by Ava Alise
I mean she can’t mess this up too bad, right?
We move to the living room as Marie goes to fill each of the foot baths with warm water.
“Let’s say a prayer… please protect our nails, Father,” Brooke whispers which causes Ros and I to laugh.
The last time Marie came over, I was completely indisposed. Sean and I had just broken up, and I didn’t want to be bothered with anyone, free hair color rinses or not.
Marie hums as she rifles through her bags. “Well, you can start soaking your feet when ready.”
She adds drops of something that smells like peppermint to each of our bubbling foot baths, then returns to her bag, pulling out nail products, scrubbing salts, oil, pumice stones, and towels.
After wearing those heels all night, I wish she’d come over every morning after we go out.
“Where’s Kesha?” Marie asks.
“She hooked up with a guy last night as we were at The Lounge,” Brooke responds.
Marie nods and then starts working the salt scrub into Ros’ feet.
“So, Liz,” Brooke says after a few minutes.
“You know I love you, but you really worry me , honey. You’ve been so down recently, and it was so nice seeing you laugh and have fun last night. I know how important your relationship with Sean was, but maybe it really is time to hang out with some other people, you know?”
I’m completely uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation.
I look over at Brooke and feel the tension begin to roll up my spine.
“Uh huh,” I murmur.
Brooke and Kesha are best friends and have been our neighbors since the day we moved in. We’ve all grown very close and spend a lot of time together. They both were there to help Ros and me while we were grieving the loss of my sister. We didn’t know each other as well back then, but Ros and I were complete wrecks when they came and introduced themselves. Brooke and Kesha brought us food, collected our mail, and helped us stand when we couldn’t help each other. They are amazing girls. It still hurts to think about Della, but she would kill me if she knew I stopped living when she did, that thought alone pushed me to enroll in school. It also allowed me to be in the proper state of mind to give a relationship with Sean a chance when I randomly bumped into him a year after she died. It felt like fate, and on our first date I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I had let Dell introduce me to Sean the night of the gala.
“So what’s holding you back? Are you trying to get back together with Sean?” Brooke asks.
I let out a sigh and notice Ros is rolling her eyes.
I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want her to know that the minute I get the nerve I’m calling Sean to tell him about my divorce. I’m not going to say that, because I know I will get a huge lecture from the both of them.
“Uh… I don’t know. I’m just not ready to get back out there. I don’t have the energy to open myself up to anyone right now.”
“Okay, so let me ask you a question. If you had to describe the best qualities in a guy for you, what would they be?” Brooke asks, inquisitively.
She’s serious.
Marie finishes Ros’ scrub treatment and allows her to soak her feet in the water, then she moves over to begin my feet.
I don’t want to talk about this, but I know she’s only trying to help, so I decide to grin and bear it.
“Sheesh, okay,” I sigh. Perfect guy? My mind immediately goes to Sean, but would I consider him perfect?
“He would need to be sweet and attentive, ambitious,” I pause, considering, “a little impulsive—like the fun kind—and attractive. He must know his way around a woman’s body,” I finish.
“Yeah, because there’s nothing worse than a sexy guy who can’t find the hole,” Ros adds.
The girls laugh.
“So now what you do is cross out all the things on that list that would make you fall in love with the guy,” Brooke says.
“What?”
“You said you don’t want to open yourself up to anyone, right?”
“Yeah.”
“But as your friend, I agree—you do need to get out and have some fun. So what you do is take your ‘must have’ list and cross out the things that would make you fall in love. For example, you can find a guy who isn’t all that ambitious, which would be a turnoff to you, right?” Brooke asks.
“Right, I’ve worked too hard to put my life back together to be with a ‘do-nothing’ guy,” I say, brows knitted, curious where she’s going with this.
“This same guy can be sweet, lay pipe like a god, but also be a bit predictable or not as attentive. That would make him a good rebound…that would make him a non-negotiable.”
“Non-negotiable?” Ros asks.
Marie finishes my scrub down and pumice treatment then moves back to Ros to use a pumice stone on her feet.
“Yes, he will have just enough to keep you interested, but your heart is protected. You’ll never fall for him completely because he’ll also have qualities you find unattractive.” Brooke looks back and forth between Ros and me.
“See what I mean?”
“I guess, in theory, it makes sense,” Ros says.
I sit quietly by myself and wonder about her crazy ass idea.
I can see her point. If….
“Okay, so what you’re saying is, if I wanted a rebound to avoid the possibility of catching feelings, I would need to find someone appealing but not perfect.”
“Exactly, it will be your break from dating. You could be like Beyoncé in “If I were a boy”, stay completely detached, but still enjoy every second,” Brooke says as Marie moves over to begin her pedicure.
“This just sounds bad,” Marie pipes in, “like mean… almost.”
“Guys do it all the time. There is no way those men get emotionally attached to all the women they juggle. I’m not telling her to play with anyone’s head, I’m just saying if she comes across a guy who doesn’t want anything serious this is how she protects herself from falling for him.”
The room gets quiet while we all digest her words. I don’t know what to think about her theory. I guess she’s right, though—guys always seem to find a way to keep their emotions separate.
Sean was just so perfect, though. He worked hard, graduated from college early, and now works for a very successful marketing firm. Add that to everything on my must-have list, and he is one tough act to follow, rebound or not.
We’re all still sitting in silence when the doorbell rings. Marie goes to answer it for us since she’s the only one with dry feet.
“Hey, Kesha,” Marie says as she steps back to let her in.
“Well, don’t you look like yesterday,” Ros teases.
“Haha, walk of shame much?” Brooke adds.
Kesha collapses on the empty love seat, looking exhausted, and begins taking her shoes off.
“So worth it! If y’all had the night I had, you would be proud to look like yesterday,” Kesha says, beaming.
“Oh really, so ol’ boy was that good, huh?”
“Lord, yes! I’m surprised my legs still work!”
We all laugh.
I’m surprised to feel a pang of jealousy hit me. Kesha’s got “Just fucked” written all over her face, and I haven’t missed that feeling until right now. I guess I really have been lonely.
“So what are we doing tonight?” Kesha asks.
“I’m supposed to be meeting up with Kevin tonight,” Ros says.
“And I have a date with Caleb,” Brooke says.
“Caleb? You mean green eyes from last night, Caleb?” Kesha asks, grinning.
“Yes,” Brooke smiles.
“Damn, girl, y’all met like twelve hours ago; not wasting time, huh?”
“It was more than twelve hours! He said he wanted to see me again, so we’re meeting up at a party,” Brooke responds.
Kesha’s eyes narrow. “What kind of party?” Looks like her best friend senses are tingling.
“It’s a party at his cousin’s house,” Brooke says, defensively.
“Hell no! I’m going too; you are not going to some random party with some random guy you just met, by yourself,” Kesha almost yells.
“Fine,” Brooke says.
“Fine.”
Ros and I look back and forth between the girls.
Hell no, I wouldn’t let Ros do that mess either, sounds like a gang-rape hazard.
Eventually, Marie finishes our feet and nails, and everyone leaves. Ros and I are sitting on my bed admiring Marie’s work while we’re eating double fudge ice cream.
“She did a pretty good job; she should pass her midterm no problem,” I say.
“Yeah, thank God she didn’t get hair rinses,” Ros says with a laugh.
I shake my head.
“Tell the truth, you had fun last night, didn’t you?” Ros says, still smiling.
“Yeah,” I say, meeting her gaze, “why are you acting like we don’t hang out there all the time?”
“Well, recently we haven’t been, plus when we did go, you never let loose like you did last night. You actually had more than one drink, and you danced. Usually, you’d stay stuck in the booth next to Sean the Bore.”
I laugh, “He wasn’t that bad.”
“Mr. Suit and Tie. I mean, I get he’s a little older than us, but how many twenty-four-year-olds do you know who dresses the way he does?”
“Shut up,” I say, throwing a pillow at her, and we both crack up laughing.
“So when do you take your midterms?” Ros asks, noticing my book bag sitting on the floor in the corner of my room.
“Two on Wednesday and two on Friday, so I have a few days to cram, but I’m doing pretty well this semester. I think I’ll be fine. What about you?”
“Same, but one on Wednesday and three on Friday,” Ros says as her phone starts to ring.
“I’ll be back, it’s Kevin.”
Ros and Kevin have been together since ninth grade; they’ve broken up and gotten back together over a half dozen times. I guess now they’re in what some people call an “open relationship” because they say they are too young to be so serious. I’ve never understood that, but I’m the nut who got married at eighteen. I mean, it works for some but in my case…
I fluff my pillows and lean back onto my headboard.
This room really needs to be cleaned. My dresser is covered with scattered papers from school, my nightstand and desk both have books and cups all over them and where did that cereal box come from? I know I’ve been depressed, but I didn’t realize I was this bad off.
Pushing myself off the bed I walk into the kitchen to grab a trash bag.
“New Liz,” I sigh.
I can’t be New Liz with Old Liz’s depressing ass room.
Grabbing my iPad and speakers, I hit play on an old workout playlist and with the bit of energy I have left along with a lot of motivation, I begin the process of cleaning Old Liz’s room. I even make my bed.
About an hour later, my room is clean; I fall back onto the bed completely spent. Ros has already gone for the night to be with Kevin, she seemed proud that I was cleaning my room and making an attempt to “Shed the Old Liz” as she likes to say.
A huge yawn escapes my lips, and I grab my phone to see what time it is.
1 NEW TEXT MESSAGE
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Unknown: Hey. It’s Chris, What’s up?
Freezing momentarily, my eyes widen with surprise, I almost forgot I gave him my number. I mean, I know why I did… kind of. The things he said, er… well, the way he said them, ‘I know what I want.’ The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice when he said that made a sensation roll through my body that I’ve never felt before. Sean never spoke to me with such seduction. It felt amazing… and confusing. I feel like I’m cheating on Sean, which is insane, since I haven’t talked to him in over a month, and he dumped me. I’ve lost it.
I need to tell him about my divorce. I just have to pull up my big girl panties and do it already.
Pulling up Sean’s contact for the third time today, I text him.
Me: Hey, Sean. It’s been a while. I hope you’re doing well. I have some great news, my case went through today. I’m officially divorced.
I pause for a minute, take a few deep breaths, and hit send before I can talk myself out of it. My phone shows message DELIVERED at 8:39 p.m., and I immediately start to panic, wishing I could unsend it.
Maybe I should’ve called instead. SHIT.
Staring at the phone, I wait, and at 8:42 p.m. the message goes from DELIVERED to READ.
Shit, shit, shit. He read it.
My heart is beating so hard, I worry my ribs may shatter. I try to slow it down by taking deep breaths.
I continue to stare at my message, afraid to blink as if his reply will appear and then disappear before I read it.
I wait…
And wait…
And nothing.
I look up at the time, it has been almost fifteen minutes of me staring at my own fucking message, and Sean still hasn’t responded. Finally, I drop my phone and fall back onto my pillow. I’m staring at the ceiling and for some reason, I cover my ears as I feel that all too familiar burn start behind my eyes. He’s not going to respond. He doesn’t fucking care.
Tears flow from my eyes, the same ‘fuck you’ tears I cursed yesterday, the big ones I told myself I was done with. The tears come hard and fast and I turn my face into my pillow and sob, clutching my stomach.
What the hell man? This is why he gave up on us, this was what he wanted. I finally get it done, and he ignores me.
“FUCK HIM!” I yell, and it echoes through my empty apartment.
I start taking deep breaths to calm myself, I wipe my eyes until I feel the tears slow. Grabbing my phone, I bypass the unlock screen, and still on display is my ignored text.
“FUCK YOU!” I yell at the phone, hoping Sean can somehow hear it.
Through my tears, I pull up Chris’ text and respond.
ME: Hey, cutie, want to hang out?
I hit send.
LIZ
Click.
My seatbelt fastens as I try to relax in Teeth’s car, about an hour and a half after my ignored text. I threw on a flirty low cut top and a pencil skirt with some black heels. I also let down my hair which, surprisingly, survived the night of drinking, and did my makeup at lighting fast speed.
His car is beautiful, looks like it’s fully loaded too. He can’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three-years-old so yeah… not bad, Teeth, not bad.
OH SHIT!
WHAT IF HE’S A DRUG DEALER?
“So, where do you want to go?” Teeth says, snapping me out of my awe.
“Doesn’t matter, but I am hungry. Have you eaten?” I respond, trying to forget about the drug dealer bit.
“I’m a man, I can always eat,” he smiles.
“Where do you want to eat?” The sound of the tires grinding against tiny rocks crackle in the air as he backs out of the parking space.
“Uh, maybe…Japanese?” I ask.
“Sounds good. Suko is still open if you feel like Hibachi,” he says.
Smiling I say, “Yes, I love Suko!”
Suko is one of the better Japanese Steakhouses in town, and the restaurant stays very busy.
I look at the time on my phone. 10:57 p.m.
“Wait… they close in about thirty minutes, and we are about twenty away, not including traffic; think we’ll make it?” I ask, doubtfully.
“Oh, baby, we’ll make it.”
He winks at me, pulls the car onto the road, and we head toward the highway. After we reach the on-ramp to Interstate 20, I feel the slight hum of the car as he accelerates. Teeth cranks up the radio, and the car takes off. I feel the gravity pull me back into my seat. My eyes shift from the dash to the road as we close in on the traffic ahead.
We are going about ninety miles per hour! He’s either going to get pulled over,
or kill me!
Bobbing his head to the music, he maneuvers the car with ease through the traffic, never slowing down. Usually, I’d be a little scared, but his confidence puts me at ease. The way he handles the car with finesse and authority is kind of sexy. Not to mention, I love this car; I feel like we’re floating.
We make it to the restaurant at 11:15 p.m., just enough time to get in and get seated before they stop taking customers for the night.
“So, Liz. How are you feeling? You were pretty fucked up last night,” he says, teasingly, after the hostess seats us.
Embarrassed, I blush, but before I can answer him, a waiter comes to introduce himself and take our drink orders. We both order non-alcoholic drinks.
“I’m good now. Wasn’t so great this morning,” I sigh, “I never drink like that, so it hit me pretty hard. Did you have fun last night?”
“Yea, I did.”
“Good,” I smile, “So, what made you text me tonight?”
“I got to thinking about last night. You surprised me when you came over and stole me from the other girl, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he says, chuckling. I grin and cock my head to the side.
“What? Stole you?” I laugh.
“Yeah. You nearly knocked the girl over, I think she cried,” he says with mock concern.
“Oh right!”
“It was sexy. Bold.”
“Me, bold? Well, I seem to remember you staring at me while you danced with that girl, so I was doing her a favor,” I smile at him.
“Mmm, is that right?”
“Yep.”
“Well… you shouldn’t have worn that fucking dress,” he says, and the look in his eyes change slightly, becoming darker.
At that, my smile fades and we sit staring at each other.
His eyes are hypnotizing; they are so easy to get lost in with the specks of gold beckoning me to his hazels.
The waiter returns with our drinks, snapping us out of our trance, then decides to give us a few minutes before taking our dinner orders. We haven’t even touched our menus.
I grab my cup and take a sip of my sweet tea as he clears his throat and takes a swig from his own.
Damn, my throat is dry.