by Juli Valenti
“Yeah…” I said, cursing my lack of preparation in dealing with situations like this. What was I supposed to say? That I cried myself to sleep for months after we split? That I missed him like crazy, but that I’d moved on, and he knew it? “I’ve thought about you too … you know, when I drive by the turn off to your street.”
His eyes traveled over me, taking me in, his handsome face looking exactly as I remembered it … maybe even better. Damn him. He looked all scrumptious with his hair done, freshly shaved, his cologne drifting out of the open window … and here I was, lucky that I’d even pulled a brush through my hair. Definitely not how I would have planned an accidental meeting if I’d had my choice. If I’d planned something like this, it would’ve been after a four-hour trip to the salon, complete with a manicure, pedicure, and a makeup artist … but that’s just me.
“Are things still good with you and … Chris is his name, right? I think I heard through the grapevine that’s who you were dating.” He was searching for information; I knew him well enough to know it.
“They’re, um … fine … Well, you know … I mean, yeah we’re good,” I stammered. “How about you?” God, I was so lame.
“I’m good. I’m almost finished with school, my last four classes,” he informed me, his eyes lighting up, obviously proud of his accomplishments. My heart smiled for him. He’d always wanted his degree, and I was happy that he was finally going to have it. I knew what it meant for him.
“That’s great!”
“Yeah, I’m pretty happy about it. So, what are you up to?”
“Um…” I looked around, my hands lifting as I turned, waving toward the grocery store. “Grocery shopping.”
“Oh, duh … why else would you be here.”
Silence fell as I stood awkwardly, my hands resuming their position stuffed in my jacket pockets. The wind was still bitterly cold, and I couldn’t stop rocking back on my heels, desperately wanting to leave, but wanting to stay at the same time. What can I say, I’m an emotional cutter.
“Anyway, I really wish you were single … then we could go out,” he stated, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah…” I wished I had something better to say, but I didn’t. What do you say to that? That a part of you wishes that too? That, at the same time, a part of you wants to rage at you, asshole, for breaking your heart?
“Um … so … it’s good to see you. My number changed,” he tried again, his constant gaze on me unnerving.
“Oh, mine did too,” I answered. I needed to get out of here, away from him. No good would come of me giving him my number, or taking his, which even in my sick stupor I could tell was what he wanted – he was looking around the front seat of his car, like he was searching for something to write on.
“Okay! Well, I’ll see you around,” I told him, taking a few steps toward the store, hoping, no, praying, for an end to this very awkward meeting.
“You too.” His voice was wistful, slightly sad, as he put his car in drive and pulled away. I could feel his eyes on me as I crossed the street and to the store. My body obviously felt it too, moving to sway my ass slightly, which was completely unlike me.
I didn’t realize I was shaking until the artificial brightness of the grocery store fell on me. Adrenaline I hadn’t even noticed was draining out of me, leaving me to feel weak and sick … weaker and sicker than when I’d left the house.
I needed to talk to someone, needed to share the random fucked-up-ness that had just happened to me, before I exploded. I wanted to talk to Elle, but if I waited until I got home to chat about it online, my words and what just happened would be cemented in writing. I definitely didn’t want that. Same with texting…
Decision made, I dropped my bottomless-pit purse into my cart, and fished out my phone. Finding her number, I pressed ‘call’ and held my breath as I waited for her to answer. I knew that her husband was out of town and she had both kids alone, but I prayed she’d have a couple seconds to talk to me.
“Hey, baby girl!”
“Hey! Listen … do you have a minute to talk?” I all but begged into the phone, pleased that I didn’t hear the usual chorus of ‘Mommy’ in the background. Maybe I had a chance!
“Of course! What’s up?”
“You’ll never believe what just happened to me…”
After telling Elle the entire story, I stopped walking, my cart almost continuing on without me until I remembered to grab it.
“You still there?” I asked, the silence coming from her end of the phone loud.
“Shit, Ry, only you…” her voice trailed off and I had to laugh. She was right: these kinds of things could only happen to me. I couldn’t make this crap up!
I sighed as I began pushing the cart again, leaning on it like it would hold me upright. Neither of us said anything for several moments, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I started and let out a surprised yip when Elle’s voice came back over the line.
“So … what are you going to do?” she asked, chuckling at my surprise.
“About what?” I questioned, confused.
“About Aaron,” she said, her voice carrying a ‘duh’ undertone to it.
I cringed at the sound of his name. Damn! Had she needed to say it aloud? It wasn’t something I was likely to forget, but one could hope, right?
Memories started to intrude, reminding me of the good times we’d shared before everything went sour. The baseball game was the first to come to my mind. It was my first-ever Major League game and our seats were right behind home plate. We could see everything from those seats and we cheered when our team was up to bat, booing when they weren’t.
We’d stayed after the game to watch the concert, a country star rocking out about not dealing with baggage. He’d been awesome and held me, whispering how any baggage I could ever have would never turn him away from me. I’d savored that moment, the amazing peace and comfort I’d found in his arms. I’d been flat-out, one-hundred-percent content with the world that night. It was then I knew I was in love with him … Of course, I didn’t know it was all fake on his side, just like the meat in the hotdogs from the stadium.
Shaking my head, I dispelled my thoughts before they continued on the path they were heading. I refused to go there, to get pulled back into the nightmare that took me so long to get out of.
“Geez, Elle,” I said, sounding winded, even to myself. “Cut my heart out, will you? You know the rules.”
“Oh Ry, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. ” Hearing Elle feel bad made me feel bad for making her feel bad. Sigh.
“S’okay. Anyway, I plan on doing nothing. Not a thing. Zip, zilch, nada. Besides, I’m with Chris –”
“That low-life piece of garbage? When are you going to cut him loose? Jesus, girl, the only thing he thinks about are animans and co-play-something’s.”
“Err … anime and cosplays,” I corrected her without thinking.
“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” she retorted and I felt my face warm. Ugh, how did I know that? “Seriously though, I know he’s good looking and all, plus he’s loaded, but ... can you really see a future between you? An anime wedding or something?”
I ignored her sarcasm. After all, she’d learned it from me. “No, I can’t,” I answered honestly, unable to lie to my best friend.
Elle and I had met in high school, and originally hated each other. One day, we’d discovered that we both had a love for the same books … We’d fought over book boyfriends and been inseparable since. Different as night and day, she was light where I was dark. Her blonde hair, now cut in a sleek bob, was a direct contrast to my dark mop. Her eyes were so blue, they looked like silver crystals when she was excited or angry. When we’d go out, her eyes attracted immediate attention, boys flocking straight to her. I had no illusions of grandeur when it came to the two of us – Elle was the looks, I was the humor.
Don’t get me wrong, when I wasn’t sick and gross, I wasn’t exactly homely. I knew I was decent, happy to share
the same fit physique as Elle – which totally came in handy when I stole, err … borrowed … her clothes. My hair was usually curled to frame my face, accentuating large brown eyes. I hated my eyes, always seeming too big for my face, but I’d long since accepted them.
Unfortunately … okay, good for her, but bad for me … Mister Right, also named Nick, came along and swept my friend off her feet. Not long after, she found out she was pregnant … with twins. Deep down, I really am happy for her; I may even be slightly jealous, not that I’d ever tell her that.
“Ryen?” she asked, snapping me out of my space program. “Are you okay?”
“Um… yeah,” I told her, ignoring the unspoken words in her question. Are you going to fall apart? Do you need me? Can you handle this renewed hurt?
“You know I’m here for you, baby girl.” Her voice was soft, gentle, soothing, and completely doubting my assurances.
“Yep, I know.”
“That’ll be seventy-four twenty-two,” the cashier said, surprising me. I hadn’t realized I’d gone through the checkout line, my brain obviously moving on autopilot. Seventy-four dollars! What the hell?! I’d only come for milk so I could have a bowl of cereal.
“What did you buy?!” Elle exclaimed, still on the line and obviously hearing the cashier. “I thought you were there for milk.”
“I was,” I told her, sighing again as I handed Tommy, according to his name tag, my debit card. “Apparently I wasn’t paying attention. I’d better go before I give the bag boy my car as a tip.”
My friend laughed before hanging up, promising to check up on me later. Dropping my phone in my bag, I gratefully accepted the bagger’s proffered help to my car.
Completely worn out and exhausted, I slipped into my car and made my way home, all the while plagued by the question of what the hell I’d bought.
Chapter Three
I may have lied a little to my best friend. Well, maybe lie is a harsh word. ‘Fib’ may suit the situation better, but regardless of how pretty I wrap it, I still lied. I wasn’t okay. I was sick, lonely, frustrated, and now, very, very depressed.
Why today, of all days, did I have to run into … him. The big guy upstairs certainly had a sense of humor if this was his idea of a joke. That man … gah.
Melancholy, and because, like I said before, I’m an emotional cutter, I sat on the floor looking at old photos. My back rested against the couch, the television on for background noise, and a full box of tissues along with a fresh bottle of Nyquil sat beside me. The tissues were for my ever-running nose, courtesy of the big, fat tears that had fallen from my eyes. Nope, I wasn’t crying. Well … anymore, at least.
The faces of strangers stared back at me from the glossy paper in my fingers. Me, or a girl who looked like me, but better, happier, stood close to a handsome man, his smile huge as the picture was clicked. I stared at the girl I used to be, my hair styled to look flawless, shiny, every strand in its place. I’d worn makeup that day, my eyes smoky and lips red. Happy. She was definitely happy.
How long had it been since I was that happy? We’d spent the day at the aquarium, running around like silly children as we joked about the sea creatures we saw there. We compared ourselves to them, which ones most resembled each other, laughing until reduced to giggling messes. Stopping at the eel tank, he’d joked that one of the flotsam creatures must’ve been related to his Uncle Jonah, because their faces were identical. I’d snorted, promptly slapping my hand over my mouth to cover the sound. It had been too late, and his eyes had grown wide as he propped himself against the wall, holding his stomach as he tried not to laugh at me.
Me being me, I’d thrown the souvenir whale plush toy he’d won me in the claw machine, its tail fin slapping him in the face. Shock, humor, and half-felt horror lit his face, and I’d giggled, running as he snatched it from the ground and chased me down the aquarium-walled hallway. I still didn’t know who, but one of us tripped, and we tumbled, landing in an awkward mess on the carpeted floor, other attendees staring at us like we’d lost our marbles. Neither of us cared, though, and he’d wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against him, his warmth seeping into me.
What a day that had been, I thought, blinking rapidly as my eyes leaked once more. I tried to keep them from falling, but I was unsuccessful, a large droplet plopping loudly onto the photo. It had been the last day we’d been together as a couple, the last day that any laughs were shared, or any loving touches. That day, the world had been at my feet, a glimpse of the possibility of more in my heart. I found him in bed with someone else that night.
Ugh. I hated that I was robbed the emotion of hate toward that home-wrecking slut. Okay, so I still hated her, even if I knew it wasn’t right, but it wasn’t really her fault. I’d shown up at his duplex planning on surprising him with a bottle of wine and an action flick on DVD. Sparing no second thought to the tan BMW in the driveway, I’d knocked loudly, fidgeting as I waited for the door to open. When it did, though, I was unprepared for the vision that assaulted me.
There he was, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair and body dry as could be, but his face flushed. The moment he’d opened his mouth to speak, I heard a woman’s voice, asking who was at the door seconds before she appeared from around the banister that led to his room. I guessed I could be grateful she’d at least draped the sheet over herself, I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise. He knew he’d been caught, and, thankfully, didn’t try to snow me into believing something I wouldn’t have anyway. He’d just said that we were all just having fun, right? We’d never agreed on anything serious.
I could do nothing but gape, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sure, we hadn’t agreed on a solid relationship, but after almost a year of dating, I’d assumed that it was assumed. Yes, I made an ass out of you and me, twice in a row. Well, an ass out of me and myself.
Without saying anything, what could I say to make the situation any different, I turned on my heel and walked away. The bottle of wine slipped out of my hand as I made my way back down his cobblestone walkway, but I never stopped, the movie falling shortly after. I’d been unable to think, deciding to walk instead of climbing back into my white Civic, and I turned down the street, not caring how I got home or where I was going.
Somehow, I’d eventually gotten home … Elle having come to my rescue, sending Nick and his friend to pick my car up so I wouldn’t have to go back to that house. I was grateful for it, and even more so when I heard the verbal lashing her then-fiancé had given the man who’d broken me. Words like ‘despicable asshole’ and ‘playboy’ had been thrown, I’d been told. There’d also been a strong warning given: “Stay away from Ryen, or you will get the same treatment you gave her heart, only with our fists.” I still wish I could have seen the look on his face for that.
Suddenly rightfully angry, I threw the stack of pictures, sending them flying across the room. Why was I sitting there, a complete mess over what that asshole had done to me? Yes, we had been good while we were together, but any man that could do that once, would certainly do it again. It was in their genes and completely unavoidable. Hell, I’d go so far to say that most men were that way. Except Chris.
Ugh. I’d swapped Mister-Almost-Right for Mister-I’ll-Never-Be-Right. What was wrong with me? Surely there had to be something better out there, someone who would be who I needed and not make me crazy in the meantime. There had to be a man who would understand I wasn’t a toy to be played with, a life-sized Barbie with feelings and a good heart. I was smart, at least I thought so, generally fun to be around; I liked sports!
I abruptly wished I had a fireplace so I could throw the offending pictures, along with their memories, into it and watch them burn. Never one to be un-resourceful, I snatched them back up, and in a wash of triumph, I ripped them. Tore through them and wished I could cackle maniacally as I did, but that would just make me cough and end the awesomeness I was doing now. I would get past this, past him, once and for all. So what if I’d seen
him for the first time since the whole nightmare. So what if he looked ridiculously sexy and I’d looked like death warmed over. One day, a real man would love me, even in my current state. Yes!
Feeling triumphant, I threw the now ripped, tiny, unrecognizable scraps of photos across the room. No longer were they pictures – they weren’t memories of happy times, nor were they chains of heartbreak past. Ironic how such small pieces of paper could’ve affected me so much. They’d once been a lodestone, one I was too weak to get rid of. Not anymore. I could have cheered I felt so exhilarated, until my gaze settled on the mess I’d made of the room. Huffing, I turned around and went in search of the vacuum.
Confetti gone from the floor? Check! Nose running, coughing, and slightly dizzy from exertion and dust? Check! Heart taped firmly back together? Sort of. I’ll admit, much of my bravado disintegrated in the time it took to find the stupid sucking machine. Of course it had to be in the last place I’d ever check … Whatever possessed me to plop it in the spare bathroom? How random is that?!
Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the bottom of my shirt, I stood in the middle of the room, rotating slowly while I tried to figure out what to do next. The thought of going back to bed, or even the couch, was alluring, but I knew if I so much as sat down on anything soft right now, I wouldn’t get back up. Decisions, decisions.
Just then, my stomach grumbled, making my decision for me. It had been quite a while since I’d eaten … well over a day, and apparently my body was demanding sustenance now. Giving in, I forced my feet to drag me toward the kitchen and to the cupboards. I’d put away the groceries I’d bought while talking to Elle, but still hadn’t paid attention to what they were. I was seeing them clearly now, though.
I guess my subconscious had decided it was a good idea to buy five cans of tuna, the ones with the mermaid on them, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a box of rainbow wafer cookies, two bags of potato chips, and a banana. One banana. Not a bunch of bananas, or even two … only one. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I’d have more luck in the fridge…