Yours Truly

by Jen Meyers

  He’d actually used those words. Explore his options. Can you even believe that?

  Even worse, he’d said it the night before he left. The night before I thought we were BOTH leaving. I mean, I’d just graduated, so I’d assumed we were going together. I’d even packed up all my stuff and loaded it into my car.

  You can understand why his news hadn’t gone over well.

  The only bright point had been that I hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to tell my parents. For one, I knew they’d be heartbroken for me to move so far away. And even though we’d been together for my entire senior year, I’d never introduced him to them.

  Maybe it was because The Girls were not his biggest fans—to put it mildly. I mean, at first they’d liked him just fine. But over time, they’d liked him less and less. I’d been worried my parents would feel the same way. What would I have done if my parents hated the love of my life?

  He’d at least saved me from that.

  But it’s not like that made me feel any better.

  I’d been so stunned that I didn’t get out of bed for a week and a half, drowning in devastation and self-pity. Not knowing where I was going to go, what I was going to do, how I was going to live through this. The Girls had rallied around me, and bit by bit I’d swum to the surface and started to breathe again.

  And then I started to write. Feverishly. Madly.

  I scribbled for days, getting down everything that I felt, spewing my anger and brokenness all over the page.

  What I ended up with was my very first “Yours Truly” column, though I didn’t know it at the time. Lucky coaxed me into coming to New York with her, then set me up with interviews at all the magazines, and helped me throw together an impromptu portfolio with this piece about Dan on top.

  I’d gotten an offer from Du Jour on the spot with a request that they run the article in the next issue. And they’d wanted me to write more just like it. Help women everywhere.

  Getting the piece published could have been enough for me, but I wanted to be sure Dan saw it. So I sent him a copy. And then I sent copies to the residents at the Mayo Clinic and the entire nursing staff. Basically anyone and everyone that Dan might possibly come into contact with.

  And from the look on his face right now as he sat across the desk from me and my parents, THAT hadn’t gone over well with him.

  He stared at me for a moment, then turned and forced a tight smile at my dad. “I’m sorry you’ve come all this way, Mr. Truly, but after looking at your records, we can’t—”

  “What?!” I said. “You’re refusing to help my father because of me? You can’t do that, Dan. That’s illegal.”

  “Willow!” my mom said, then shot a worried smile at Dan. “She’s not usually like this…though I suppose you already know that since you… Wait. You’re Dan?”

  My dad sat up straighter. “Dan, the guy who hurt my Willow?”

  Fury and indignation formed a dangerous cocktail in my blood, and I stood up, placed my hands on his desk and leaned toward him. I was not the doormat I’d once been, and I’d be damned if he was going to wipe his feet on me again.

  “You think what happened last time was bad?” I said. “You do this, Dan, and you can bet I will make the biggest stink ever. I have connections now. I know LOTS of people. I can and will make your life a living hell.” I was practically breathing fire. “You know what else? I should be thanking you for what you did three years ago because you are an ASSHOLE. And you saved me from you. I take back what I said about you. Not that every word wasn’t true. It was, but you did me a huge favor by dumping me. I can’t believe I ever missed you. Clearly, there was nothing to miss.”

  “Willow,” he said calmly, folding his hands into his lap. “We’re not refusing to treat him. Dr. Stidham and I conferred this morning and she came to the conclusion that the procedure is not quite right for him. Her colleague Dr. Estevez would be a better fit. Unfortunately, she’s booked for months. You’d be lucky to get an appointment with her before Thanksgiving, and he needs treatment sooner. Dr. Stidham can recommend someone excellent in Boston. I’ve already contacted his office so you can set up an appointment right away.” He raised his eyebrows at me as if to say See? I’m an adult, and I wanted to smack that smug look off his too-handsome face.

  I also kinda wanted a gap to open up in the floor and swallow me whole.

  Not sure which I wanted more.

  I looked at his face again. The smack. I definitely wanted the smack more.

  “Oh,” I said, clearing my throat and sitting down again, my face flaming for the second time in five minutes. “Well, then that’s fine. Never mind about…all that other stuff.”

  As we made our way out of the hospital, my parents didn’t say anything, just held onto each other like a lifeline. Every time they looked at me, they’d put on a cheery smile, but it never reached their eyes.

  It was killing me just a little bit.

  And something about Dan was nagging at me, pricking my thoughts, changing how I saw what had happened between us. It wasn’t as black and white as it had felt at the time. It felt gray now. I hadn’t thought about it until today, but he really HAD done me a favor by leaving me behind, and instead of holding a grudge against him, I should have been doing a happy dance that I’d been set free.

  Lines starting forming in my mind, and I pulled out my phone, typing furiously to get them all down.

  Sometimes the thing you want the least, turns out to be the thing you need the most. And what felt like the worst catastrophe of your love life, was, in reality, the luckiest day of it because it got you to where you are today. The thing about hindsight is that you’re finally able to see clearly that he wasn’t the right guy for you, no matter how much you’d convinced yourself he was.

  And instead of still being hurt or mad about what happened, you realize you should be thanking your lucky stars.

  And so you do.

  Then I tapped out a text to The Girls.

  ME: One word: Dr. Heartworm.

  BLISS: That’s two words. And also…HOLY SHIT.

  LUCKY: One word: NO. WAY.

  EVER: Two words: SERIOUSLY?

  SUMMER: You guys suck at math. And Dr. Heartworm…well, he just sucks.

  HARMONY: You saw him?

  ME: He was the cardiologist my dad saw today.

  HARMONY: That’s so nice it was someone you knew!

  LUCKY: One word, Harmony: DR. HEARTWORM.

  HARMONY: Oh…right. Still.

  EVER: Drinks? Tonight? Because we NEED to hear this.

  ME: Can’t. Parents here one more night. And then a date/work the next. Saturday? Summer and Bliss…you guys are still around this weekend, right?

  BLISS: Yup.

  HARMONY: Oh! Come take my class Saturday morning, then we’ll all go out for breakfast.

  ME: Perfect.

  Our plans set, I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. A cab pulled up at that moment, and my dad opened the door to usher me and my mom in. I paused before I got in the car, standing face to face with him, staring into hazel eyes that looked just like mine.

  “It’ll be okay, Willowbee,” he said. “It always is.”

  Is it? I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

  I ducked into the back seat, sliding all the way over to the door to make room for my parents, and then watched the city fly by as we sped back downtown toward my apartment.

  All I could think was what if he was wrong? Because sometimes it wasn’t okay, sometimes things didn’t work out. And I just had to hope this was not one of those times.

  nine

  The night breezed over my skin, cooling me, calming me, filling me with much-needed space. In this city of millions, I sometimes felt overwhelmed by the constant presence of people everywhere I went, everywhere I looked. I mean, I loved this city—its energy, its diversity, its vastness of possibility. But all of those combined to create this constant noise that got to be too much, and I cra
ved silence and space.

  Which is what I got up on the roof.

  I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to the dark skies above.

  My parents were tucked in for the night, worn out from this emotional day—their hopes up before the appointment, and now dashed. I wasn’t sure who was more affected—my dad or my mom. Seeing the look on my mom’s face when Dan had passed them off—god, it killed me. Dad was her world. It’s almost as if one of them couldn’t exist without the other.

  Feeling that way about someone scared the shit out of me because what if you lost them?

  What if I lost him?

  My dad tired too easily. So many things wore him out—simple stuff that he used to be able to do. Climbing the one flight of stairs up to my apartment, he was out of breath halfway through and had to stop to rest.

  Honestly, I was more than a little alarmed watching him huffing and puffing on the middle landing as if he’d just run to the top of the Empire State building. I’d had no idea it was that bad, and I’d started going over everything I used to know about CPR—surprisingly little—brushing up mentally just in case I needed to use it.

  God, please don’t make me use it.

  My mom had mentioned he got winded quickly, but seeing it in person was different. Now I deeply understood my parents’ disappointment. I’d seen the cocktail of prescriptions he was already taking, and they didn’t seem to be doing much.

  Or maybe they were. And wasn’t THAT an even scarier thought?

  Tears welled up and my throat got tight. I couldn’t lose my dad. He and my mom had been the only constants in my life, and I was more than just a little attached to them. They were my only family, and once I lost them I was going to be completely, one-hundred-percent alone.

  I wasn’t ready for this. And seeing my dad today struggling…it was scaring the bejeezus out of me.

  THIS. This was another reason I refused to fall in love with anyone. It had devastated me when I lost Dan, but that was nothing to what I was feeling at the mere thought of losing my father.

  And if I were to lose the love of my life, whoever he may be?

  No. I just didn’t have it in me to keep losing people.

  Because that’s what Life does to you. It gives you people to love, then it takes them away. One by one. It doesn’t care how long you’ve loved someone, it doesn’t care that the pain of losing them is destroying you.

  Life doesn’t care at all.

  I figured that if I didn’t care either—if I kept the circle of people I truly loved small and didn’t let any new members in—then there’d be less to lose.

  It was self-preservation. At least, that’s what I was calling it.

  “Will? You up here?”

  The door opened and Josh wandered out on the roof, two beer bottles clinking gently together in one hand.

  “Over here.” I brushed the tears away quickly, hoping the darkness would hide what I couldn’t just wipe off my face. I took a deep, shuddering breath and smiled, willing myself back to equilibrium.

  He came over, plunked himself down into the empty chair next to me, and handed over a bottle. Wordlessly, we clinked them together and then drank.

  The cold brew tasted like the night air—cool, crisp, and fresh.

  “What’s up?”

  I sighed. “What makes you think something’s up?”

  “Well, I didn’t get called for fake-boyfriend duty tonight, your apartment sounds like it’s gone to sleep, and you’re up here hiding.”

  “Fake fiancé,” I said, “and I’m not hiding. Just thinking.” I turned to him. “And have I thanked you enough yet? Because you were really wonderful last night. Your proposal story…oh my god.”

  “You liked that, huh?”

  “It was perfect. I WOULD have said yes to that, and I don’t even want to get married.”

  He stopped and turned to me, surprise evident on his face. “You don’t? Really?”

  “Really.”

  “But you write romance novels. How can someone who writes one Happily Ever After after another NOT want her own?”

  “Because there ARE no Happily Ever Afters. Not in real life.” I stood up, and went to lean on the edge of the roof so I could look out over the city. And—maybe—get away from his question. “It’s all just fiction.”

  “Your parents have theirs.” His arm rubbed against mine as he settled himself beside me and leaned on his elbows.

  “Except my dad’s not doing well, and if he dies…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. My throat closed and I pressed my eyes shut to stop the stinging tears. “That’s not exactly a Happily Ever After, you know?”

  Josh’s warm hand closed over my arm. “Will…”

  “He’s really sick, Josh. And the doc today…” Dr. Heartworm popped up in my mind again, and I laughed. “God, it was the guy who broke my heart. Can you believe that?”

  I told him the whole story, including our sordid breakup and my very public response. By the end of it we were both laughing, and I had tears running down my face again. But they were the good kind this time.

  “Holy shit,” he said, “remind me to never break your heart.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “You’ll never get the chance. No one will. I learned that lesson already.”

  “Well…THAT’s a healthy way to live.”

  “I don’t see you risking YOUR heart.” I said, feeling a sudden burst of irritation. How dare he judge me given the revolving door that was his love life? “Seriously? You’re dating Stacie because you think she might be The One? The girl who thinks Jersey is a land far, far away?”

  “I’m WILLING to risk my heart,” he said. “For the right girl, when she’s ready. In the meantime, yes, I’m having a little fun. No harm in that.”

  “There’s no such thing as the right person.”

  “Sure there is. And sometimes they’re even right under your nose.”

  I glanced over at him and he was looking at me.

  Like LOOKING looking.

  And suddenly I was very aware of the feel of his arm against mine, from elbow to shoulder. His warmth spread through me in a way it never had before.

  His eyes gazed into mine then burned a trail down my face to smolder on my lips. How was that even possible? That I could feel his gaze like that. It was possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced, and let me tell you, I’ve experienced a LOT of sexy things.

  My breath hitched and I let my eyes focus on his mouth.

  He had a really fantastic set of lips. Square-ish and a little on the thinner side, they looked like they’d feel REALLY good against mine. And against the rest of my—

  NO. This was Josh. I couldn’t go there with him. It just wasn’t…

  But he was leaning toward me now, and I felt as if I was being pulled closer by some invisible, irresistible force…and one little kiss couldn’t hurt. Could it?

  The night pressed in on us, urging us together, and all sounds ceased. The world went silent. There was nothing but Josh. The scent of him surrounded me so that I was breathing him in, our lips getting closer and closer, my heart beating faster and faster.

  And then the door to the roof creaked open behind us.

  I jumped away from him, my heart hammering, feeling like I’d been caught. My face flamed red, and I couldn’t look at him.

  What the hell was that?

  “Willow, honey?” my mom’s voice called from the stairwell. “Sweetheart, there’s…uh…a problem in your apartment.”

  ten

  As soon as I opened my door, I stopped dead.

  Water poured from a gaping hole in the ceiling of my living room. Pieces of plaster dropped like cookie crumbs, scattering all over. And all I could do was stand there gawking at it in abject horror.

  My parents were scrambling to find pots and pans to catch the water, which was ridiculous because there was already an inch of it on the floor. I didn’t own enough pots—hell, there wasn’t enough cookware
in the city to catch the amount of water gushing out of my ceiling.

  Josh had immediately jumped into action as well, whipping out his phone to dial the super as he scrambled to help my mom and dad.

  At least some of us had their thinking caps on.

  But not me. I just stood there.

  Frozen.

  Watching everything I owned—my whole life contained in one little space—get typhooned.

  Wondering what the hell I was going to do.

  Telling myself: Breathe, Will. Just breathe. I could figure this out.

  Maybe.

  After what felt like forever, the water finally slowed to a trickle. A few minutes later the super came racing up the stairs, apologizing, making sure everyone was okay.

  Josh pulled on my arm, and I splashed out into the hall after him. “I told your parents to grab their stuff and bring it over to my place,” he said. “You guys are staying with me.”

  I nodded even though I had no idea what he’d just said. I mean, I’d heard sounds coming out of his mouth, but my brain wasn’t capable of processing anything. It was still too busy silently freaking out over the water. I stared back into the apocalypse in my apartment.

  “Will,” he said, and when I didn’t respond, he said it again. “WILL.” I turned to him, trying to hear his words, willing myself to make sense of what was happening. “Come on. There’s nothing you can do about this tonight.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I pulled out my phone. “I gotta call a hotel.”

  “You’re staying with me. Your mom already made up the pull-out bed.”