by Mia Kayla
When I peered up, her eyes turned sympathetic. “Well then, you need to just move the hell on, girl,” Kelly said, her honesty leaking out again. “Go out with this Evan dude, and if it’s not him, we need to find you a man. You don’t want to be the old cat lady.”
She was right, and I grimaced at the reality of her words. I focused my gaze on the wooden table, trying to picture myself in a tiny space with cats of every color, shape, and size in every nook and cranny.
“Bliss!”
I jumped, once again coming out of another daze. “I know. I know. I need to get out more.” My mouth was saying it, but I really didn’t know.
I’d been on a total of three dates these past few years. One was with Marvin, the teaching assistant for my Chemistry class, and really, those had been study dates. Well, I had gone there to study, but much to my surprise, he had been there to study me.
“Move on from hot football boy, and give this Evan dude a chance.” Kelly poked me with her pointer finger.
“I’m busy with school. You know this. I have a full load of classes, and I’m trying to graduate early.” My words sounded like a broken record on repeat.
She shook her head. “I’m calling BS on that excuse. Well, either way, Bliss, I know you don’t have any girlfriends, but girl-to-girl, you really need to move on. If hot football boy is your best friend like he says he is, he’d want you to go out and meet a nice guy.” She shifted toward the open book in front of her, indicating the end of our conversation.
I thought about it for another minute. Yeah, Jimmy wants me to meet the right guy, all right—at church.
With a defeated sigh, I flipped the page to the chapter we were studying and tried to push the images of Jimmy and the redhead to the back of my brain. Maybe I wasn’t his type, but there was no reason to torture myself over it.
But it only got worse. Everywhere I turned, whatever I watched on TV, I would see Jimmy and Clarisse… together.
Standing in line at the local drugstore, I scanned the display of gossip magazines on the rack. I clutched a bottle of Tylenol in my hand, pressing two fingers of my other hand to my temple to ease the massive migraine that initiated from the base of my skull before spreading to the front of my head.
As I tapped my foot, waiting for the line to progress, there they were, right by the register with a small picture in the corner of the front page. But I’d recognize his face from ten feet away because I knew everything about this man. I knew his voice without even seeing him. I knew the heaviness in his footsteps when he was approaching. His face was what I saw when I closed my eyes at night. So, when I opened them and I saw Jimmy with that girl, my chest would tighten, and I’d feel a queasiness in my abdomen that made me ill.
I gripped the Tylenol bottle tighter, feeling the plastic container press against my sweaty palm. Suddenly, my knees shook, my migraine and the nausea in my stomach causing me to sway. Everything around me amplified to where I was on sensory overload.
What is wrong with me?
I couldn’t tell if it was just feeling ill from seeing Jimmy with her or if I was truly getting sick.
The lady in front of me had her coupons laid out on the counter, matching them to each item, and I heard the soft chatter from a couple complaining behind me. I groaned at the noise. I needed a distraction, and I knew I should not have, but curiosity ate at my insides, so I picked up the magazine and searched for the article, thumbing through it until I saw them.
When my eyes focused on both of them, my lip quivered as I used all my energy to stay upright. She leaned into him, her arm wrapped around his lower back, as he signed an autograph for a fan. The caption read: Clarisse Calari and Jim Brason make an appearance together at the NFL Charity Ball.
My fingers trembled as I looked closer. My stomach churned, making me feel queasy, almost to the point of throwing up, from looking at them together. It wasn’t necessarily because she was touching him. It was his smile, his dimple set deep on his cheek.
All of me wanted to cry because I’d always thought that smile was saved for me. I made him smile. Now, someone else was playing my part, and it hurt.
My shoulders drooped as I rubbed my palm against my chest to dull the ache there. I felt broken inside.
I paid for my Tylenol in a robot-like motion and trudged out the door. The sun was shining, but it didn’t help my mood.
After a few seconds, my feeling of despair dissipated, and I started to feel jittery and irritated. My insides warmed with annoyance.
I hated that she had him, and I didn’t, but more than that, I hated that he’d lied to me. He’d said he wasn’t with her, but the media and the gossip magazines had painted a different story. It was hard to believe him when they were thrown together everywhere I turned.
We never lied to each other. Our promises were everything. They were unbreakable. When we promised, it was for infinity.
The streets of Chicago on a Saturday afternoon bustled with families enjoying the beautiful summer day. The sky was clear, but the sun would be setting shortly, and all I wanted to do was get back to my place and watch TV or curl up with a good book. Most of all, I wanted to forget about the redheaded hoochie and Jimmy Brason giving away my smile.
I stepped into my apartment, threw the bag onto the floor, and flopped on the couch. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
I cringed inwardly when Jimmy popped up right away. Some stupid entertainment show was on, and they were showing that same damn picture.
Can I get no peace?
I wanted to rip my hair out.
It was like the gods were trying to send me a hint. Sorry about your luck!
If this were The Game of Bliss’s Life, my screen would be flashing, Game over. Better luck next time.
With a frustrated huff, I flipped off the TV and threw myself against the couch, chewing on my bottom lip. Before I could think about what I was doing, I dialed Jimmy’s number. It rang a couple of times before he answered.
“Hey, Boo.” His cheery tone made me want to scream for release.
I wanted to yell at him even though it would be immature. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Loud music boomed in the background, and I heard people chattering away. I glanced at the clock on my wall. It was only five p.m.
“One sec!” he yelled above the chatter.
A moment later, the noise died down, and I heard the door shutting.
“Hey, everything okay?” His voice changed, etched with worry.
I slumped against the couch, feeling defeated. “Yeah.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Just the sound of his voice had me longing to be near him. Weak, I scolded myself. You are weak, weak, weak. But the lecture did nothing to change my feelings. I was hopelessly lost.
I tried to press the emotions back and keep my voice even. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Nope. Just out at Tim’s house for his birthday. What’s up?”
I miss you.
I fell silent.
“Boo?”
I still didn’t answer.
“Is it your mom?” he fished, worried.
“No.” I chewed on my bottom lip.
Is Clarisse there with him? The thought caused a lump to form in the back of my throat. I just wanted to know. That one question itched to get out.
“Boo?” I could picture his eyebrows pulling together in concern. “Tell me,” he said softly, sensing something was wrong.
My mouth felt dry. I was unable to speak. Maybe because I didn’t want to hear the truth, or maybe I was afraid he’d lie to me again.
“Do you need me to come home?” he asked.
I knew he was serious. If I asked, he’d be on the next flight here.
I gripped the phone tighter, wishing he were here with me.
Yes, come home.
The words were on the tip of my tongue. I just needed the courage to force them out. I cleared my throat, giving myself one more second to get my words straight.
I tried to level the sound of my voice as I spoke, “I think…I think I found your razor.”
There was a silence on the phone as though he could tell that wasn’t the real reason I’d called him. I hated how he knew me so well.
“Is that really why you called?” he asked, sounding confused.
“Mmhmm,” I answered weakly, finally finding my voice. “Really.” I forced my voice to be firm, to be believable.
Someone called out his name in the background, but he ignored the person and questioned me again. “Bliss?”
“Jimmy, go back to your party. I just wanted to call to let you know I had it before I forgot. Really, Jimmy, that’s it.” I sounded more convincing this time. It wasn’t the time for my insecurities to come out into the open.
He exhaled a heavy sigh. “Thank the Lord. Boo, you scared the living bejesus out of me for a second. I was about to book a flight.” He laughed. “Just keep it until the next time I see you.”
The next time I would see him would be at the first game of the season.
I tightly closed my eyes and willed all my feelings and the tightness in my chest to go away. I wish I could only muster up enough courage to ask him if he was with her.
Did it really matter though? He didn’t want to be with me, so why should I stop him from being with her, right?
Instead, I said, “I’ll just hold on to it then.”
A door banged in the background.
“Hold up!” he yelled away from the receiver. “Hey, Boo, gotta run. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”
He’d said those last words so nonchalantly, but they meant so much more to me.
“I love you, too,” I repeated before he hung up.
“I’m in love with you,” I whispered to no one in the room, my voice thick with emotion.
I blinked as my vision blurred from unshed tears. It was then I realized that, as hard as it would be, I needed to distance myself from Jimmy. I had tried this before, but I needed to be more forceful. I needed to stick to my guns and protect my already broken heart. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was living his life. Now, I needed to live mine.
After five minutes, I found myself picking up the phone and dialing. “Hey, Evan.”
“Hey,” he greeted, sounding excited.
I bit my bottom lip, having no idea what to say. “Um…” An awkward silence built as I tapped my foot against my wooden floor.
He broke the silence, “So, I still have those tickets.” He sounded as hopeful as he had the other day.
I hesitated and then pictured Jimmy at the party with his arms wrapped around the redhead—or maybe it was someone else. I had no way of knowing. All I did know was that it would never be me.
Jimmy was the one who always said I had to live my life. Maybe it was time to let go, listen, and take his advice.
“Okay,” I replied, finally feeling my lips turn up into a small smile. “I’ll go.”
Distancing myself was harder than I’d thought. I’d pick up our daily calls, but I would end them quickly. After a week, Jimmy started to sense something was wrong. I thought he knew, like I knew, that everything was changing.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked during our routine eight a.m. call.
“Yeah. School is just kicking my butt.” I realized I’d used this excuse the last time we talked and the time before that. It was the most believable excuse, yet it got old.
“Okay.” He sighed softly over the phone.
“Hey, I need to go. I…I have something to do tonight, so I have a few errands to run and tons to do before then.”
“Okay. Talk tomorrow?” he asked in a quiet soft voice, sounding as though he were unsure we would.
“Yeah, of course.” I bit my lip, squeezing the phone tightly. Why did it hurt so much—talking to him and saying good-bye?
“Hey…” He hesitated. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
My thoughts flickered to Evan, and I rubbed at my brow, my pulse picking up, as I wished to God that Jimmy wouldn’t ask me about my plans tonight. I didn’t need an argument, especially not about Evan.
Evan had been calling me almost daily. Most of the time, he would initiate conversations. But the more we spoke, the more comfortable I felt. Little by little, I’d been looking forward to his calls, which gave me a tinge of hope that maybe this could work out. I wasn’t falling for Evan, but more realistically, I was trying to move on.
But every time I got off the phone with Evan, my thoughts would flicker to Jimmy, and the guilt would set in.
Jimmy was going to find out eventually. That was no question. If Evan and I really started dating, I knew Jimmy wouldn’t agree. Either way, I had come to the decision that if I didn’t have a say in his life, he didn’t have one in mine.
When I’d start to feel guilty again, I’d picture him with the redhead until the jealousy and anger and the reality of my situation smothered all that guilt.
Poof. Gone.
Maybe I was sort of keeping this little secret from him because I deserved to have a few things of my own, to keep some things to myself.
“It’s school, Jimmy. Really.” Now, let it go. Please.
He cleared his throat, and my heart rate picked up as I felt something coming.
“If I tell you I have this gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach and it has everything to do with you, can you tell me it’s nothing? I know it sounds crazy, and you’re just busy, but I don’t know. Why do I keep feeling like something’s wrong?” He sighed heavily.
I knew this was eating him up. He knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. Most of all, he knew when something was off with our relationship.
Silence filled our long-distance call.
After a beat, I sighed and closed my eyes. Two wrongs didn’t make everything better. Withholding the truth was almost like telling a lie. I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I took one deep breath and spit it out, “I have a date tonight with Evan.”
Silence.
Forever silence.
It was the type of silence where I was afraid to speak, the kind of quiet where I could only hear his breathing but not calm breathing. It was quite the opposite. It was angry deep puffing where I pictured his nostrils flaring out like a bull.
The fine hairs lifted on the nape of my neck. Still, I buckled down, squared my shoulders, and prepared for his wrath.
“Jimmy?” I said, finally finding my voice. I wanted to tell him that he wasn’t my dad, that he didn’t make my decisions, that he didn’t own me. Most of all, I wanted to tell him I needed to move on, that seeing him with the redhead and the smile that was supposed to be mine had made my heart hurt.
“I think I heard you wrong,” he said, his voice barely controlled.
I heard his anger beneath the surface.
My mouth couldn’t form words, and I chewed my bottom lip, not wanting to start an argument that would put me in a foul mood the whole night.
Shoot. Maybe I wasn’t brave enough for this.
“I did, right?” He let out a weird laugh, like he was going crazy. “I mean, there’s no way. We talked about this.”
Yes, we had talked about this. But it was my life. I had to think about me.
I gritted my teeth, feeling my irritation and despair from never being his come together inside me. I needed this. More than anything, I needed to show him this was my choice to make.
“I have a date with Evan tonight,” I said, my voice as low and barely controlled as his was.
He wasn’t going to talk me out of this, not when this was my way of moving on.
“I know you think that I can’t take care of myself, but I can. You do your thing,” I reminded him coldly, hiding my hurt, “so I don’t understand why I can’t do mine.”
“I never said you couldn’t date,” he argued. “Just not that douche. You promised me, Bliss!”
And so did you, I thought. You promised you’d tell me if you became serious with anyone.
I felt my resolve strengthening, my skin thickening. The more he expressed his opinion on Evan, the more it solidified that I would indeed go on my date with Evan. I lifted my chin in defiance.
“You know, maybe he has a reputation, but so do you, Jimmy,” I threw back at him. He needed a taste of his own medicine. “What about Clarisse? Are you guys dating?” I hadn’t planned on taking that turn, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I told you, I’m not dating her,” he ground out.
I couldn’t believe him, not with all those pictures out there with them together. “When did we start lying to each other?”
“When did you start believing gossip magazines?”
“You can tell me the truth!” I shouted back at him.
“I am!” he yelled louder. “We’re not dating. If anything, I’m sick and tired of her and her groupies following me around. She keeps pulling this shit, trying to make everyone think we’re together. She’s exaggerating a relationship that’s not there. It’s bullshit, Bliss.”
I couldn’t see past my anger, hurt, and jealousy. My body tensed as I gripped the phone tighter. I was fuming now, breathing hard. We both were.
He took a few seconds before he spoke, “Boo, this is not about me. It’s about you, and I’m gonna fucking lose it if you go out with him. I can’t stand it.” I could picture him pacing and roughly running his hand through his hair. “Call that dick right now, and tell him you can’t go.”
Even though he couldn’t see me, I squared my shoulders and jutted out my chin. “I’m going out with him tonight, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“What?”
He was huffing and puffing, and I swore, he was going to blow his house down.
“Jimmy, calm down.”
“Calm down? You want me to calm down? Bliss Carrington wants me to calm down.” His volume increased with each sentence. He took a heavy long breath and then said, “You want calm? I can do calm. Have fun on your date with Evan.” Then, he hung up.