Wrong Text, Right Love

by Claudia Burgoa

Lang: :wink: I knew we’d come to a happy arrangement.

  Joy: Do you want to play?

  Lang: Now we’re talking.

  Joy: Thank you for getting me out of the funk.

  Twenty-Three

  Podcast Week 6 Season 3

  Tuesday, July 7th

  “Hello, all you beautiful people. I’m Persy, and this is Life with Persy. Each week, I’m answering your questions about your relationships with your cat, your significant other, your parents, your siblings, and your roommate, to name a few.

  “Need to get along with a nosey neighbor from hell? There’s always a solution.

  “Does that cute guy from Tinder come with more baggage than you bargained for? We’ll talk it up and dish it out here.

  “I’ll offer advice, tactics, and tools that you can use in your daily life to create your own slice of happiness.

  “Just a reminder, this podcast is not suited for work, but you can play it almost everywhere else on your favorite podcast listening devices.

  “This week we’ll be covering coping mechanisms after a breakup, dating apps, and we are talking your calls so stick around.

  “This past weekend we celebrated Independence Day in America. As a family, we don’t have a big tradition. Actually, we are pretty new to celebrating it in America. Since we spent most of my life abroad, there wasn’t a pattern to follow. My family and I have celebrated so many holidays around the world. I was about nine, when we were in Pamplona and witnessed the Running of the Bulls.

  “Now, before you call child services because my parents had us running for our lives with the bulls chasing us, stop. We were on a balcony watching. There’s not a lot to watch, though. You wait and wait and wait for a long time, until the people being chased finally speed up through the streets and then, right behind them, come the bulls.

  “It’s really all about the people who surround you and are waiting along with you. They are all happy and excited. What I love the most about that festival is the fireworks. That’s the one thing that all the holidays around the world have in common, fireworks.

  “My favorite part is waiting for the sun to go down and watching the pyrotechnic show. No matter where I am, what people are celebrating, what language they speak. There’s always one thing everyone has in common, fireworks.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t fix our problems with a big party and a cool pyrotechnical show, can we? The show only lasts for so long, and we need a more permanent solution.

  “We have to find tools that help us cope, resolve, and move on. As a therapist, people reach out to me so I can help them. Currently, I’m working with a patient who is going through a divorce. She couldn’t find a common ground with her husband of only a year. One of the things she’s trying to understand is why she was able to make it to the altar, but after they said I do, they couldn’t agree on anything—even the activities they did during the honeymoon.”

  “They were both faking who they were during their courtship,” Chad interrupts, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Stay on the other side of the fence,” I warn him.

  “I have a few thoughts,” he says. “I might be able to save your client a few visits.”

  I laugh and stop recording. Then, I stare at him and ask, “Do you want to come over?”

  He shrugs. “Only if you want me to.”

  We haven’t spoken much since my date with Robert. It has a lot to do with all the information I gathered from that night, and nothing to do with the attraction between us. Well, maybe it has a lot to do with that too. I can only handle one platonic relationship at a time, and Lang is enough for now.

  Dating Chad would be like dating Ian, Thomas, and maybe, the rest of the losers I’ve been with rolled into one person. No, thank you. I’m working to keep myself away from men like them.

  “Chad,” I greet him, when I open the forbidden door.

  “Persephone.”

  I’m not sure if it’s the way he says it or the memory of the last time we were this close, but I finally ask him, “Why did Thomas call you Chadwick?”

  He grins. “That’s my last name.”

  “You’re Chad,” I correct him. “Your twin brother is…”

  I swear, I want to hit my forehead and say, ‘Duh,’ but I don’t.

  “It’s a stupid nickname,” he says. “We were the Chadwick twins, but then Nate was always getting us in trouble. Our neighbors used to say he was wicked, so we became Chad and Wick. When they called us that, it wasn’t endearing. I actually dislike it when people call me that.”

  “But Sheila and Clyde always—”

  “Because they don’t like us,” he explains. “At this point, we don’t even bother correcting them—or anyone.”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize.

  “It’s not your fault,” he declares. “And, really, I don’t give a fucking shit. Now, let’s record… Wait, it’s Tuesday. Why are you changing the recording day?”

  “I’m trying to manage my time wisely,” I explain. “If I record most of it today, get the calls tomorrow and spend a couple of hours editing, I shouldn’t be scrambling to upload it on time.”

  He nods, as if understanding. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just did a live show?”

  “That needs a lot of infrastructure,” I state. “Maybe in a couple of years.”

  “Did you get your royalty check?” he asks.

  “She’s not stealing from me,” I say. More like I think she isn’t, because Nyx is working on verifying that. “But thank you for worrying about me.”

  “They like to scam people. Even those closest to them.”

  “I understand, and we are looking into everything. Just to make sure it’s a harmless charge for something they get for free.”

  “It’s not fair,” he states, then frowns. “Is it legal to discuss your client’s problems?”

  I chuckle and roll my eyes. “I can only discuss cases of clients who have signed a waiver. You think I would put my license in jeopardy?

  “Ready to do the show?”

  He nods, and we march to the balcony.

  “You know,” I say, while taking a seat, “I like that you set up this place so that the noise from the streets stays out, but maybe you should get a divider that sound proofs your side from mine.”

  He chuckles. “The point of this setting is so that my brother and I could interact easily. If I had known that you’d be using this place…”

  “You’d have soundproofed it, so you wouldn’t have to listen to me?”

  He nods and smirks.

  “Liar. You would be bored without me.”

  “No, I’ve been doing well without you for the past couple of weeks. I was wondering if you ghosted me.”

  “I’m sure you noticed that I was out of the house for the most part.”

  He looks at me and shrugs.

  “Callie is having issues, and she doesn’t want to speak to any of us, so we’ve been trying to set up interventions, but it’s almost impossible,” I explain the gist of the issue.

  The long story involves her wanting to move to another state because she’s done with her hovering family, and my parents are trying to prevent it. Callie is the baby. She’s never been away from them. In my opinion, they should let her be, and maybe when she comes back, she’ll be a grown up—or something.

  “Ready to record?” I ask and press the button.

  “So, my neighbor from hell swears that this couple stayed in courtship mode up until they said I do.”

  “Affirmative,” Chad agrees. “It’s a typical case of pretend personality gone wrong. They liked what the other was showing, and in a way, they were perfect, so they got hitched.”

  “I understand that people try to show their best side when they start dating, but I doubt you can keep it up.”

  “Plenty of people do, and they believe their own lie. In this case, they were capable of keeping the appearance until they had to live together, and then it became daunting. Maybe one of the
m knew that they were dating the wrong person but wasn’t bold enough to accept it,” he continues.

  “So, you think they were wrong for each other from the beginning.” I state.

  “They were, and they should’ve stopped being perfect sooner,” he pauses. “Nobody is perfect. If you don’t like that person, then you break up. The truth is that you aren’t going to get it right the first time. Dating is like testing a car. You drive it along the highway, the quiet neighborhood, the busy streets … if you feel like it isn’t right, but you want to keep testing, you talk to the dealership and ask for more time, while also discussing what you don’t like about the car.”

  “That’s a very insightful way to describe a relationship,” I say with a hint of sarcasm. “So romantic.”

  “It’s not romantic. It’s practical,” he argues. “I have this friend who lived with a guy for … I think almost a year. The asshole broke up with her because she’s successful, and he wasn’t at the time.”

  I gasp, and when I’m about to turn off the recording, he holds my hand and that gesture sends tingles up and down my arm. I pull it away and let him speak, while I try to fight the heat that’s creeping up my cheeks.

  “What’s the point in bringing up this friend?” I try to concentrate on the show, the conversation, but not my failed relationship with Thomas.

  “I’m not sure why they moved in together in the first place,” he states, and the answer is simple. I thought I was in love, and that man can tangle you with his words easily. I was young and impressionable. “But this is a perfect example of test driving your relationship. You try to figure out if there’s a possibility of something more.”

  I glare at him, not impressed that he brought up my relationship with Thomas.

  “When you spend twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week with one person, things get real. There’s no way that you can fake waking up at five in the fucking morning to exercise. Or that you talk all day without stopping,” he continues. “Obviously, she figured out that the guy was a loser. My advice is be yourself.”

  “Always?”

  He nods.

  “Well, that explains what went wrong, but how is she going to move on? Even when things didn’t work out, the fact that she lost the man she thought would be her companion for the rest of her life is gone.”

  “She lost a fantasy, not the guy,” he answers. “Was she even honest with him?”

  I shrug, but the answer is no.

  She was trying to be the woman her husband wanted as a wife. He is on point about their courtship, and I’m impressed how Chad just explained it in a few easy words. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s reading my books or my blog. I glance at him suspiciously, but I don’t ask him about it.

  “Probably not,” I answer. “Sometimes, it is hard to tell the guy you are going out with who you are and what you do. What if he doesn’t accept you?”

  “Then he’s not the man for you,” he answers with a straight face. “You can’t choose your family, but you can choose who you share your life with.”

  We stare at each other, and for one moment, I wonder how much of himself he hides from me. I bet everything. The little glimpses that I get from him make my entire body and my heart react in a way I never have reacted before. He makes me want to reach out for his hand and let the zing he gives me surge through my entire body. I wouldn’t mind leaning closer, so our mouths can meet effortlessly.

  My mind doesn’t stop there. It begins to ponder what it’d be like to convince him that there could be more to life than hookups. The sad truth hits me, too soon, when he says, “You also need to be aware that not everyone has to be part of a couple. Persy says it right. Happy is You.”

  It hits me like a gust wind in the middle of a blizzard. He’s not the kind of man I want to date. I have to accept him and not try to fix him so we can be together.

  Why can’t I fall for the right guy?

  Twenty-Four

  Him

  Thursday, July 9th

  I enjoy spending time with my brother—except when he makes me attend an event or some fundraiser.

  Maybe I’m being harsh. Some fundraisers are fine, but others tend to borderline into ridicule. Like galas. Who spends that much money on food, ballrooms, and party favors so they can get money for a charity? It doesn’t make sense.

  If I had to pick an event to be a part of, I would choose a marathon. Going to hospitals, distributing backpacks with toys, books, and other activities for the sick children isn’t bad. I actually enjoy it. At least I was until I realized that my next-door neighbor is here, too.

  Persephone is with a man almost as tall as me, walking toward the elevator.

  “Look, hottie next door is here,” Nate says.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I warn him.

  She looks at me and then at Nate, nods politely, before continuing to walk, without saying a word.

  What the fuck?

  “Low burn,” Nate says.

  “Are you fifteen?”

  “No, but she literally ignored you,” he states the obvious.

  She did, and I don’t understand as to why she’s giving me the cold shoulder treatment. Is she pissed at me because I brought up her relationship with Thomas?

  No, she’s pretty vocal about what upsets her. She would’ve told me right when I was doing it. But when did she start dating?

  “Persephone?” I call out, but when she and the other guy turn around, I realize this woman is an inch or two taller, and her hair is slightly different.

  Definitely not my Persy. Not that she’s mine … at all.

  “I think you are confusing me with someone else,” the woman answers casually, and I swear the voice is so close to her sister’s, but Persephone’s sweetness is missing.

  “No … I mean, yes. I did confuse you for a second. Sorry, she never told me you two looked so much alike, Nyx,” I say, extending my hand. “Ford.”

  She frowns. “Sorry, she’s never mentioned you.”

  “You know me as Neighbor from Hell—or Chad.”

  She grins. “Of course, I’ve heard about you, but she never…” She moves her lips from one side to the other and grins. “You aren’t what I expected.”

  “I’m sure she described me as an old grumpy guy,” I joke.

  Nyx turns her attention to the guy next to her. “This is Eros. Eros, this is the guy Persy complains about all the time.”

  He looks at me amused and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, man.”

  I’m taken aback by his reaction. Honestly, I was expecting him to warn me off his sister or something, but he doesn’t even bother.

  “Is Persephone okay?”

  “Yeah,” Nyx answers. “We are here to deliver some stuff. As my sister likes to say, I do her dirty work. We just want to clear what we brought by the administration before we dropped it off. What about you?”

  My brother would give her the long answer. He’d explain with detail about our outreach programs and charities. He would add how we try to help as much as we can, even when we should be at the office working.

  All true, but I hate to tell people what we do. We learned a lot while growing up. Even though our father punished us for breaking shit around the house, he actually did us a favor. He sent us to work with people who knew more about the world than our father.

  We learned the value of money and how it can help more than yourself. We donate our time and our resources. Nate likes to show people he cares about the world, while I prefer to stay behind closed doors. He’s the loud one of the two of us, and for me, that is really the best way to live. And, even though I’d like to get to know Persephone’s brother and sister, I give a brief, vague reply and walk away after waving goodbye. If my brother meets them, he’s going to make a fucking deal out of himself.

  So far, I’ve been able to keep Persephone in the dark. It’s obvious that she hasn’t put two and two together. She has too much on her plate to give a shit about her neighbor, but I�
��m pretty sure that her brother and sister might connect the dots.

  Their sister might have seventy-five million followers on social media, but I have the fucking world looking for me, and one picture might ruin my sanctuary. I refuse to move again. People hounding me to get interviews, to become my friends so I would invest in their companies, or… I just don’t want that life back. I feel for Persephone because she has millions of people who know too much about her, and in a way, I think she’s lonelier than I am.

  “What was that?” Nate asks, when I join him.

  “Nothing,” I tell him.

  “So, hottie has a boyfriend,” he concludes.

  I could tell him that Persephone isn’t here, and she has a sister. Or that the guy is Eros, her brother. He doesn’t have to be involved with any of them. In fact, the further he is away from Persy and her family, the better.

  “Is that why she ignored you?”

  “Nate, I love you man, but I swear you are annoying the fuck out of me, and it’s not even noon.”

  He glares at me. “You got to get laid, man. Try her,” he suggests. “I would do her if you weren’t about to kill me just for looking at her.”

  Maybe this is why I can deal with Persephone—or why I want to run away from her sometimes. Like Nathaniel, she can’t be silent for long.

  “Nate,” I warn him.

  “You like her, admit it,” he insists. “It’s okay to accept it and embrace it.”

  “Let’s drop this shit and get this day over with,” I conclude, because Persephone isn’t up for discussion.

  What I do is nothing that any other man in my position would do. I don’t take credit for any of it—unlike my brother. We are complete opposites, and yet, we work well together. Dad always says that the only thing he did well with my mother was us, even though we drove him crazy while we were growing up.

  Does that mean he is proud of us? Who knows, really. We don’t have those kinds of discussions. And here is what I’ve been learning lately about him—without having any contact with him. He expects too much from the people around him. It’s so unfortunate that I never got to learn what really happened between him and my mother.