Blowing out a breath, Mom ponders for a moment before saying, “It’s none of your business, and you know that.”
“It is my business, yes. Since my fiancé left me, I have the right to know why.”
“I promised I wouldn’t repeat it to anyone, including you,” she confesses. A short silence settles between us, then Mom adds, “Petra, I know it’s hard to understand with so little information why I did this. But trust me on this—I did it with the best intentions.”
“I hate you,” I tell her, matching her cold and clinical tone. “I hate you, and I hope I never see your face ever again.” And I hang up. This must have been the most useless phone call I’ve ever had. Why on earth did she even bother to call? Was it just to hear me crying over my fate? Was it to make sure Alex was not talking to me anymore? In any case, she’s a real bitch.
“Miss?” I hear Janine calling behind the door as she knocks twice.
“Yeah?”
Janine walks in and says, “Um, sorry to bother you, but your friends are here.”
“Already?” My brow lifts instantly. And I realize I’m late for our usual meetup at nine o’clock. Despite Janine waking me up an hour ago, I remained in bed, devoid of any will to get up. “Janine, do you mind showing them to the library, please?”
“They are already in there.”
“Alright, tell them I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Miss, did you eat something?” But before I can answer, she asks, “Would you like some avocado toast?”
“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“Miss, you promised us you will eat.”
Drawing in a breath, I say, “Well, it’s not that easy.” The truth is, the will to eat is never there. How am I supposed to eat when I never feel the need to? I get up, and, as I’m about to take a step, I feel a cold shiver running through my entire body, and another terrible headache seems to take over me. I wince at the pain and sit back down on the bed, waiting to feel better.
“Are you alright?” Janine asks, her voice laced with concern. “You’re gonna eat.” Now her voice has turned so authoritative that I barely recognize her. “You need to eat. Otherwise, you’re gonna get sick. And I’m not letting it happen.” And she leaves the bedroom just as fast. I grab the glass of water sitting on the nightstand and drink it down all at once. Then I wonder if Alex would come back to persuade me to eat if my health was in jeopardy. Maybe if I got really sick and my weight kept dropping, he would come back. But at that stage, Dad would most likely send me to a clinic to get transfusions. Maybe if Alex knew I was in the hospital, he would come back. My body is tired, like it ran a marathon before I even got out of bed, but I make the conscious effort to stand up and head to the bathroom despite all the pain. Politeness and good manners toward my guests are a good motivation. After a quick, warm shower, I brush my teeth, and, as I face the mirror, I drop the towel and observe myself attentively. My brows crease as I take in the view, then I go back to the bedroom to get dressed quickly. I decide to wear a push-up bra, a large sweater, and a pair of jeans to hide my scrawny physique. Then I head to the library, where I find my group watching a video on David’s phone.
“Hey, sorry for the delay,” I say as I walk in.
“Hey.” Matthew is the first to greet me, and while everyone is still watching the video, he leaves the group and comes to meet me. “How are you doing?” he asks in a low voice.
“Um, I’m fine.” I give him my biggest smile in an attempt to disguise my sickness.
As I’m about to walk toward the study table, Matthew asks, “Can I invite you to lunch?”
I raise my eyebrow, surprised by his invitation. It’s the second time he’s asked me out. And I feel like declining again.
“Matthew, um…” That’s all I manage to say. I seriously don’t feel like eating out. Actually, I don’t feel like eating at all.
“There is a very nice Japanese restaurant nearby. They have vegan sushi,” he says. “It’s, like, super hard to get a reservation, but I managed to get a table for two.”
“Oh…” Now he’s left me speechless. “Um, why don’t you go with Sarah? I’m sure she’d love it.”
“Sarah hates sushi. And she is not my vegan bestie.” His cheeky tone makes me crack a smile.
“Well, then… um, alright.”
Matthew glows with a full-tooth grin. “I’m sure you’re gonna love it.” His hand goes to my arm, and he rubs it excitedly. “Thank you.”
I can’t deny it—Matthew knows what he’s talking about. As soon as we step into Franchia Vegan Café—a small, discreet, and unpretentious restaurant situated on Park Avenue, I immediately fall in love with the place. It’s impossible not to with its minimalist and zen vibe. Upon our arrival, we are welcomed by a friendly waiter who escorts us to a quiet table in the back and gives us menus.
As we sit, Matthew asks, “So, what do you think?”
“It’s amazing,” I reply just as fast. “Thank you for insisting I come.”
“I’ve wanted to try this place for quite some time,” he confesses. “But I wanted to try it out with you.”
His voice is warm, and I give him a small smile, a bit troubled by his openness. Or maybe I have been the one who hasn’t been paying enough attention to my friends, especially to him. After all, he has always been so caring with me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise.
“Thanks,” I tell him sincerely. “I know I haven’t been a great friend lately…”
While I search for the best words to express myself, Matthew takes over. “Petra, I’m seriously worried about you. In two weeks, you’ve become so thin and bony.” Wow. His comment is so unexpected that I lower my gaze in utter embarrassment. “What he did to you is disgusting. But life goes on. You should be mad at him and forget him.”
“I agree. What he did is bullshit.” After the waiter fills our glasses with water, I take a sip of mine and add, “You have no idea how much it hurts. I feel cheated, you know.”
The waiter reappears and asks, “Are you ready to order?”
“Yes. Um, we’ll have two vegan sushi combos, please,” Matthew answers.
“There are twenty-one pieces in the combo,” I tell him in terror. “How am I supposed to eat that much?”
“Did you have breakfast?” he asks me back.
“No…”
“Then you can perfectly well eat twenty-one pieces of vegan sushi. It’s not that much, trust me.” After the waiter takes our order and leaves, Matthew seems to be thinking something through. “Um, if I may ask, do you know why your ex moved to Singapore?”
“Oh.” And now I’m even more surprised that we are still talking about him. It’s the first time I’ve heard the word ex. Guess it’s a word I should get used to. “Well, he said he couldn’t marry me and that my parents are also an issue,” I tell him, keeping it short. “It’s all bullshit.”
“But do you know why?”
And for some unknown reason, I have no issue telling him the truth. “My parents are very against us, especially my mom,” I confess. “And since she has some dirt against him and my dad, she threatened them if he didn’t leave me alone.” Not sure why I decided to tell him all that, but I’ve known Matthew for over a year now, and I don’t think there’s any reason not to trust him.
“Wall Street and its skeletons…” Matthew teases, shaking his head. “See? That’s why we need Bernie.”
“Oh gosh!” I can’t help but laugh at his comment. “So that’s what you guys have been up to with your extracurricular activities?”
“Yep,” Matthew replies with a big grin. “But I know you’re not into activism, so that’s why I didn’t invite you.”
“You did well. I’m definitely not into that.” I keep my tone joyful and add, “So, what kind of activism have you been doing?”
“Well, we do podcasts, interviews, and YouTube videos teaching people about social rights and stuff,” he explains. “It’s mostly educational.”
As I contin
ue observing him, I decide to ask, “You must be hating our study about objectivism and Rand, no?”
“Hmm, since we are doing an unbiased project, I’m focusing on the bad side of her philosophy.”
“Yeah, I read your ten reasons why objectivism sucks,” I say.
Matthew smiles at me in return. “And what did you think of it?”
“I think you did a good job.” I keep my tone even, but Matthew is already nodding at me. “And showing both sides of the coin will give us a better grade.”
“Exactly. And we’ll have a good reputation among our profs.”
“Here are the vegan sushi combos.” The waiter puts our plates in front of us, and I smile at the delicious rolls with avocado, cucumber, and other imaginative combinations.
“Enjoy,” he says before leaving.
“So, what do you think?” Matthew beams with joy as he takes his chopsticks and grabs the first avocado roll off his plate.
“It looks delicious,” I tell him as I do the same. “Thanks.” I mean, each roll is pretty small and seems quite easy to eat. Or at least, easier than I thought.
His gaze remains pinned on me, and his lips curve into a smile I haven’t seen before—a smile full of empathy and compassion. Something I don’t see very often. “You’re welcome.”
I wonder what I did to deserve a friend like Matthew—caring, attentive, empathetic. I’m really blessed to have him by my side during the worst breakdown of my life. With Emma out of town, I was terribly missing the emotional support, and having someone to talk to who has no agenda. Someone that is the precise opposite of my dad. I remember how Matthew has always been present in the hardest moments. Even if I didn’t pay much attention to him, he was always there, cheering for me.
“Thanks for lunch,” I tell him as we walk back to my apartment.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he replies warmly.
And as I think something through, I ask, “Um, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
Surprised by my question, Matthew takes a few more seconds before answering. “I was thinking of studying, but if it’s to be with you…” A soft smile charms his lips, and he says, “I can study later tonight.”
Shaking my head at his cheeky tone, I give a quick laugh and say, “Um, there is a private exhibit of Borderless by teamLab in a collaboration with Yayoi Kusama happening tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me? I mean, I know art is not your thing, but…”
“I’m sure it’s gonna be fun,” he replies before I can even finish my sentence. “Should we meet at your place?”
Wow, that was quick. “Um, yep, tomorrow at four p.m. What do you think?”
Matthew bobs his head, unable to hide the smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with joy. “Sounds great.”
“See you tomorrow, then.”
“See you tomorrow. And don’t forget to have dinner!” he reminds me, before giving me a cheek kiss.
“I will.”
“And I’m gonna FaceTime you later to make sure you ate.”
His scolding makes me laugh, and I can’t help but tease him, “Yes, sir.”
“See ya.”
Chapter 24
Manhattan, October 3, 2020
Petra Van Gatt
I don’t remember what it’s like to get one night of proper sleep. When I’m left alone in the darkness of my empty bedroom, my mind keeps replaying every moment Alex and I spent together… As I touch my pendant, I’m reminded of when he placed it on my neck and when we kissed for the first time. I find those memories so bright and warm that I can’t help but find refuge in them. Closing my eyes, I recall the day he said “I love you” for the first time, the moment he helped me choose my white dress, and the moments we spent together in Aspen. Those memories seem so close and yet so distant at the same time. I cherish them as dearly as I can, and I hope one day I’ll be able to create new ones with him. The more I think about it, the more I can’t accept the fact that he broke up with me. I just can’t. Call me crazy, but in my mind, Alex is just on a long business trip to Singapore. And I pray that one day he will come back. He has to come back. Jeez, what a pathetic woman I am for loving him so much. He doesn’t even deserve it.
A part of me wants to forget him once and for all and move on. But the other part—the strongest one—simply cannot accept it. I can’t picture a life without him, or, at least, a happy one. Unable to fall asleep, I turn the light on and take my iPhone from the nightstand. After seeing it’s four a.m., I unlock it and go to check my messages. Nothing new there. Then I go to my image gallery and look at all the photos Alex and I took together. I smile seeing the pictures taken at our engagement party, especially the ones where we are dancing together under a stream of gold-colored lights. My gaze then goes to my ring, and I keep wondering why Alex insisted so much for me to keep it when I was about to take it off. Something is really off. Surely no man who breaks off an engagement wants his ex-fiancée to keep an heirloom ring on her finger. Why should I keep your ring on my finger if I’m no longer engaged to you? I text him, despite the fact that he hasn’t seen any of my previous messages. Why doesn’t he text me and tell me the whole truth once and for all, for fuck’s sake? Damn it! Why so much secrecy? Letting out a breath, I force myself to get some sleep in order to be presentable for the exhibit later today.
Janine wakes me up at eleven-thirty a.m., and I truly appreciate her for not doing so earlier. Taking my iPhone, I can’t help but check to see if Alex replied to my last message. But my heart dies a little more seeing that my texts are only marked as delivered. They haven’t been seen yet, let alone answered. And it shouldn’t matter anyway. I should focus on myself and leave this asshole alone. Deciding to bury Alex and his memory once and for all, I turn to Janine and announce, “I’m going to an exhibit with Matthew. Do you know what I should wear?”
Janine jumps a little upon hearing me. She looks at me and blinks twice. “You are going out? With Matthew?”
I just shrug my shoulders and say, “Yeah.”
To my complete surprise, Janine claps her hands in excitement like a little child, making me raise my brows at her reaction. “I’m so proud of you, Miss.” She goes to my closet and tries to find the perfect outfit for the occasion. “Well, I didn’t have time to buy new clothes for you, but, um, what do you think about this dress?” I hear her saying from afar. Then she comes out of the closet to show me a black cocktail dress.
I can’t really match her enthusiasm, but I force myself to smile before saying, “Looks great.”
But Janine knows I’m just faking it, so she walks over and sits beside me. As she draws in a deep, long breath, her gaze remains pinned on me—a gaze that is more tender and nostalgic than usual. It feels like she’s carrying some sort of melancholia of her own inside of her. “You know, when I was your age, I was madly in love with an older man.”
“Really?” I ask, taken aback by her sincere confession.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, nodding at me. “And I know how much it hurts to have to let go.”
“But what happened? Why did you separate?”
“Well, life happened. Needless to say, I was left heartbroken. I thought he was my soul mate.” My heart reels hearing her words. It feels like I’m hearing myself from the future. “But there is nothing time can’t heal.” Her nostalgia is painted all over her face as she rubs my cheek to soothe me and to prevent the tears from falling from my eyes. But as we share a smile of appreciation for our similar battles, I can tell that Janine never forgot that man—she just learned how to live without him.
“The thing is, I know he loves me. And he knows I love him,” I blurt out. “That should be enough for us to be together.”
“I’m sure things will get better soon,” she says in a low voice, before giving me a wink.
And I’m left a bit confused at her comment. So, looking around the room and making sure there is no else here but us, I ask, “What does that mean?”
“It mean
s just keep the faith, Miss.” She takes my hand, holding it between hers. “Look, if love is enough, as you said, then your fiancé has not given up on you. But if that’s not the case, you must let him go.” Her fatalism makes me shudder, but to be honest, it sounds like the most logical and rational thing to do. After all, if love is enough for Alex, then he will come back sometime soon. But if it’s not, I have to move on. I’m not sure how, but I know I must do so.
Standing up, she says, “I’m gonna prepare lunch.” And then she points her index finger at me, squinting her eyes. “And don’t you dare not eat.”
Letting out a quick laugh, I’ve got no choice but to comply. “Fine, I will eat.”
I’ve always liked to dress up for exhibits. After all, artists put their hearts, minds, and souls into preparing new collections and then events to present their new masterpieces to the world. I guess it’s a matter of respecting their craftsmanship. As I’m finishing putting some gloss on my lips, my iPhone starts beeping with a new text message. And for an instant, my heart wanted it to be Alex, but my mind knew it was Matthew: Hey! How are you? Sleep well? I’m downstairs. Uber is waiting.
I text him straightaway: Coming down. 2 mins.
But before leaving, I take a Xanax to help me face the crowd—although I know it’s gonna be a very small one—and hurry downstairs.
I see his Uber parked right at the curb, and as I get into the car, I’m surprised to see Matthew wearing a face mask.
“Hey,” I greet him. “Oh, I should’ve asked Anthony to take us, I’m sorry…”
He doesn’t seem much bothered though. “It’s alright, the exhibit is, like, ten minutes from here.”
“Do you have a mask, Miss?” the driver asks me.
“Um, I’ve got a medical exemption.” And I take my medical statement out of my purse just in case. “If you want to read it, it’s signed by three physicians and a lawyer.”
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