Free Falling for Your Madness by Katharine Grubb

controls me so much that the ink was fading. David was sorry. He didn’t want to lose me over this. I must be insane.
     
    I was trying so hard not to think about David. I tried, instead, to look , to get filled up, as my dad would say. It was easy to do on Beacon Hill. The whole neighborhood, especially Charles Street, is old and quaint and romantic. Cobblestone streets, the street lamps around the edge of the Public Garden, the landscaping, the trees, the gleam of the dome of the state capital. This part of the city was so cozy and romantic and magical. I could stay here and look at it all night.
     
    By now it was 6:48. I shouldn’t still be here. Where was Trey?
     
    The sun had set, so the lampposts were glowing. The Victorian-age buildings were full of romantic detail. They were all three and four stories high, with restaurants and retail shops on the first floor and offices and health clubs on the higher floors. The Charles River was at the end of the street, and you could almost see Cambridge from where I was standing. This was the neighborhood of Cheers , and just steps away from the Public Garden mentioned in Make Way For Ducklings. Many things, both fact and fiction, had happened in this neighborhood. I liked the history, and I loved the stories.
     
    Couples walked by, and I caught myself trying to identify where they were in their relationship. This pair were sweethearts. They were looking in each other’s eyes and laughing. The next pair were married. They were older, engaged with what the other one was saying, and appeared to be comfortable with each other. Then, there was a group of friends, but one young man, I could tell, was trying to get the attention of a young woman in the group. He was clumsy and a bit loud and went ahead to get the door. I secretly wished she would give him a chance.
     
    This all reminded me of David. I was getting very impatient with myself. I was trying so hard not to think about him, but I couldn’t help it.
     
    Still no Trey. I texted Mr. Baseball and kept it short. Where R U? Should I get a table? I wanted to get out of the cold, but I didn’t like the idea that I had to be the one to think of this. I am a lady, after all.
     
    I decided to give Trey one more minute. If he didn’t show, I would walk back across the Common to Park Street, get back on the Green Line and go home.
     
    But then Trey was there.
     
    “Hey Laura-loo! Am I late? Sorry. You look great. I’m starved. Let’s go in.” He kissed me on the cheek.
     
    I stiffened. What? Not the hand? I wasn’t really sure I liked being kissed on the southern hemisphere of my lovely face. I mean, is he my sweetheart? Or is he my friend? Why am I thinking this? What is wrong with me?
     
    “What’s wrong? Are you mad?”
     
    Yes. No. It didn’t help that there was a disturbing lack of flowers. “I don’t know. I have too much to think about, let’s. …”
     
    Just then, across the street, a black Crown Victoria pulled up. Out of it, with a bandage on his head, came long-legged, tweed-jacketed David. He had a duffle bag and a suitcase in his hands, and he saw me!
     
    “Ah! Laura!” He crossed the street in two strides and came right to me. “Good evening! How lovely to see you. Would you introduce me to your friend?”
     
    I had a hard time finding the right words. “This is Trey Landon. Trey, this is my friend, David Bowles.”
     
    David put down the bag and extended his hand to Trey. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, sir.”
     
    “Nice to meet you too.” Trey took my elbow.
     
    But I wasn’t ready to go. “David, your head. Are you feeling okay?”
     
    “Never better. It’s Saturday night. I’m on my way to fencing.”
     
    “With your shoulder?”
     
    “Remember? I was stabbed on my right shoulder. Fortunately for me, I am left handed. My toe and my concussion will probably hinder me a little, but I will feel immensely better after some exercise.”
     
    Trey pulled at my elbow