Wrong Text, Right Love

by Claudia Burgoa

  Ford meeting my family is going to make him run away or kick me out. They are scary and overwhelming. More like scarily overwhelming. He is an introvert, and my parents are definitely not his kind.

  “He’s helping me with the grill,” Dad explains. “I’m sorry, Son, I forgot your name.”

  “Ford,” he answers, shaking Dad’s hand. “Nice seeing you again, Mr. Brassard.”

  “Call me Octavio,” Dad corrects him. “This is my wife, Edna.”

  “It is so nice to meet you,” Mom says enthusiastically, and runs to hug him.

  “Oh, Mom,” I sigh.

  One of these days she’s going to get in trouble. Not everyone likes to be embraced by a stranger. Thankfully, Ford smiles at her. Simon walks toward him and circles around him, as if staking his claim. I frown because I can see the day when this ungrateful cat packs his toys and moves next door.

  “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Brassard,” Ford says, bending down to pet Simon’s head—when did they become this close? “Persephone.”

  “See, your name should be said with pride.

  “All our children are named after Greek gods,” Dad says.

  “He already knows,” I warn him. “Why are you here, Ford?”

  “To help him with the grill,” he explains.

  “We can figure it out,” I protest. “You should go back to your lair.”

  He chuckles. “I don’t have time to deal with an explosion. The fire department can use a break from you.” He winks at me.

  Mom flinches. I warn him, “Too soon.”

  “He’s our guest, Persephone.”

  “Mom, we’re not supposed to fraternize with him,” I mumble, as they make their way to the balcony.

  “Why not? He seems like a nice person.”

  “Never mind, Mom,” I say exasperated. “I’m going to take a shower. Please, try to behave, at least for the next twenty minutes.”

  I skip washing my hair and use dry shampoo instead. That saves me ten minutes. I use some of the beet coloring Mom gave me last Christmas. It works great for cheeks and lips. Then, I apply some gloss and mascara. Since I’m done taking pictures for today, I put on the spaghetti strap long dress that I bought yesterday.

  “Nyx and Eros are on their way,” Mom announces, as I make my way to the kitchen.

  Ford is peeling potatoes and drinking beer. I assume Dad brought more because the bottle doesn’t look like the ones he used for my Strawberry Lager—which I haven’t tried yet.

  “Nice dress,” Ford mentions giving me a lustful look.

  “Aren’t you going back to your home?” I ask, instead of saying, mixed signals.

  Ford smirks at me. “I finished working early.”

  “What is it that you do?” Mom asks.

  “Programming,” he answers. “I handle my own schedule, and sometimes, I work on Sundays.”

  Dad gives me a glass with what I assume is Strawberry Lager. “I stored the box inside the pantry, so you can drink it at your own pace.”

  “Did you bring beer for everyone else?”

  “As always,” he declares. “Come outside. I have to start grilling the vegetables. The meat should be ready in about thirty minutes.”

  I’m afraid to leave Ford with Mom, but when I look at them, they are chatting animatedly. I feel like I just stepped into the twilight zone, and things get weirder when Nyx and Eros arrive. Eros and Ford are chatting animatedly and then disappear through the forbidden door, heading to his apartment. It’s as if the guy belongs, and the awkward questions and discussions don’t affect him. He actually has an opinion.

  Thirty

  Him

  Monday, August 3rd

  So far, I feel like Persephone and I are connecting. Which I think is what she is looking for in a relationship. I’m not saying this isn’t what I want—I never knew what I wanted until this witty, brilliant, and beautiful woman moved next door to me.

  While I stayed with Nate, what I missed was her voice, her presence. Everyone knows when Persy is around. She makes me feel so many things… She is so maddening. She is impossibly imperfect, in a way that makes her perfect for me. Only me. I just… I’ve never gone from a hook up to the real thing. I’m ashamed to say that I never went on a date until yesterday.

  It’s possible. Just remember that I was the kid with the awkward conversations and the brother who was suave. Nate always got lucky. It also had a lot to do with the fact that I was in college while he was in high school. There was not one college girl who was interested in a shrimp like me. When they began to pay attention to me, I was a jaded prick.

  What can I say? My parents didn’t teach me how to trust, and thank fuck, because too many people would have used me before I turned twenty. But now—now I’m subscribing to Happy is You. Happy is being with her. My life wasn’t empty, but she enriched it. When should I tell her who I am and stop being two people at the same time?

  There’s a bang on the forbidden door.

  “Is Simon on your side?”

  “Maybe?” I answer and get up from my chair to look for the cat. “You can come over to look for him.”

  “He’s trying to hide because we have a V-E-T appointment,” she announces.

  She steps into the apartment through, what she calls, the forbidden door. Persephone smiles at me, and I smirk at her.

  “Hey,” I greet her trying to avoid looking at her because I have the need to kiss her—no, more like an urgency. If I don’t have her soon, I’m going to explode with desire.

  “Are you okay?” She has this devious smile that makes me wonder what she is thinking.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You left in the middle of practice,” she explains. “You didn’t do the peacock.”

  “Yeah, well, it was my first time, and you said I could leave whenever,” I say, instead of explaining that my cock was about to peak through my clothes because watching her makes me hot but being next to her, while she’s bending her sweet body … well, that’s just torture. “Plus, I had already done your Zumba class.”

  “We need to work on your lack of coordination,” she announces, while walking around the house calling to Simon.

  More like we need to work on my attention. It’d be great if I could just concentrate on anything but her body—her.

  “Why do you have a litter box?”

  “Your cat made himself at home. What was I supposed to do?”

  “No wonder he’s here all the time. He thinks he owns the place.” She squeaks, “You have two litter boxes?”

  Should I tell her I have three? My penthouse is bigger than hers. I have two litter boxes downstairs and one upstairs.

  “Do you feed him?”

  “No,” I say, trying to figure out where she is. I can hear her voice, but I can’t see her.

  She’s in the pantry, staring at her cat, who is trying to knock the bag of treats that I have for him.

  “Really, Ford?”

  I shrug, trying not to laugh when I say, “He’s here often. I like to be a good cat host?”

  “Not sure what impresses me more, that you have a set up for Simon or that you can say that you are a good cat host with a straight face.”

  “I’m an impressive man,” I state.

  “This is why he’s always here. You spoil him.” She’s biting her bottom lip, as she stares at me. “You hide the nice guy pretty well, don’t you?”

  “Are we having an argument in front of the child?” I ask, and I can’t help but laugh when she glares at me.

  “I wish I knew who you really are,” she says, taking Simon into her arms. “There’s a lot more that you hide, but why?”

  “Maybe I was you fifteen years ago,” I answer.

  She frowns. “You believed there was someone for you, and she broke your heart?”

  I walk to her and brush her cheek with my lips. “I forget you have romance in that head of yours—all the time.”

  “No, there’s also sex,” she says, with a sultry
voice, but before I can say anything to her, she disappears behind the door, closing it shut. “See you later, Grump.”

  Lang: How was your day?

  Joy: Eventful. My cat had a vet appointment. That went well. I had a therapy session. Not so great.

  Lang: Why?

  Joy: Have I mentioned I’m a certified counselor?

  Lang: Interesting. Have you been analyzing me?

  Joy: No, I’m… Never mind. The thing is that I’m a terrible patient. Just like doctors make the worst patients.

  Lang: Anything I can do?

  Joy: You are part of the problem. She says that maybe I should let go of this fantasy.

  Lang: I’m a fantasy?

  Joy: Technology makes everything so complicated. We have great communication and get along so well. Yet, we don’t know each other, and I don’t know if what I’m feeling is real. Plus, there’s this guy… You and I are only going to happen via text.

  Lang: Us could be very real.

  Joy: No. We can’t even kiss.

  Lang: Well, if I could, I would hold your face, stare into your beautiful eyes, and tell you that we can work things out. I would kiss the tip of your nose, then your eyelids, and finally, I would take your mouth. Our first kiss would be slow and gentle at first, but as my hands slide down your body, my hunger would break the threat of the self-control I’ve been holding onto, and I’ll kiss you hard.

  I don’t read it for any misspellings. I’m worked up, and I pray that she doesn’t need me tonight because, if I sleep with her, I won’t be able to contain myself. She doesn’t answer for a long time, and I break the silence.

  Lang: I can’t apologize for that kiss.

  Joy: I wouldn’t want you to apologize. I’m trying to recover. It was… It is…

  Lang: If I could, I would do it—and maybe I wouldn’t let you go.

  Joy: What’s going on with the woman you are dating?

  Lang: Let’s not talk about her.

  Joy: Have you kissed her?

  Lang: Not yet. I want to do it, so badly.

  Joy: What’s holding you back?

  Lang: Once we kiss, there’s no going back. I won’t want to let her go. Ever.

  Lang: And it scares me to think about what’ll happen after. I’ve never been in that place before. Everyone is afraid of the unknown.

  Joy: Really? Just one kiss will push you to the abyss?

  Lange: Push sounds negative, yet, it’s about right. It’ll push me to a cliff, and we’ll have to learn to fly—together. Though, I’m not sure if doing it will be the right move. What if I lose what we have?

  Joy: Are you afraid of kissing her?

  Lang: Terrified.

  Joy: Why?

  Lang: What if I don’t measure up to her? For the most part, she knows what she wants and is not afraid of anything.

  Joy: Everyone is afraid of something. Some of us are better at hiding our fears.

  Lang: What are you afraid of?

  Joy: That no one will ever love me. People get tired of me easily. I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with me. My new therapist—who I might fire—said I’m not being objective. I guess my second biggest fear is to fall in love and be left behind.

  Lang: You’ve never fallen in love before?

  Joy: Yes, but not irrevocable in love. I feel like I could with the right guy. Like I’m so close, but I don’t want to because what if I’m left behind? It hurts when someone says, ‘You’re fun, but you can’t possibly believe that you are someone I can take seriously.’

  Lang: You’ve dated losers.

  Joy: That’s what … that’s what my friend keeps telling me.

  Lang: Would you give ME a chance?

  Joy: What do you mean?

  Lang: If you knew who I really am, would you see past that person?

  Joy: I’d ask the same.

  Lang: There’s nothing wrong with you.

  Joy: The guy next door would beg to differ.

  Lang: Enlighten me. What is wrong with you?

  Joy: I’m loud, colorful, and there’s more, but I can’t tell you. The thing I like about you is that I can be myself, and you don’t judge me for what I do.

  Lang: I could say the same. What if I’m someone famous?

  Joy: Are you?

  Lang: I was, and now I hide.

  Joy: I don’t want to hide, but I want to recover the privacy I used to have before.

  Lang: Because of this guy or any guy that you might want to date?

  Joy: No, because of me. I made a few mistakes in the past few years. I let things get out of control. More like I let a person make some decisions for me, and now, I discovered she’s been stealing from me. I’m also realizing all the stuff I accepted—and I didn’t want to do—is because I let her take charge of my life and career.

  Lang: How can I help?

  Joy: It’s something I have to figure out on my own—with some help from my lawyer. But I feel like I’m already damaged goods.

  Lang: This is why you don’t want to sext? You think I’m going to think less of you.

  Joy: No, that’s different. I don’t have sex with a guy right away. I’m sure I explained it to you before. There has to be a connection. I need the connection before things can go further.

  Lang: It’s like me with the kiss.

  Joy: Probably. Though, with the kiss, you are promising HER (I might be jealous of her). I would be gone right in that moment.

  Lang: Sometimes, it can be just an insignificant touch. A small thing can make your heartbeat run wildly.

  Joy: Chatting with you tonight was a bad idea.

  Lang: Why?

  Joy: You confuse me. I was supposed to tell you that this was over.

  Lang: But it’ll never be over.

  Joy: How are we supposed to live this torrid affair where I want to read your poetry and imagine your dirty words touching me?

  Lang: Trust me.

  Joy: Our circle of trust is too small and flimsy. That happened when you ghosted me.

  Lang: It was a misunderstanding. I was afraid that... I couldn’t trust you back then.

  Joy: I feel like that has a double meaning. Yet, you want me to trust you.

  Lang: Let’s meet, and if after you see me, you think we can’t get past that moment, then I promise to stop texting you.

  Joy: We are so perfect like this. Why ruin it?

  Lang: I thought you wanted to stop living a perfect life where you follow a script.

  Joy: :stares:

  Lang: You can keep living a lie for the rest of your life, or step into an imperfect world where things are messy and feelings flutter around you all the time. I thought that’s how you wanted to live your life. Loving and being loved. Fighting and sometimes even hating each other, but, at the end of the day, falling back in love all over again.

  Joy: If I say I trust you…

  Lang: Promise me that you’ll give me a chance to explain, that you’ll understand.

  Joy: Okay, I’ll try to be understanding. What’s next?

  Lang: We stop this for now. Find your answers. Fix the way you want to write your future, and then, we’ll meet again.

  Joy: Are you going to choose her?

  Lang: Choose yourself first. Find your happy. Be … your happy.

  Ford: Get me a new phone number.

  Nate: What did you do?

  Ford: Nothing. I just need to have a new temporary number so I can turn this one off.

  Nate: Fine. I won’t ask.

  Thirty-One

  Her

  To: S. Daniels

  From: P. Brassard

  Tuesday, August 3rd

  Subject: Lawsuit

  Sheila,

  My lawyer’s assistant confirmed that you received the letter firing you as my agent, effective August 1st, along with a lawsuit. I’ve been calling you since yesterday, but my calls go to voicemail. It would be nice if you could at least pick up the phone, I would appreciate it. The last thing I want is to end our friends
hip of more than twenty years like this.

  Not that you care much about my feelings or what it meant for us to be friends. To say that I’m hurt is an understatement. You’re my oldest friend. I trusted you with my career, and you’ve been stealing from me—for years. Selling me services that were either provided to me for free so I’d sponsor them, or given to you as a favor.

  Twenty percent of my earnings is a pretty generous cut—and the standard in most industries. Still, I can’t believe you were taking half of my earnings and also taking twenty percent of what you sent on top of it. If you needed more, you could’ve asked. Stealing is not alright.

  Please call me. I’m looking for closure.

  Persy

  To: P. Brassard

  From: S. Daniels

  Tuesday, August 3rd

  Subject: (Re) Lawsuit

  Please refrain from contacting me. As you stated in your previous email, I no longer work for you. Any further communication between us will have to go through my legal team.

  Best,

  Sheila Daniels

  To: S. Daniels

  From: P. Brassard

  Cc: N. Brassard

  Tuesday, August 4th

  Subject: Lawsuit

  Please be advised that I’m copying my lawyer. I need at least an apology for everything you stole. Sending me a cold message telling me that I shouldn’t contact you just shows me how little you care about our friendship. The more I go through the emails and contracts you pushed, the more I realized that you never looked out for me.

  Percy

  Podcast Week 10 Season 3

  Tuesday, August 4th

  “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.