Let Me Be the One

by Lily Foster

  I practically knocked over a row of chairs to get to Darcy before she left after the ceremony. I was a wreck but she seemed calm and clear-headed. I couldn’t even respond when she told me she loved me and told me she would wait for me. When I didn’t answer she looked disgusted.

  I guess my mission was almost accomplished. I didn’t even know what it was that I was trying to accomplish with her anymore.

  The rest of the guys were hanging out together tonight and then parting ways tomorrow. I was clearing out today. I didn’t feel much like celebrating. I was packing stuff into the car when I saw my mother and Caleb walking towards me. I thought I saw Caleb chuckle a little when he took in my initial reaction. Fucker probably thought I was afraid he was going to hit me. Truth was, I was hoping he would hit me. Instead, he put a box into the trunk and then clapped his hand on my shoulder and looked at me sympathetically. “How are you, man?”

  He was being nice to me too? I couldn’t take it. I just shook my head.

  Brendan ran over when he saw him. “Hi, Caleb.”

  “Whoa, big B. Jeez, you look like you grew half a foot. And Terrence, you too. Good to see you, my man.”

  “Hi, Caleb.”

  Caleb looked back to me. “Hey, where’s the little guy? I thought I’d get to meet him.”

  Terrence piped up, “He’s at home with Aunt Mary.”

  “So you two are uncles, huh? Crazy, right?”

  Brendan nodded, his look serious and strained again. “You could say that.”

  “Gonna be great, though. Imagine in a few years when you’re showing him how to pass the rugby ball.”

  Brendan smirked, “You mean, throw the football?”

  “No, I meant pass the rugby ball.”

  It was the first time I saw Brendan laugh in the past week.

  My mom ushered the boys back in to grab the last of my things.

  “So what’s your plan, Tom?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Do you understand though, Caleb? I mean, I don’t want to hold her back, you know? Being with me…it’s not fair to her.”

  “No, I hear you. You know she deferred her acceptances already though, right? She took a part-time teaching gig at Prep for next year while she figures things out. That was before everything with you went down. You knew that, though.”

  “I still don’t think that changes anything. I want her to be like every other twenty-one year-old. I don’t want to burden her with some other…,” I could barely get the words out, “some other girl’s baby. I want her to be happy.”

  Caleb looked away and nodded. “Yep.” He looked back at me then and said, “Listen Tom, whatever happens between you two…whatever, I have no words of wisdom for you. I just think sometimes when you think about things too much and try to plan it all out you miss out on what’s obvious and right in front of you. But hey, I gotta get back. If you feel like playing some rugby in the fall or if you need anything, I mean it, you’ve got my number, get in touch.” With that he shook my hand and left.

  That night, back home in Connecticut, I lay in my childhood bed. My life had changed so drastically in two weeks. Two weeks ago I had the world by the balls. I was about to graduate, had found the love of my life, and was about to spend three amazing weeks with her traveling through Europe before starting a job I was excited about. Now I felt lost. I was dependent upon my parents and just in over my head.

  I lie in bed staring at the ceiling for hours. I hadn’t slept well since I’d sent Darcy packing. I missed Charlie. I felt like he would have been able to give me some good advice. My thoughts drifted then to that first time Darcy and I were together. How beautiful she was. How much she trusted me. How good holding her and being with her felt. I finally drifted off to sleep thinking about how nice it would feel to have my arms wrapped around her again, her body curled up against mine.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Darcy

  Jenna was a godsend. She helped me corral a ton of information into a solid year’s worth of lesson plans. I was excited about this. I knew this material like the back of my hand and was glad I had something worthwhile to do with my time. I was satisfied with my decision to put off med school. I wasn’t having any regrets.

  Between banging out my course outline, Jenna and I spent a lot of time talking. She consoled me as best she could but I refused to keep going over it again and again. No matter how many times I tried to rationalize Tom’s actions, I couldn’t make sense of it. I found it easier to focus on Jenna. Their plan was for her to teach in Rhode Island for the year and then look for employment in whatever city Dan was transferred to after Cincinnati. She was sad about being separated but they planned to see each other at least twice a month. They were solid. I had no doubt he would propose sometime in the not-so-distant future.

  When I returned to New York, I busied myself in other things as best I could. I knew otherwise I’d be lost. I took summer credits in secondary education at NYU. Summer classes were intense but they were over quickly; four mornings a week for four weeks with everything crammed in. After classes I would head to Luke and Kate’s and scoop up my precious Rebecca, keeping her until dinnertime. Kate was working on a new project with Luke and I know they were both really grateful for the extra help. The truth was that I needed to do it. Without Rebecca to look after, I would have time to do a whole lot of thinking and I just couldn’t handle that. On the weekends I headed to the beach with my family and usually had Jenna, Rene, Kasia, Caitlin, Beth, or a combination of a few of them, down to keep my mind off things.

  I had met with the headmaster the first week of July and I could tell he was totally pleased with what I’d prepared so far. He looked shocked that I had the full year laid out in lesson plans, complete with detailed labs. He told me he was excited for me to join the faculty, as the last teacher covering this section was, according to him, a poor planner who was overwhelmed by the content and the precocity of the students. He expressed faith in me and believed the students were going to “benefit tremendously” now that I was on staff. I hoped so.

  For the first two or three weeks that I was home I held onto the possibility there was still a chance for me and Tom. With every day, week, and then finally a month that passed with not so much as a phone call, though, my hopes diminished. How could he do this to me? I really didn’t know. Not one phone call or text—no communication whatsoever. He never even replied to the text I sent him on his birthday; that crushed me. I spent the better part of that weekend crying. It’s not that I wanted to be on that trip more than I wanted to be with Tom and James—I did not—but I couldn’t help thinking on that day that we should have been in Spain. I would have been surprising Tom with the concert tickets, we would have been so happy. His silence was another slap in the face.

  Even though I put on a happy face for the benefit of my family, the sadness was with me all the time. I wore it like a heavy cloak. It was always the same. I would have a memory of him, like seeing his beautiful face smiling at me mischievously as he stalked across the bed on his hands and knees towards me, the both of us laughing, tangled up in the sheets. The memories felt like being bathed in warm sunshine but then the realization that he was gone would hit me like a blow to the chest. He just didn’t want me enough and he didn’t need me. That was the hard truth.

  The night before I knew Tom was leaving for Chicago, my head screamed, do not text him, but I did anyway. I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment again. So what if he thought I was a loser pining away for him? I was.

  Good luck in Chicago-you’ll be great.

  I have to say, even though I thought there was nothing he could do to surprise me anymore, I was surprised, after basically staring at my phone for four hours, that there was no reply. The next morning, so pathetic, I felt a spark of hope when I saw Tom had answered me back.

  Thx Darcy

  That’s all he wrote.

  If it wasn’t official before, it was now. I had better come to
terms with the fact that this was over. If he wanted to send me a message loud and clear he couldn’t have done it any better. No, “Thanks Darcy, how are you doing?” No, “I miss you.” No, “Let’s get together when I get back.”

  Nothing.

  I was just empty.

  I took his watch off my wrist and turned it over to look at the inscription before putting it in my desk drawer and closing it away. Yes, I had all the time in the world but that no longer felt like a good thing. Now it just seemed like a bland, interminable stretch ahead of me.

  Tom

  The month of June was spent taking James for walks, staying home, changing diapers, staying home, watching baseball with my brothers, staying home. You get the picture. I was in another self-imposed exile.

  Turned down an invite to the Cape with Mac and backed out when Denny wanted to put a side into a rugby tournament in Montauk. Dan invited me down to his family’s shore house twice and I declined both times. Talking to him was tough. He was a harsh reminder of what a mess my life had become. When other people asked how you were doing it was routine, perfunctory. When Dan asked it was more like: What. Are. You. Doing. Asshole? I made the mistake of asking him once how Darcy was. We were on the phone but I imagined a look of disgust on his face as he retorted, “You know how she is. But if you really care, then you should call her yourself. I don’t want to be the go-between for you.”

  I felt like his allegiance had entirely shifted to her and that’s how it should have been. I had lost the right to anyone’s loyalty. During one conversation he added, “Well, your loss is always going to be someone else’s gain.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I saw Chris this weekend. He said Denny and his girlfriend had a great time in Europe. They especially enjoyed your birthday present.” When I didn’t say anything he said, “Yeah, they said seeing Pearl Jam in Madrid was the highlight of the trip. Apparently, you had great seats. Denny said he was practically being pelted with Vedder’s sweat.”

  I thought of her text on my birthday that I didn’t respond to. I wondered if she knew how much it hurt me to cut myself off from her. Some days I literally felt like I was dying. When Dan interrupted my thoughts and asked if I was still there, I said, absentmindedly, “I didn’t know. I hope she didn’t have to eat anything more than the cost of those tickets. She probably hates me by now.”

  “Yeah, right…you know she still loves you, jerkoff. Jenna’s been heading down to her a lot. So have the other girls, for moral support. Like I said, Tom, your loss is going to be someone else’s gain. Jenna said she’s got no shortage of guys sniffing around. Her ex, Matt, has even been dropping by.”

  After that phone call, I started avoiding contact with Dan. He was too close to Darcy and it was too painful talking about her.

  My parents tried to push me into going to Dylan’s Fourth of July bash on Martha’s Vineyard. I hadn’t missed one since junior year in high school. Dylan knew the state I was in but Dylan was Dylan—he didn’t wallow in heartbreak. He just didn’t get it. “I understand where you’re coming from, Tom, I do. And I get it; I can see why you let Darcy go. I’m not suggesting you go looking for a replacement. I’m just saying there will be some hot, willing women there who aren’t looking to be your wife or James’s mommy. Just come and get laid, Tom.” Yeah, I turned down that invite too.

  I was at the airport by six, a little fuzzy-headed. Ben had dragged my sorry ass out last night for a few beers. One thing I loved about Ben at times like this was that there was not much depth there. The boy was loyal to a fault and would do anything for you but he didn’t feel the need to dig into your psyche. If it was Dan with me, on the other hand, he would have spent last night belaboring the Darcy situation.

  Two weeks I’d be away. I was surprised when a feeling of loss washed over me when I thought about how much I’d miss James. It overwhelmed me in a good way. He was the one thing that had made these last few weeks bearable.

  James had started to smile a lot and the look he gave me when I came to get him out of his crib after a nap, well, it could melt your heart. I knew he was in good hands with my parents and the boys. They were hilarious. Brendan and Terrence would argue over who got to feed James his bottle and sometimes I’d walk in on Brendan and he would be snuggling James and talking to him softly. It was pretty cool to watch.

  I had called Mrs. McDaniels and told her I’d be bringing James up for a visit as soon as I got back. She sounded worse every time I spoke to her.

  Sitting there waiting for my flight I went through my emails and saw some texts from the night before. Ben sending me the name of a good bar in Chicago that he couldn’t remember last night. Dan reminding me again about the party at his shore house the weekend after I got back. This had to be like the third reminder. Guess he thought I was planning to blow it off; he knew me well. And then Darcy’s text. This time I replied a lame:

  Thanks Darcy

  Then I went on to type a second message:

  I miss you

  I didn’t hit send on that one. It was like the game I played almost every night. I’d write her an imaginary letter in my head telling her all the things that I needed to say. Telling her how much I missed her. How, every night, I held onto that watch she gave me and rubbed my thumb over the word ‘siempre’, back and forth, so many times that I’m surprised it hadn’t worn off. I begged her to come back to me in this imaginary letter but in reality, I had pushed her away so hard and so abruptly, Darcy had to feel like I’d kicked her to the curb.

  I couldn’t imagine what she thought of me by now. I hadn’t called her once. How could I? I’d just be stringing her along. I knew she probably hated me and although that crushed me, it was for the best.

  Chicago was a combination of what I thought a fraternity rush week would be like with a lot of coursework mixed in. They were definitely preparing you for the work hard/play hard atmosphere of Wall Street.

  There were about thirty in our group with only five females. During the day we were in classes learning a lot of formulas and strategies. Every night there was a dinner with plenty of booze flowing and then more drinks after. You could read personalities right away. A few of the guys were totally serious but most seemed like hard partiers who could still arrive at class at 8 a.m. looking fresh as a daisy. One or two overdid it regularly and were looking like they could barely keep their eyes open in class. I noticed out of the women, four were smart and one was going to get herself into trouble—no impulse control.

  I was definitely enjoying the nights, they were a great group of people, but I was being smart. My father had prepped me thoroughly before leaving. He told me they were really watching these two weeks to see who could handle the atmosphere. Who could party, be socially engaging with clients, but maintain a sense of self-control. I think his exact words were, “Being the life of the party is one thing. Doing lines and hooking up with one of your new female coworkers is another. It’s not 1985 anymore.” Yeah, my dad would lay it out to you straight like that when he felt he needed to.

  You got to know a lot about everyone since you were practically together twenty-four-seven. I didn’t share my new parenthood status with anyone. I knew that would just be a little too weird to share with a bunch of people in their early twenties. And when asked if I had a girlfriend, I heard myself saying no. Besides feeling a deep sense of betrayal when I said that word, it backfired on me, as I sparked the interest of one of the women. She was pretty, they all were. And she was one I put in the smart category on day one. We were grouped together for the last week and I could sense she was just giving off that vibe. I didn’t bite but we were all up especially late the night before we were heading back to New York. I made my way back to my room at around four and she was knocking on the door by four-fifteen. I’m sure if she was sober she would never have made such a move and if I was sober, I would never have answered the door.

  But I did.

  “Tom, I know I shouldn’t be here.”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t.”

  She just smiled at me, came in, and closed the door behind her. Samantha, or Sam as she preferred to be called, had her blouse and skirt in a pool on the floor within a minute. She stood there before me in her heels, bra, and panties. She had long, dark hair. She was tall and curvy…totally fuckable. I didn’t make a move towards her but my body was reacting to the sight of her. Nothing I could do to stop that.

  “Tom, I know what you must be thinking but…we can do this. Just tonight, no strings attached. I just want you.”

  She moved towards me and slowly pressed herself against me as she parted her lips and kissed me. My hands stayed by my side for a minute before they went to her waist and pulled her closer against me. I was lonely and I was horny as hell. I let my hands run over her ass as she kissed me aggressively. I wanted to fuck her, I wanted the release. In that moment, though, something clicked. I knew if I went through with it, then I was no better than the guy I had been before, using and discarding women as I pleased. I loved Darcy. I couldn’t do this. I pulled away, kind of breathless because—shit—this was hard to do. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” She looked shame-faced. “Hey Samantha, it’s on me. You’re beautiful. I’m just in the middle of a lot of things and I can’t do this. It’s not a good idea for you and I’m not someone, coworker or not, that you should be involved with.”

  “Tom, I know guys and you’re a good guy.”

  I shook my head. “No. I come with a big pile o’ baggage, Sam, believe me.”

  She sighed. “I don’t believe that but I guess you’re right. This isn’t a good idea for me.” As she got dressed she asked, “Is my momentary lapse of reason safe with you?”

  I made a motion to zip my lips. “Goodnight, Sam.”

  Good guy my ass. I had failed or nearly failed every barometer of “good guy” that had been thrown my way over the past two years.