by J. Sterling
Lucas shook his head, clearly losing his patience with me. “Just date long-distance forever. I don’t know. You’re making this really difficult.”
“That’s the thing.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m trying to make it really simple. By ending it.”
His mouth twisted into a wry half smile. “I’m telling you she won’t let you. There’s no way that girl will let you walk away that easily. Brace yourself for one hell of a fight, my friend.”
Lucas was right. Jules would absolutely fight me on this, and I wasn’t sure that I’d be strong enough to stand my ground against her. As long as she had a say in things, I was screwed. She’d try to convince me that what we had was worth fighting for, but she wouldn’t be thinking rationally. Jules would base all her decisions on her emotions, on the way she was feeling. I needed to be the voice of reason when it came to us, the logical one.
• • •
The next morning when I went to send her my usual text greeting out of habit, I stopped myself. I needed to put some emotional distance between us, as if the physical miles weren’t enough.
But by the time I made it to the office parking lot, I found myself typing out a good-morning message to her. I couldn’t even go a single day without texting her. I had to try harder.
Tomorrow, I’d try again.
Breaking things off would be the best thing for both of us. It would hurt at first, but it would hurt a hell of a lot more down the road if we kept doing this. Our end was inevitable, so why delay it? One day she’d thank me for making the harder choice when I did instead of stringing her along for months.
The war inside me was coming to a head—shots had been fired and I was going down. There would be no saving me now, no saving us.
I knew what I had to do.
Disappearing Act
Jules
Cal had been a little different the past few days. It wasn’t anything overly noticeable, but I sensed something was off. His tone seemed a little more cautious, and the things he said were the same, as if he was holding back somehow. But instead of asking him about it, I pretended everything was normal.
What was it about Cal’s complex mind that scared me? Was I really that afraid to hear the answers to my questions? And if so, when had I become that kind of woman? Apparently, ever since I’d met Cal. Not only had I opened my heart up to love again more easily than I’d ever thought possible, I was suddenly scared to death to lose it.
That didn’t mean that I liked this newfound side of myself, because I didn’t. It seemed pathetic to avoid asking the tough questions just because I was afraid of the answer. Cal had become such a beacon of light in my life that I hated the idea of it burning out. Somewhere deep inside me, I feared this would end, and I wasn’t ready for it. So I stuck my head in the sand, believing that as long as I denied that anything was wrong, we could keep whatever this was between us going.
Even an e-mail from Robin wanting a play-by-play of Cal’s visit refused to break me. I wrote her back, giving her the CliffsNotes version of our weekend together, which included that I had finally “given it up”—her words, not mine—and avoided all talk of the weirdness between him and me. Robin responded by sending me a video of her doing a happy dance in her bra to a Taylor Swift song.
When I woke up today and there was no text message from him, I worried for only a minute before convincing myself it wasn’t a big deal. I stared at my phone and our last text message exchange, rereading the words from the night before. He was probably just busy, I rationalized as I rolled out of bed to get ready for work. Even though the lack of a morning text was odd, I wasn’t too worried.
• • •
After twenty-four hours without a word from Cal, I became concerned. When texting was your main source of communication, going a full day without it meant that you weren’t talking at all. That would be fine if it was normal for us, but twenty-four hours without talking at all wasn’t our norm. I tried to minimize it, to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it nagged at the back of my mind.
And when I woke up the next morning and there was still no text from him, a shiver of concern crept through me.
What if something happened to him, or worse yet, what if he was dead? Would anyone think to tell me? Did anyone even know I existed? Of course his brother knew, and so did his best friend, but would either Cooper or Lucas think to contact me? Cal could be dead on the side of the road, and I’d never know if no one told me.
Shaking my head to rid myself of my morbid thoughts, I pulled up Facebook and saw that Cal had been active within the last four minutes. I sighed, relieved that he was still alive, but confused that he wasn’t talking to me.
What the hell did that mean?
I tried not to read too much into it as I got ready for work, assuming that I’d hear from him eventually. He’d apologize and explain to me why he’d been silent. I wouldn’t be upset with him, of course, because I understood how time consuming our lives could be. And it wasn’t like the world ended if we didn’t talk every single day.
Right?
Right.
I sent Cal a text asking how he was, and waited for a response. Sometimes it took him a while to get back to me, depending on how his day was going, so it wasn’t unusual when I didn’t get a message back right away.
But when minutes turned into hours, my what-the-hell-is-going-on meter started to ping. I constantly checked my phone for that familiar blue smiley face to appear, but it never did.
I was too nervous to call him, thinking that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if he ignored my call the same way he was ignoring my texts. One after another, I sent a handful of texts that all went unanswered, as well as a single e-mail on social media that still sat there unread.
Agonizing alone in my apartment, I flipped through our time together in my mind, dissecting the last time we had talked. I mentally raked through all our recent past, looking for anything that could give me a clue as to what was happening between us. But nothing made any sense. Nothing added up.
We’d had an amazing time together when he was here. When we spoke on the phone a few days ago, he told me how much he missed me and wanted to see me again. How could things have changed so quickly? In the course of three days, he’d gone from missing me to wanting nothing to do with me?
Why?
What reason could he have?
My heart ached, and I found myself wishing that I’d stayed closed off to love if this was how it was going to make me feel. Feeling nothing was a thousand times better than feeling this pain.
Determined to get an answer, I fired off another text, asking if he was alive. I meant it to be funny and assumed he’d respond right away with some smartass response. But he didn’t.
My next step was to call Tami for reassurance, knowing she’d be home from work by now.
“What’s up?” she chirped.
“Cal’s not talking to me,” I said, pressing my hand to the ache growing in my chest.
“What do you mean? Like you pissed him off or something?”
“No. I don’t know. It’s just he hasn’t called or texted me in three days.”
She turned serious, adopting her lawyer tone. “Have you called or texted him?”
“I haven’t called, but I’ve sent a couple texts.”
“No response?”
“No.”
“When was the last text you sent?”
“A few minutes ago.”
She stayed silent for longer than was comfortable, making me wonder what she was thinking. Finally, she said, “That’s weird, Jules.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
Damn it, I wanted answers. I’d already known that it was strange. But what I didn’t know was why he was doing this. And I wanted someone to tell me.
“I just don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “Did you guys get into a fight?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
I huffed out, �
�I’m pretty sure I’d know if we’d gotten into a fight or not, Tami.”
“Sorry, I just don’t understand.”
“Me either,” I said sadly.
A rustling sound came from the background, and she said firmly, “I’m on my way.”
“I want to be alone.”
“I know you do. Be there in twenty.”
Groaning, I knew that arguing with Tami was no use. She’d just come over anyway whether I wanted her there or not. But the truth was that I needed her, and I was grateful for the times when she was more stubborn than I was.
“Thank you,” I said before hanging up.
• • •
I managed to hold in my emotions long enough for Tami to walk through my front door and take me in her arms. The second she hugged me, I allowed the tears I’d been holding back to fall.
“It’s okay,” she said, wiping my face for me.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” I said, hating how pitiful and whiny I sounded.
She walked into my kitchen, pulled out a bottle of wine, and opened it. With a full glass in each hand, she led me toward the couch in my living room and we settled in.
I took a sip as I waited for her to grill me like I knew she would. The lawyer in her would want as many facts as possible. The woman in her would too.
“Is he still online?”
I nodded. “That’s almost the worst part. Seeing that he was just active minutes ago, but knowing he isn’t responding to me.”
“What do you replay the most?” she asked, and I was lost. I had no clue what she was asking.
“Huh?”
“In your head. What memory do you see the most often?”
“Oh,” I said, thinking it was an odd question. “It’s the little things. Like the way he looked at me when he dropped me off at the airport after we first met. Or the way he introduced me to his family. How excited he got that I’d had his favorite bourbon here for him. Mostly the little reactions, bits of time. They twist me up inside.”
Tami stared at me as I spilled my guts onto the living room floor. I still had no idea why she’d asked that particular question. Maybe she was just curious. Or maybe this was the lawyer in her at work, putting together all the details to create a fuller picture in her mind. I had no idea.
“You said the rest of the weekend here was good, right? Nothing happened on the last day before he left?” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Nothing,” I said, then stopped short. “Except he got upset when he heard that I’d allowed someone else to take my clients out.”
“He got upset?”
“My clients wanted to make an offer on a house, and I told Ashley to go ahead and handle it. Cal didn’t like that.”
Tami smiled. “I can see that.”
“But it can’t be that. We were fine right after he left. He even mentioned wanting to come back out.”
“I don’t know, Jules, but I will tell you this. That boy was into you. He liked you. A lot.”
My heart warmed with her words, the heat slicing through the pain and softening it a little, giving me a reprieve. “You really think so?”
“I saw you two together. I took those pictures that I know are still on your phone. I know you can see the way he looks at you. And vice versa.”
“I thought we were happy. At least, I was. I know he lives across the country and it probably was going to end at some point, but I didn’t care about that right now.”
“Did he know how you felt?” she asked before she took a long sip.
“We never even talked about the distance. It was this thing between us that neither of us ever brought up.”
Tami rolled her eyes. “That’s healthy.”
“I know, but it didn’t seem necessary to focus on it. In reality, we’d just met. What would be the point of talking about something neither of us was going to change?”
“Did you want to change it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It was too new to think about something like that. I have no idea.”
“For as often as you guys talked, you really didn’t communicate well, did you?”
I shrugged. “I guess not. To be honest, I was scared to ask him certain questions.”
“You? Scared?” She all but guffawed at me as she lifted her drink.
“I know, it’s embarrassing. But there was a part of me that was terrified to hear his answers. What if he called things off? I wasn’t ready for that.” I winced as my thoughts sliced through me.
Tami’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Jules. I know this is hard for you.”
“It’s just ironic. I didn’t want to ask him things to scare him away, but he’s still gone.”
“Finish your glass.” She pointed at my wine, and I downed it. “Time for something stronger.”
Leaving me on the couch, she headed back into my kitchen and mixed a concoction that was sure to leave me feeling horrible the next day.
“What is this?”
“A lot of vodka. A splash of cran. You’ll like it.” She laughed.
I took a sip and almost spit it all over my couch. “I need more cran. Seriously, Tami, how can you drink like that?”
“I’m a professional,” she said, her cheeks turning pink already.
“Why are you getting me drunk again?”
“So you’ll feel better.”
I rolled my eyes. “I think it makes it worse.”
Quickly, I reached for my phone. I typed out a text to Cal before Tami could ask me what I was doing, and before I could stop myself.
Jules: Where are you? Why aren’t you talking to me?
Tami’s eyes grew wide. “What did you just do?”
“Nothing,” I lied and put my phone under my butt.
“Do not text him!”
“Too late.” I shrugged as I waited for my ass to vibrate, signaling his response.
“Well,” she huffed, “don’t do it again.”
“How can he just ignore me? I mean it, Tami. How can he get texts from me and just act like I don’t exist?” I groaned and leaned back into the cushions.
“I don’t know. I have no idea what that boy is thinking.”
Feeling vulnerable, I moaned. “This sucks so bad.”
“Are you hurting?” she asked, her tone serious.
“Yes. Very much.”
Although I was hurting—my heart aching, my mind unable to make sense of things—I still held on to the tiniest sliver of hope that Cal would come back, or that this was all some silly misunderstanding. One phone call from Cal could fix all of this, and believing that alleviated some of the pain.
I wanted it to be true. I wanted to believe, because believing he would come back to me was a hell of a lot easier than accepting that he’d walked away without saying a word. How could I accept that when nothing about it made any sort of sense?
“I’m sorry you’re hurting. Do you want me to stay the night?” Tami asked, already knowing the answer.
Needing her near, I nodded. “Thank you.”
“It’s a good thing I keep clothes here,” she said with a smile.
• • •
When the weekend rolled around, Tami refused to let me sulk in peace and insisted we go out to get my mind off of things.
As if that were even possible.
She tried to convince me that the best way to get over a guy was to get under another one, but we both knew that wasn’t my style. At least she’d gotten me to laugh.
As we wandered down Third Street in Santa Monica, I tried to push aside the memories of Cal’s last day here. How had my personal space become littered with thoughts of him? If he wasn’t going to be in my life, then I didn’t want him in my city.
We chose a bar, headed inside, and I grimaced at the giant chalkboard that read Over Fifty Types of Bourbon!
Bourbon.
Two months ago, I most likely would have ignored the sign or not even seen it. Now the word triggered something so deep inside my he
art, I thought it might stop beating. It was so stupid, the way I associated Cal with the liquor, but it was tied to a memory, a minuscule speck of time that had come to represent so much more.
Bourbon had once made me feel happy and brought a smile to my face. Now all it brought me was pain associated with loss, and I never wanted to drink it again.
I hated bourbon.
I hoped it all burned to the fucking ground.
Sorry, Kentucky.
Rolling my eyes, I chose a small two-person table farthest from the bar and sat down.
“We’re eating, right? I’m starving,” Tami said, concern pinching her features.
“Yes, we’re eating. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” She tilted her head, staring at me with aqua-colored eyes today.
“Like you’re afraid I’m going to fall apart at any second.”
“I don’t think that. I’m just still sad for you, is all.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“Let’s drink first, be sad later,” I said with a smile.
Our waiter appeared, and we ordered drinks. When he walked away, I gave Tami my full attention.
“Tell me what’s going on with you. Distract me.”
She waved away my question. “You know there’s nothing going on with me. All work, all the time. And then random guys who mean nothing the rest of the time.”
“I can’t wait to see the guy who knocks you on your ass and steals your heart.”
She gave me a wry look. “To be honest, you’re not making me want that anytime soon.”
“Pretty sure you won’t have a choice in the matter,” I said with a small smile. Tami truly in love was going to be something to see.
“Trust me. I’m aware.”
Our drinks arrived and we toasted each other before downing them way too quickly.
“I need bread,” I warned, “or it will not be a pretty night.”
Tami snorted. “I need more than bread.” She waved our waiter back over, and we ordered food along with our next round of drinks.