

It’s been three years since I’ve seen him in person. Not many, but enough. Margo picked up her pace, pounding her petite feet on the sidewalk. She sipped her mid-day Americano with a splash of milk. I didn’t drink coffee. My chai latte sloshed around my cup, dripping over and out onto my fingers. I rubbed them on my sweater.

“Have you heard from Nico?” Margo said.

 “I haven’t responded.”

Life was playful, yet sometimes it threw things it knew I couldn’t catch. I walked here often. Two weeks ago, I met Nico with his dog Miso on a walk just like this one. One block ahead, at an hour I didn’t usually walk. It had been three days since I’d stopped responding, and I found myself feeling the fluttering again.

Her hand swallowed mine as she chastised my reluctance to give a guy a chance.

I said, “If there’s no spark from the start, what’s the point?”

“To enjoy.”

Some girls grew daisies of pleasure. Others had mothers or priests plant weeds of unease. I pried and replaced them with sunflowers. When his vines invaded, I cut most of them away, but some clawed tendrils got left behind. I always found them in the worst moments.

“Just pick a store. I’m starting to freeze.” Nothing seemed worthy, so we wandered in hopes of something wonderful.

The sun lit up the trees, guiding our bodies down the avenue. Suddenly, Margo dove to greet a dog. I knew that dog. Miso.

Margo cooed at Miso before proclaiming she had many plans and left.

The sunlight scanned our sitting figures on a bench along Commonwealth Avenue. Nico described his last couple of days. Baked, worked, and went to the vet. After a year indoors, it was nice to see everything opening back up. I agreed. With Miso on my lap, the itchy feeling to run lessened. I dug my hands through his hair. His long oily strings stuck between my fingers. People passed. Their masks hid their faces, yet their movements yelled excitement. In a world where everything fell apart so quickly, nice weather kept us together.

Nico cautiously rested his arm around the back of the bench. His voice morphed into a metronome. Every couple of ticks, I sang a note. The rhythm became comforting, and after a while, we started to harmonize. With a mind of its own, my hand left Miso’s back and reached forward to hold his. A soft wind brought me back to reality. As my hand twitched in his grasp, he gently grabbed it tighter for a moment, and let go.

My phone rang with an Instagram notification. Someone liked my picture. I took advantage of the opportunity to text Margo.

Tuesday, 2:42 pm – Where the hell did you go?

Tuesday, 2:43 pm – Are you at the apartment? We should regroup asap!!

She didn’t answer. I told Nico she asked me to meet her at a nearby store. She needed money to buy a stuffed animal. He understood the urgency. Hugged me goodbye.

I ran home. Margo let me know Dylan had called. She’d met him a few weeks back. He called her three times a week, mostly around 10 PM. Weekends, too. She would run to see him whenever he summoned her.

Lying in bed that night, my thoughts traveled like shadows in the dark. I longed for someone to cuddle close. The silk pillow cover cupped my cheek, smelling like my lavender shampoo. I imagined Nico’s body next to mine. Fingertips like feathers tickling my skin. As fast as the thought came, it was taken over by another. I was not on this bed. Those weren’t his hands. How could he say nothing, knowing there was so much to say? Shady people had a way of slithering around, hiding in sight of the light.

I turned on my lamp and made myself a cup of tea.

The next morning, I opened his last texts.

Friday, 3:33 pm – Hahaha, you’ll have to show me one day. So, what are you doing this weekend?

Tuesday, 6:14 pm – Great running into you today! We should hang out soon.

I replied.

Wednesday, 10:45 am – Same! It really was a nice day to be outside.

He replied.

Wednesday 11:01 am – Right? The weather’s supposed to hold up until next week. Let me know when you’re free.

Nico didn’t play texting games. Before my class ended, we’d agreed to meet. Friday at 6 pm, we’d get coffee in Little Italy and walk around the city.

***

When I exited my building that day, I looked down to see him sitting on the stoop, facing the park across the street. Nico’s shoulders floated up and down as the door shut behind me. At the sound, he rose up to face me. His wide smile took me aback. I wondered if I should be worried as I followed him down the steps.

He was glad we found a moment to get to know each other better. We talked about our classes. I’d had class online that day, and it was really fun for once. He couldn’t stand sitting in front of his computer for long periods of time. Not enough stimulus, no matter the subject. I found out we both loved Marvel. I was obsessed with the WandaVision show that came out earlier this year. He loved the new rendition of Spider-Man. I hadn’t seen that one yet. He offered to make me dinner so we could watch it together.

“Are we super nerdy?” I bumped him with my shoulder.

“Nah, we’re cinematographically cultured.”  

I laughed and interlaced my arm with his.

Nico opened the glass door of the shop. A chime irritated my ears as the smell of coffee caffeinated my sinuses. Our hands clasped. He pushed us around the crowd. After making it to the end wall and back, an older couple stood, giving us their newly abandoned table. He ordered us coffee and pulled my chair closer to his, wrapping his arm around me. Drinking coffee next to the large window, his arm felt like a belt against my waist, keeping me together. A pungent smell wafted over in waves. Could it be his breath? No, it was all the coffee in this place. The opening door brought in winds of relief. The coffee cup in my hands doubled as gloves. When he finished talking, he waved his hand in the air. The waitress arrived, placing the check in the middle of the table. We both reached for our wallets. He pulled out a credit card. I pulled out a twenty. With a point of her finger, the “CASH ONLY” sign emerged above our heads. I reached to place the bill on top of the check when Nico pushed my hand aside. He left me sitting alone and disappeared to an ATM. With his return, we started the trek back up to my neighborhood.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he said.

“I have to catch up on a lot of work. Is that ok?” I said.

“Of course. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

On the walk back, the sun no longer felt warm. The light was too bright. Something could appear without permission. Instinctively, I felt for Nico’s waist, and he tugged me inward.

I guessed the next step called for seeing him more often. That involved actually texting him back.

Saturday 10:02 am – Good morning, beautiful. Good luck with all your work today!

 Each ding of my phone shook my nervous system. When it wasn’t a message from Nico, I could exhale. When it was him, every letter I typed on the screen pricked my fingertips.

I texted back.

Saturday 12:01 pm – Haha, hiii! Thanks. What are you up to today?

On Sunday, we ate brunch and found the cheapest, bottomless mimosas money could buy. Tuesday, we walked Miso during our mutual class break. Saturday, we went to the grocery store and cooked dinner at his place. Well, he cooked, and I watched. Margo was elated that I was dating Nico, primarily since it meant I had finally left the house. “Dating” meant getting to know someone, right?

***

Margo and I had a thing we called “Mental Breakdown Mondays,” since one of us, and sometimes both of us, would happen to fall apart on the Monday of every week. We’d recently crashed out over the future. My professor had boasted that ninety percent of seniors graduated with a job offer. With the life choices we’d been making, we’d be part of the other ten percent.

This time, I cried over the lunch plate Margo cooked for me. I was losing my mind over a coding class.

“Why are you even taking it? It has nothing to do with your major,” said Margo.

“Well, everyone keeps saying coding is the future. I don’t want to be left behind.”

 I persuaded Margo to take a study break and get a coffee with me. At the counter, Margo ordered a cold brew. I tagged in and ordered a matcha latte.

“My treat,” I said. “Am I supposed to leave a 20% tip?” I murmured to Margo when the lady turned the iPad around to me.

“I never do. For what? Pecking at a screen?” she said.

I just clicked the lowest percentage they offered. When we sat down, I gave her the rundown on the last few weeks with Nico.

“I don’t know how I feel, Margo.”

“What do you mean? What you just described makes him sound pretty great.”

“It’s just. Something feels off. Nico likes me more than I like him. I can see it in his eyes.”

“Yes, ’cause you can read minds? Stop assuming. Maybe he just wants you for sex!”

“He hasn’t given me more than a peck. Are we twelve? He definitely likes me too much.”

“Just let it flow. Stop second-guessing everything.”

***

Nico never felt afraid living alone. Not even when the heaters whispered and whistled in the middle of a film. Haunted sounds thrived in this environment, and he just thanked them for keeping him warm. What would it feel like to thank sudden sounds instead of assuming they are burglars at the ready? I’d never know.

When I told him that, he looked at me, lifting an eyebrow in my direction. I slapped his arm, walking away from the couch. Served myself more of the Riesling he had in his fridge, even though white wine always left me with a sour taste after every sip. “More champagne?” I said, and had a bottle of Miller High Life in my hand before he said yes.

As time ticked, togetherness became unstoppable. When he talked, my eyes moved to his lips. Our bodies conversed. A leg over another. Hand on an ankle. Knee. Thigh. Air bubbles caught the laughter and popped all around our ears. Our tongues met, and I felt no fear. The couch lifted us, and the exposed brick along the walls guided our way to the bedroom. I needed to see what was under his shirt. I wanted to show him what was under mine. His touches felt like they belonged to my skin until one wrong movement replayed one old thought, and I jumped. He had a way of infiltrating thoughts that weren’t even about him. My hands hesitated, and he pulled me off his lap.

“You’re shaking. Are you ok? What did I do?”

“No, you’re fine. It’s all fine.”

“Are you sure? We can stop. I never imagined this would even happen.”

“No. Yes. I just can’t right now. Is that ok?”

“I’m so sorry if I pushed too much. I should have never—”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“I just want to be with you. Do you want to hug?”

“It’s not you. I’ll just go home now.”

“Stay the night. We can finish the movie.”

“I always sleep in my own bed.”

***

Margo looked up when the door slammed closed. She asked what I was doing home so early from my date. My eyes must have talked. She extended her arms out. I jumped onto the couch with her without saying a word. As my head rested on her chest, I could feel every thump of her heart on my ear.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

            My limbs felt numb as my muscles tightened. The emotions in my brain pounded against my skull like bulls trying to escape their pen. When I sat up, I realized I left tears all over. My eyes no longer fit in their sockets. With my knees bent as my headrest, I remembered I could breathe. I didn’t invite him into my thoughts. He broke in. I didn’t know when it would stop. I liked Nico enough. I never imagined an obstacle. No one mentioned the mental blocks.

 “Wine?” said Margo.

“Always.”

Margo served us our classic Decoy Cab Sav in her pink dollar store mugs. Our little speaker squeaked out one of her “chill” playlists she spent hours crafting. It filled the small space, patiently waiting for our unsaid words. One serving disappeared while we discussed our days. Another took us to the beginning of my date. She sipped as the alcohol forced the fears in my heart out of my mouth. I sipped as she tried to comfort me with her own.

When we’d had enough, the truth bled out of our wine-stained lips. For Margo, well, she loved Dylan too much. He never called anymore. It had been a while. Without him, she felt empty. Something she defined as a relationship, he defined as enjoyment.

 I hadn’t been with anyone since him. I’d tried with Nico tonight, but I couldn’t. Something switched off in my brain. Numbed my body. The ghost of his touch found a way to interrupt. What could I do to get him out? She thought I should listen to my body. If it was telling me to stop, why would I ignore it?

“Our bodies tell us more about our heads than we know in our own heads. You know?”

“Maybe…but what if it never stops? What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

“You won’t be.”

We cried for one another and filled our torn hearts with more wine.

“No one deserves us,” said Margo.

“Agreed,” I said. “But at least Nico makes me feel like I could be safe.”

“Well, go. Go explain why you left,” she said. I blinked, pushing the water out of my eyes, and reached for my mug. I missed, slapping it to the floor. I stared at the splotch, willing my knees to touch the rug while Margo handed me an old rag from the kitchen counter. I put my entire body weight in the palms of my hands, pushing down, feeling the rag and rug become one. I released the pressure.

“We’re its third owners. Leave it,” she said.

“I don’t know if I can make it there alone,” I said, standing up. I pulled Margo from the depths of the couch and dragged her out the door.

We walked, the lamp posts directing us towards Nico’s apartment.

“Look at how the moon shines, Margo.”

At his door, I hit the button named after him. Nico feared we’d freeze, and let us up. Margo tripped onto his couch and slept. I ran straight to him. His body marbleized at my sudden affection.

“Are you alright?”

Guiding him into his bedroom, I sat at the top of the bed, hugging one of his pillows close. I apologized for showing up. He said I was always welcome. He looked at me. Miso settled next to me, his heat against my vibrating body.

I told Nico it happened a few years ago. “I thought he was my friend. We got tea almost every day. He sat with me during lunch. Always smiled. He’d let me know where the group would be going out. Something about his look intrigued me so much. One night we were dancing. All of a sudden, something rang, and I realized we were surrounded by his roommates. How had we gotten there? One told him to stop. He didn’t listen. I don’t remember hearing anything else. When I woke up, I went home. For days, I wondered what felt so wrong. I knew. I just didn’t want to know.”

I felt a broken link with the words that leaked from my mouth. I’d forgotten Nico was there until I looked up to find his eyes. He kneeled on the ground in front of me, combing his hand through his hair, his eyes holding mine. When did I stop breathing?

“You can cry with me. I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

With permission, he held my confession and calmed my cries until we slept.

The shutting of a door nearby cued me in on Margo’s departure.

As I lay on his bed, the sun danced into the room, thawing me with its admiration. I felt Nico rest by my side.

Nothing looked better than the way he looked, looking at me. We talked all through the day. He couldn’t believe we walked over in that cold. I was feeling all right.

“Let’s make some coffee. You must be so hungover,” he said.

“It wasn’t that much wine. Well, enough to have kept the cold at bay. Anyway, coffee won’t help.” When would he see that I didn’t drink coffee?

“Sure. Where did Margo go so early, anyway?”

“I’m surprised she didn’t take Miso.”

“I hate him for what he did to you.”

“Me too.”

***

Weeks passed. We made our Sunday brunch our tradition. Walked the city three times over, making it a point to visit an unknown place every time. We found a boba place, an unofficial Harry Potter merch store, an underground dispensary, and a rock and roll themed bar that gave out pink flamingo floaties with a certain specialty drink. Nico was careful not to touch me much. Curious how a story can tie two minds together while pushing their bodies apart.

One Saturday, he drove us in my hand-me-down 2012 Porsche Cayenne to a lake. A local class friend had advertised it when asked what she did last weekend by a professor who often feigned interest in our lives. We stationed our towels on top of the hard rocks next to the water. Leaving Nico’s side, I positioned myself in front of him. He drank a canned vodka seltzer. I removed my graphic tee. Slid down my shorts. Melted ice water touched my toes. Too cold to swim, I pushed the water from side to side with my feet, swaying despite the water’s stillness. Nico walked past me. Declared the water warmer than his regular ice baths. I took a big step forward. And another. Looked at the round clouds in the sky until my legs brought me to his side. My shoulders were under the water. I wrapped my arms over his and pressed our bodies together. He let me hang there without touching me back. He walked out.

Thinking of every little move he didn’t make towards me caused my chest to compress. I cultivated a growing desire for his touch. I feared the truth that gave me air to breathe stopped him from seeing me as complete. I wasn’t perfectly healed, but when I was with him, I felt a bit closer. I needed him to know. Nico’s touch could rewrite the story on my skin. I wanted him to play with my hair while we watched a movie. Kiss me on a park bench.

On the drive back, I held his hand a little tighter. Pushed him a little closer. We arrived at his apartment. My clothes had gotten wet. He lent me his shower. A towel. He dressed me in his sleep shirt and left me to shower himself. I waited on his couch. Opened my arms when he walked through the door, and burned when he placed his body over mine. I could enjoy. I would enjoy. I snaked my hand through his curls. Burrowed his head into my breasts. Pushed myself further down to meet his face with mine. Nico let my hands roam. Moaned. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Exposed my lower half to his. Pushing him inside, I thought of nothing. Nico lightly touched my neck, and just like that, my open eyes went dark.

He was back. But how was he back. I needed him gone. I thought I’d done it right, pushing him out of my head and making him leave, but he’s not letting me live. Trying to make myself push away from Nico, I felt a balloon begin to inflate in my chest, but the pump was broken, making my torso break into two. I had to leave, but I couldn’t go. Arrested in this moment, all I could do was wait. I saw nothing, felt everything. He kept touching me as I searched my breath for the words.

“Um, can you stop,” I muttered.

Immediately, he ascended into the air. I was cold. So cold. He didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do.

“I need a blanket.” He tried helping me cover up, but it wasn’t him. Not right now.

“Breathe with me.”

“I can’t.” My head spun like a wheel gone rogue with nowhere to crash.

Time should have healed me. No matter how much I ached to willingly accept the chorus of Nico’s touches, the songs clashed, creating a tumultuous dissonance inside me.

Nico timidly pulled me towards his chest. Wrapping his arms around my body, he whispered, “In and out,” over and over. All I could think about was the sound of his heart beating. Reverberating across my body.

“I’m broken.”

“You’re perfect.”

The next morning, there was no talking, no coffee. The adoration in his eyes morphed into pity I couldn’t house. How fucking embarrassing. This will never work. Especially not like this. I started to gather my things as fast as my body could move, knowing he was too afraid to kick me out himself. Our bodies collided in my rush for his bedroom door. He grabbed my shoulders, ran his arms down to my hands, making me drop everything I held. “I know you’re the one. I love this. I love us, together. I love you.” My heart blew out. The pieces floated through my bloodstream. All I could hear was the high-pitched siren of my self shutting down. This is not possible. Not yet. This me he knows is not the me I am.

“I love you, too.” No, I didn’t. A ringing slapped me into the present moment. My phone. Margo said something about not finding the remote control anywhere in the apartment. I couldn’t hear straight. It was time to go. But I couldn’t go. I responded with something about checking under the cushions. I ate the eggs he made. Drank the coffee mug he placed in front of me. I put on the t-shirt he gave me, even though each inhale resisted his smell. I watched what he wanted on the TV screen. I let him embrace me from behind, nuzzle his face into my neck while I filled up my water bottle. I said we were in love.

Maybe I could one day. I just had to hold out. If he loves this me, when I find the real me, he’d love me more, right?

I swallowed the judgment till I made it home. Time to sleep again, but no. Thoughts attacked from all sides. My legs kicked at nothing but the sheets that forced me down. The streetlight loomed into my room through the cracks, blinding me in the dark.

Foto de Jim Luo en Unsplash

Michelle Salomon Simon is a graduate of Babson College and develops her literary work while preparing as an aspiring MFA in Creative Writing.

©Literal Publishing. Queda prohibida la reproducción total o parcial de esta publicación. Toda forma de utilización no autorizada será perseguida con lo establecido en la ley federal del derecho de autor.

Las opiniones expresadas por nuestros colaboradores y columnistas son responsabilidad de sus autores y no reflejan necesariamente los puntos de vista de esta revista ni de sus editores, aunque sí refrendamos y respaldamos su derecho a expresarlas en toda su pluralidad. / Our contributors and columnists are solely responsible for the opinions expressed here, which do not necessarily reflect the point of view of this magazine or its editors. However, we do reaffirm and support their right to voice said opinions with full plurality.

Posted: December 8, 2025 at 4:30 pm