by Diane Barnes
“You’ve been checking that thing all day.”
It’s true. I’ve convinced myself that there is a reason Ben left, and he’ll call to explain. “Bad habit.”
“It’s rude,” my mother says.
She’s right. They came all this way to see me, and I’m paying more attention to an electronic device than them. “Sorry.”
She pushes the plate of goat cheese croquette toward me. “Have you heard anything from Nico?”
I sip on my sangria before responding. “He came by a couple of weeks ago. He’s been calling too, but I don’t want to listen to anything he has to say.”
“You might want to hear him out,” my father says.
Clearly he has no idea that I’ve been a victim of radio bullying over the last few months. “We never told you kids this, but your mother got a case of cold feet a few weeks before our wedding.”
I drop my fork and turn to my mother. “You did?”
Her cheeks turn red and she glares at my father. “Andrew,” she snaps.
“I’m just saying it happens. At this point, you’ve invested six years; what’s another few minutes to hear what he has to say? If I hadn’t heard your mother out, you wouldn’t be here.”
That’s the last type of advice I expected from my father.
* * *
By the time I get home from dropping off my parents at the airport on Sunday evening, I still haven’t heard from Ben. I think about calling him, but decide that I will not humiliate myself chasing after him, the way I did Nico.
Right before I go to bed, my phone rings. It’s not Ben, though. It’s Nico. Instead of ignoring his call as I have for the past three weeks, I decide to talk to him.
He sounds stunned that I answered. “You picked up.”
“You caught me at a weak moment.” I lie down on my bed, looking up at the stars he pasted there.
“I’m sorry I’ve been pestering you,” Nico says. “But we really need to talk.”
I resist the urge to remind him of Dr. Decker and the show on stalking. “So talk.”
“I’d rather do it face-to-face,” Nico says.
“You can’t come over. Mr. O’Brien will kill you.”
“I wish I knew why he doesn’t like me,” Nico mutters “We can meet someplace. Grab a drink or dinner.”
I should be thrilled by his offer. A few weeks ago, all I wanted was the chance to talk to him, but now I can’t imagine there is anything he could say that would make me want to forgive him or understand.
“At the very least, we can clear the air,” Nico says.
For the past six years, he’s been the person I have relied on most. We should end things amicably. “I’ll meet you for dinner.”
Chapter 36
Monday, my first day at work without Ben, does not start well. Just as the elevator doors begin to slide shut, Ryan waves his arm between them and boards. We are the only two on it. It jerks upward, and I reach for the railing behind me.
“Morning,” he says with his usual lecherous stare.
I nod and look down at my phone, pretending to be interested in something on its screen.
“So you and Nico are getting back together,” he says.
“No.” I swipe at my screen to discourage further conversation.
“Come on now. He said on air that you have a date tonight.”
Now I look up.
“I understand why you would want to keep it on the down low.” The elevator beeps as we reach the fourth floor. “Sort of makes you look like a doormat, going back to him.”
“It’s really none of your business.”
As we get to the door to our area, Stacy approaches from the other side with a balding obese man, whose suit pants are too short and jacket too tight. She shakes his hand, thanks him for coming in, and promises to be in touch.
I stop to wait for her so that I don’t have to walk with Ryan. “You’re interviewing for Ben’s position already?”
“No time to lose. We have a lot of work to do.”
I look back through the window at the first candidate, who’s waiting for the elevator.
Stacy follows my gaze. “Not quite the eye candy that Ben was, but his work is quite impressive.”
My first thought—that I can’t wait to tell Ben what she called him—causes a pang in my heart. My second thought is that she sounds like she’s already made up her mind. “I’m sure there are lots of talented people looking for work.”
“I hate interviewing,” she says before turning left for her office.
“Hey, sweetie,” Renee calls as I walk down our aisle.
I step into her cube. “Stacy already started interviewing for Ben’s position.”
“I know. We saw him this morning. Ben said he looks like John Candy.”
“How did Ben see him? Did you send him a picture?” I try to imagine Renee covertly snapping a picture of the guy as Stacy led him to her office. There’s no way she could pull that off.
“Ben was here this morning. Forgot his phone on Friday. Poor guy couldn’t get in the building all weekend because he doesn’t have an access badge anymore.”
He didn’t have his phone. He couldn’t call me! “What did he have to say?” That doesn’t explain why he left in the first place.
“Not much. He was in a hurry because he didn’t want to be late on his first day.”
Back at my desk, I’m tempted to text Ben, but I convince myself that now that he has his phone, he will definitely get in touch with me. I’m wrong though. When I leave to meet Nico that night, he still hasn’t called.
Chapter 37
My eyes take a moment to adjust to the interior of the dimly lit pub where I’m meeting Nico. Even though smoking hasn’t been allowed here for more than ten years, the place still reeks of cigarettes. I’m not sure if the stench is ingrained in the old red vinyl booths or if it’s coming off the patrons, most of whom have a hand wrapped around a short glass filled with hard alcohol and their eyes glued to the computer screen showing the winning Keno numbers.
Nico is sitting at a table facing the door, but he’s turned sideways so that he can see the baseball game on the television in the bar. He doesn’t notice me until I arrive at the booth. “Jill.” He sounds surprised, like he forgot I was coming. I can tell, though, that he’s made an effort for tonight, because he’s wearing a button-down shirt instead of one of his many Boston sports teams’ jerseys, and shoes, not sneakers. “I wasn’t sure you were going to show.”
“Neither was I,” I admit. From the street I saw his truck in the parking lot and drove past the restaurant, intending to go home. At the light a mile up the road, I changed my mind again, made an illegal U-turn, and circled back.
Nico stands and steps toward me like he’s going to hug me. I move sideways, evading his outstretched arms. He drops his hands back to his sides. “Thanks for coming,” he mutters.
He waits for me to slide into the booth before sitting again. We stare across the table at each other for a few seconds without speaking. I can feel my heart beating. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. I only came here so that I can understand why he left and get closure.
“You look good.” I think he says it to end the awkward silence, because it comes out sounding like a prerecorded message. Thank you for calling our hotline for people who have nothing to say to each other. Press one for insincere compliments, two for humorless jokes, and three for meaningless small talk.
A hefty waitress in a short-sleeved shirt arrives with menus. Her arms are covered in tattoos. I can’t stop staring at them. I spot a snake and a monkey below her right elbow, and a dragon above it.
“Are you here for drinks or food?” she asks.
“Both,” Nico answers.
“Drinks,” I say and ask for a rum and Coke because they don’t serve good wine at a place like this.
“Give us a minute,” Nico says after ordering his beer.
“I think I saw Waldo’s red-and-white striped hat on her a
rm,” I say after she leaves.
He narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Her tattoos.”
He looks at me blankly.
How could he not notice them? “Never mind.” Ben would have understood. When the waitress returns, he would stealthily touch a spot on his own arm. Snake, he would mouth.
Rabbit, I would counter, pretending to scratch an itch. The entire time we were here, we’d play a secret game of I Spy.
Nico glances toward the television. “No hits through four.”
Whoop de doo.
He opens his menu. “Did you already eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” I haven’t had an appetite since I woke up alone on Saturday.
“You love the chicken teriyaki sandwich and onion rings here. It’s why I picked this place.”
“I love the filet at the Capital Grille too, and the ambiance is much better.”
“Can’t watch the Sox there,” he says, glancing toward the television.
“Yes, because we came here to talk about the game and not us.”
He makes the clicking sound with his tongue. “Sorry.”
The waitress returns with our drinks. This time, I study the artwork on her left arm, noticing a spider and what I think are Chinese letters. “What did you decide about food?” she asks.
“None for me.”
“Chicken teriyaki sandwich and the onion rings,” Nico says. “We’ll split them.”
Onion rings. I would never eat them on a date now. I’d be too worried about my breath, not to mention what the fried batter would do to my weight. Did I just not care when I was with Nico? Did I eat them in front of him when we first started dating, or sometime in our six years together did I become complacent? “I’m not going to have any.”
“You might change your mind.”
“You’re the one famous for that.”
He winces, making me feel a tiny bit bad. “What happened with Bonnie?”
He exhales loudly. “Look, Jill. The radio station. The ratings were lousy. We were trying to attract female listeners. Branigan suggested the contest. I told him I’d think about it. The next thing I know, he’s moving ahead with the idea. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you leave?”
He fiddles with his silverware. “Once I gave you the ring, everything felt different. I couldn’t stop thinking of the notion of forever. It scared me.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
He sighs. “Look, Jill, I made a mistake.” He makes a point of looking in my eyes. “I want to correct it. Give me another chance. Please.”
I wait to feel elated. Isn’t this what I have been dreaming about since the day he left? All I feel is sad. I slump against the backrest and study his face. The dark, slanted eyes, his straight nose with the narrow nostrils and pointed tip, the five o’clock shadow that I used to find sexy. Renee’s right. He does look dirty.
“I know I hurt you,” he says. “Give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you.”
“How can we go back to what we used to be when I can’t trust you?”
“I don’t want to be what we were. I want to be better.” He reaches across the table for my hand. I let him take it, wishing I could find a way to forgive him and forget the last four months ever happened. Get back to planning our wedding instead of to online dating.
I hear an all-too-familiar clearing of the throat and look up. Mr. O’Brien is walking up the aisle toward us; his eyes zero in on my and Nico’s entwined hands in the center of the table. As he gets closer, his gaze meets mine. He doesn’t say a word, but the disappointed look on his face shames me. I pull my hand out of Nico’s as Mr. O’Brien turns to the right to pick up another Keno card.
Nico glances over his shoulder to see what I’m looking at. “Oh man,” he whines.
I think of how Mr. O’Brien took an immediate liking to Ben, but never warmed up to Nico. “What’s your problem with him?” I ask.
“I didn’t like that he was all up in our business all the time. And that BS about raising your rent when I moved in. Did he decrease it after I left?”
“As a matter of fact, he did.” Nico doesn’t have to know the decrease was about one-tenth of the increase.
The waitress drops off Nico’s meal. He cuts the sandwich in half and transfers it and a handful of onion rings onto a smaller plate, which he slides across to me. He’s sharing them with me to be nice, but his gesture annoys me. Even though the food looks and smells delicious, I resist the temptation to reach for it because I don’t want Nico thinking he knows better than I do.
“We can’t live at your place. You’ll have to move in with me,” he says.
I push the food back at him. “I’m not moving in with you.”
“We’ll find a new place then.”
“You don’t get it. I’m not living with you anywhere.” It’s just like him to assume I’d take him back, no questions asked. He might be more arrogant than Branigan.
“Okay, we’ll take it slow,” Nico says. “See what happens.” He bites into his sandwich like everything’s been settled.
“Why didn’t you try to stop Branigan?”
“I tried, but you brought that on yourself. All you had to do was apologize to him.”
I fold my arms across my chest.
“Sorry. Look, Jill, I want to focus on moving on and not replaying everything that happened.”
“Funny, you’re usually a big fan of replay.”
He smirks. “I’ll let you get away with these jabs for a little while, but eventually you have to forgive me.”
I feel a weird sensation under the skin on my arms and imagine my blood is boiling. “I have to forgive you? I don’t think so.”
He reaches for my hand again, but I jerk it away. “Jillian, we went through a rough patch. All couples do.”
“A rough patch? Is that what you call it? You made my life a living hell. Humiliated me on air. I was the laughing stock of my office.”
“Things got out of hand because you picked a fight with Branigan.”
“And you did nothing to stop him!”
“I tried.” He stuffs an onion ring into his mouth.
“Well, you didn’t try hard enough.”
He looks down at his lap.
“Why do you want to get back together?”
“Because I miss you.”
“What exactly do you miss about me?”
He sighs. “Why are you making this so hard, Jillian?”
“What did you think would happen? You’d say sorry and everything would be fine?”
He pushes his mostly uneaten sandwich to the side of the table. “I was hoping you’d want to work things out and not just throw away the six years we spent together.”
“You’re the one who did that.” I stand.
He grabs me by my wrist. “So that’s it? You’re not going to give me another chance?”
I shake my arm free. “You don’t deserve another chance. You don’t deserve me.” I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and head for the door.
“Jill. Jillian,” Nico calls out.
I keep walking and don’t look back.
Chapter 38
Tuesday morning when I wake up, I decide that Ben owes me an explanation so I will send him a text. I type Why did you leave on Saturday? I delete it because the tone is combative. I lighten it up. Hey, where did you run off to Saturday morning? Yes, that sounds friendly and doesn’t make me seem like a crazy stalker. I fire it off.
His response is fast, brief, and cold. Had someplace to be.
Bastard! Now I wish I had never sent the text because not knowing why he left was actually better than knowing. Damn.
My phone pings again. How was your date with Nico last night?
Screw you, Ben. Perfect!
I flip on the radio, hoping Nico isn’t talking about what happened. Fortunately, Branigan and Smyth are talking about baseball. I keep the radio tuned to their show an
d get ready for work. As I’m drying my hair, a commercial for Kaufman Jewelers comes on, making me wonder what Nico will do with the ring. Someday down the road, will he present it to a woman he’s dating and try to pass it off as something he picked out especially for her? She’ll believe him because she won’t have a reason not to. She’ll love it until Branigan sees it on her finger. You’re wearing a recycled ring, I imagine him telling her, and she’ll demand a different one.
The jewelry advertisement ends. “How was your date with Jill last night? Did you give her back the ring?” Branigan asks. I’ll say this for the guy, he’s smooth with his transitions from commercial breaks back to the show.
There’s a long silence before Nico answers. “Not yet.”
“But you think you will?”
“We agreed to take things slow. When I earn her trust again, she’ll slide the ring back on, and we’ll get back to planning our wedding.”
He is such a liar. I have a white-knuckle grip on my hairbrush. I place it down on the vanity and stretch my hand. On the bright side, his lie backs up what I said to Ben. Had someplace to be. What a big jerk.
“Frankly, I’m surprised she’s giving you another chance,” Branigan says. “We put her through the ringer these past months.”
“You did that,” Nico says. “Last night was a good start for us. And that’s all I want to say. From now on, we’re not going to talk about my personal life or mention Jill again. Agreed?”
“I don’t know about that,” Branigan says. “I’m still waiting for my apology.”
After another commercial break, Branigan goes to the phones, where everyone who calls in lambastes me for giving Nico another chance. “Does she have no self-respect?” Eric from Burlington asks.
I snap off my radio and finish getting ready for work. As usual, Mr. O’Brien pulls in as I’m leaving my apartment, and he’s listening to the radio. He climbs out of his car as I stomp across the driveway to mine. He gives me the same disappointed look he did last night.
“It’s not true,” I blurt out.
“What’s not true?”
“What Nico said on the radio, about us working it out. We’re not.” I open my car door.