Sleeping with strangers and doing it in public—she’d discovered thanks to Adam—were huge turn-ons. Or at least the thought of such things were. The train had been semi-public.
Her mouth dropped open. God has to be more disgusted with me than I am.
Probably what she needed was to get in touch with a counselor.
Or a rabbi.
Rhea settled at the kitchen table to check her phone, expecting an email from Dr. Kasick’s office telling her a box of her belongings was in the mail and she needn’t return to work. Ever.
Now that two days had gone by since she last said a word to anyone in cyberspace, certainly someone had to have noticed her absence and checked on her.
No phone calls, second verse same as the first. Rhea cradled her forehead in her hand, fighting off her tears. Hadn’t she cried over this crap enough already?
Maybe there was something good on Facebook. She scrolled through her feed.
Page update selling something.
Suggested post. Also selling something.
Friend liked a meme. Not just any meme; an offensive one.
Page update with a cat meme. Okay, well at least that one’s cute.
Friend liked a meme with a glaring grammatical error in it.
Rhea continued scrolling through more of the same, wondering what was the point in checking Facebook anymore.
Suggested post selling something. Really? Wasn’t there one of those just a few posts back?
An actual update. Rhea sighed. By a friend complaining she couldn’t sleep last night.
Someone mentioned a trending topic on a celebrity she couldn’t care less about.
Charmed Mooregood liked this.
“Oh.” Rhea straightened. “Whose misery did she get a kick out of today?”
The post in question was the photograph of a woman’s left hand with a spectacular engagement ring parked on it. The accompanying description read, He asked and I said ‘you betcha.’
Rhea looked to see which ‘he’ was tagged in her former co-worker’s engagement announcement: Mark Coleman.
“Whose misery? My misery!” Rhea smacked her palm on the table.
It was so tempting to pitch the phone into the wall across from her but this same frenemy cost her a couple hundred dollars in splintered-cell-replacement already.
Taking a deep breath instead, Rhea did what she should have done years ago: she pressed on Charmed’s name beside the notification and unfriended her with a chipper, “Fuck you.”
For a few blissful moments, Rhea let herself feel good about having done that before she realized the assorted implications of the post she’d seen.
Charmed had to be friends with Mark because she never knew Amanda, not even through Rhea—and that had to have happened after the divorce was finalized since Charmed and Mark hadn’t been friends when she was still married to him. He disliked Charmed because of how she always treated Rhea.
Unless that was for show. God knows what he did behind my back. What they were doing behind my back. Not as if she’d given a damn.
Then: It’s been five months and he’s engaged to the co-worker whose massages he always chose over mine. Kinda proves he was cheating on me with her.
She huffed: “Figures.”
That was more her speed of giving damns.
Rhea resorted to cleaning her kitchen and tried to put the news out of her head; even if she felt like maggot shit, her apartment needn’t smell likewise. Two disinfected countertops into the task, her phone started buzzing.
Her first impulse was to let it go to voicemail. Whoever it is, let them worry. By the third buzz, vengeance was replaced by desperation and she rushed to answer it while drying her hands.
Her bestie was calling.
Why? Cass never calls.
Rhea answered just before voicemail took it. “Hello? Cass?”
“Rhea, hi,” Cass replied. “God it’s good to hear your voice.”
Rhea wasn’t so confident she could say the same. Cass sounded odd. “What’s up?”
“Oh—nothing—just, um . . . Calling to see what’s going on in your neck of the woods.”
“Well, I guess in the divorced-spouse-races, I just officially lost.”
“Huh?”
“Mark’s already getting remarried and the only thing I’ve successfully done is to ruin every good thing I had in twenty-four hours or less. I must be a remarkable kind of loser.”
The line fell quiet for a while. Rhea pulled the phone from her ear to check if the call had been dropped.
No.
“—Hello?” said Rhea.
“What about Adam?” Cass asked.
“Oh yeah, no. It’s . . . that’s over.”
“It can’t be.”
Rhea rolled her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because he loves you?”
“Yeah well whatever.” Rhea paced around her kitchen table. “It’s over. Trust me, I made sure of it. I fucked everything up.” Damn near literally.
“Everything? Do you still have your job?”
Rhea hoped she would when she returned from her time off. For the moment, as far as she knew: “Yeah.”
“And you still have a place to live, right?”
“Yes.” Unlike Brianna, soon.
“Have some perspective, huh? Your problems could be so much worse.” Cass’s voice cracked through the last several words.
“Y’know, if I wanted this kind of so-called help, I’d have called my parents.” Rhea gaped at herself for having the guts to say that and she braced herself against the table.
“Rhea . . . Pika Tomes Orange County is closing.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“They’re closing our whole office and laying everyone off.”
“Oh shit,” Rhea whispered, collapsing into her kitchen chair. “Everyone?” As she recalled, Cass’s husband Jack worked in a different department within the same company.
“Yeah. Now you’re catching on.”
“Oh my God—”
“They called the entire staff of our office into a conference room a month ago. I was one of the first ones to get there and a bunch of people from upper-management filed in carrying stacks of tissue boxes. I knew it wasn’t gonna be a good meeting.”
Last month? This happened a month ago and she didn’t bother telling me? That was far from the point of this exercise but Rhea’s feelings were still hurt for being kept out of the loop regarding such significant news. “I thought they were grooming you for a move into management.”
“They were gonna promote me next month. Apparently international corporate doesn’t give a rat’s ass what we were doing here.”
“What about the other corporate offices? Are those still open?”
“Of course they are,” Cass snapped. “They’re only screwing us over.”
“Could you maybe put in for a transfer?”
“That was the first thing I did the day they made the announcement. I was approved by the end of that week to move to King of Prussia.”
“Where?” asked Rhea.
“Pennsylvania. Anyway, we filled out an application for an apartment, put money down on it and then I saw the relocation package wouldn’t cover even a fraction of a cross-country move. The money we put on that apartment is non-refundable and now we have a house we have to scramble to sell and somehow find an affordable apartment nearby—which I think you know doesn’t exist in Southern California.”
“Well . . .” She wracked her brain for a non-stupid-sounding response. “Did they give you severance packages?”
“Sure. But they’re an absolute slap in the face. Oh and guess what I found out today?”
Rhea didn’t want to know. She cringed, asking, “What?”
“EDD thinks I’ve already cashed out my benefits and said I’m not eligible for any.”
“How the hell can that be?” cried Rhea. “You’ve never used unemployment.”
“I know! Convincing EDD
is a whole ‘nother nightmare. They said if it wasn’t me then my identity was stolen and that’s something else I’m gonna have to deal with in addition to the staggering loss of income.”
“Well . . . did they at least tell you how to fix it?”
“Of course not, it’s a state agency, why the hell would they? And I dunno if it’s because the person I talked to didn’t know, herself, or because she didn’t give a shit, but either way I’m gonna have to figure it out on my own. And I’m willing to bet it’s neither simple or quick.”
“I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what to say. I wish I could help.” There was the stupid-sounding response.
“Jack’s off at an interview right now for a job that pays a fraction of what he got from Pika. Our office closes in a few weeks but they’ve stopped funneling work to us so I was sent home early today because there was literally nothing for me to do there. Would you stay on the phone with me? Don’t say anything about my issues. Just . . . keep me company, please? I really can’t be alone right now.”
Rhea thought what Cass needed was to be spending every waking moment looking for a new job. She kept her opinion to herself.
They spent the next hour and a half talking: about the weather—as polite company did when trying to ignore the elephant in the room—but only for so long until conversation turned to ruminations on why Pika Tomes was closing and what Rhea should do to fix her missteps. Neither resolved anything except to waste time until Jack returned.
They ended the call.
Though it had been a dreadful thing for Cass, Rhea was reminded she was important to at least one person.
She drew herself a bubble bath and soaked in it, giving herself some time to think—maybe even clearly. Some of Cass’s suggestions had merit; they were things Rhea could have figured out herself if she hadn’t been in a state of panic. She didn’t suppose there was any apology that would make Brianna willing to talk to her again. And maybe that was for the best.
But God . . . Her lips. Her body. Her skin. She hadn’t gotten enough of Brianna and the longing for more of something she never should have done was painful.
Rhea exhaled a long, shaky sigh. And Adam. She traced the word smile on her wrist. She was a fool for getting romantically involved with him and it probably wasn’t wise to try to salvage their friendship; then she’d never get over him. Who had she been kidding when she let him stay in her hotel room after they parted ways upon arriving at the train station in Chicago?
Oh but his touch, his chest, his smile. His hard-on. His boner wasn’t his best physical quality of course, but it remained one of her favorites.
Sure, maybe with enough time she could get over Brianna. Their tryst had been the fulfillment of long-standing fantasies.
But Adam.
I’m in love with him.
I love him.
She sunk into the soapy water, closing her eyes against the sting of unshed tears.
Well, here I am. Back at square. Fucking. One.
Rhea’s first full day off work was uneventful. She took a brief walk around her community and sat on the vacant swings until she couldn’t take the bitter cold any longer. She did some grocery shopping: a loaf of bread, a half-gallon of nonfat milk, sticks of what she referred to as not-butter, a brownie mix, and a single serving package of devil’s food cake for dessert.
She was complimented on her tattoo.
She visited the nearest bookstore and added The Cat Who Walks Through Walls to her book collection and received two more compliments on her tattoo. By the time she got home, Rhea was contemplating researching the cost of tattoo removal.
For dinner, she indulged in a full tray of Betty Crocker brownies. For dessert? Devil’s food cake. While finishing off a glass of milk, Rhea texted Cass: Officially a sad single woman. Had chocolate for dinner. Followed by chocolate dessert. Tomorrow I’ll be an awesome single woman: join a yoga class & rescue a kitty from the nearest shelter. How are you doing?
Cass replied: Been better. I applied to a temp agency today from a job posting I found on Monster but it was already filled. Nothing else open I qualify for atm.
Rhea heaved a deep sigh and typed, What about Walmart cashier? She corrected that to I’m so sorry before sending.
Moments later, the message came in: Jack got a second interview.
That’s promising right? Rhea sent and took her dishes to the sink. Her phone buzzed.
Trying to work out logistics. It’s a long commute for less money. We’d still lose our house.
Rhea texted back: Can he negotiate a higher starting wage?
IDK, Cass replied. It was ten minutes before another text came through. Have you heard from Adam?
Rhea rolled her eyes and snorted. Lol no.
Would you consider reaching out to him?
It was Rhea’s turn to text IDK. She added, What for?
I think you should. I think he’s your 1.
“My ‘One?’” Rhea scoffed. “Oh please.” To Cass, she texted, Yeah? So did I.
Cass sent, I’m sorry.
Me too. Check in tomorrow, OK?
Several minutes later, Cass replied, I will.
Rhea closed the app with a sigh. She did her social media rounds and still no one wondered to where she’d vanished. It was so tempting to send a ‘btw guys I’m fine, thanks for asking’ post but passive aggressiveness never solved anything; at least it never did for Rhea. And—besides—to say she was fine was also a load of steaming bullshit.
To avoid temptation, she put her phone in the bedroom and began her hunt for something to watch on television. Rhea wanted to make herself miserable with a good tragedy.
“Something like John Carter. Phantom Menace? Ooh, maybe Fantastic Four.” She chuckled weakly at herself. A weak laugh was better than none. She decided on something uncharacteristic for Rhea-in-depression when she flipped by FXX: Megamind. A happy, fun movie.
She fell asleep before the title character got the girl.
The next day, Rhea followed through with her threats by going to the local gym and signing up for not only a yoga class but for Zumba, as well. She’d gained a good fifteen pounds, easy, since moving to Aurora. Huvie had been nice to say he could ‘work’ with her fluffy physique and Brianna kinder yet to not shame her for being the decidedly chunkier of their girl-on-girl romp. Would Rhea’s next sexual partner be so open-minded?
Adam, of course, never noticed it as their Skype sex only ever involved the showcasing of one body part at a time—which was universally her chest. If he noticed she gained a cup size and a little over, he’d never complained.
The yoga instructor was an extroverted waif who was as enthusiastic as Rhea was reluctant, and she made Rhea promise to return for her first class tomorrow.
Rhea grabbed some chicken rings at White Castle on the way to the animal shelter. She finished them off in a parking space with the car idling and heater on full-blast before going inside, assuming the lingering smell of chicken on her hands would make her a popular attraction among the kennel set.
To her disappointment, it appeared to be puppy season with fifteen homeless dogs awaiting adoption—her complex didn’t allow for those—but only three cats. To her dismay, none of those cats gave her the time of day despite her poultry hands. She couldn’t dismiss the obnoxious parallel between the felines and all her friends. Rhea returned to her apartment pet-less.
There was a note on her front door from the leasing office indicating they were holding a package for her so she walked down to pick it up, exchanging brief pleasantries with the manager.
Upon her return home, she set the box on her kitchen counter, the Amazon smile on its side greeting her.
Rhea wracked her brain—she hadn’t ordered anything from them recently and to the best of her recollection had nothing on backorder.
Holding her breath, she opened the box. Inside was a bouquet featuring sunflowers, snapdragons, solidago, Peruvian lilies and pompoms, as well as a colorless glass vase.
While preparing to toss the box, she found a notecard tucked into the packing material. On it was typed: The Rays of Sunshine bouquet for my Rhea of Sunshine.
Rhea smiled until she read the rest.
Please Skype me. We need to talk.
Her smile fell and her heart sank along with it. She snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Cass with a brief comment: See Cass? Over.
She texted Adam. You want to talk?
Adam replied a couple minutes later: Can you Skype tonight?
“Ah. Gonna break up with me to my face. Ballsy.”
She replied to him: I’ve been off work. Available whenever you are.
“Better get used to saying I’m available and actually meaning it.”
He answered, I’m with Gary now. We’ll Skype 9 PM your time?
Rhea sighed, realizing she was parched. Ok. Give my regards to Gary pls.
Adam didn’t text her back.
At ten minutes to nine, Rhea settled into her bed with her laptop figuring luck favored the prepared.
Adam would tell her he just wanted to stay friends, it was him and not her.
She would smile and say she totally understood, and that she was fine being just friends.
They’d make brief and uncomfortable small talk before closing Skype and all she’d have to do was roll onto her stomach to cry into her pillow until she fell asleep. Or suffocate herself, if she were lucky. Luck never favored her as far as she was concerned.
Soon after, he’d stop replying to her Facebook updates, and a few months down the road, he’d unceremoniously disappear from her friends list.
Then one-by-one, their few joint friends would tell her he was telling them what a crazy bitch she was.
“The anatomy of a modern break-up.” Rhea opened her laptop and checked on Facebook. Her current relationship status was set to It’s complicated. She switched it to single but didn’t save her changes.
Smiles By Trials (Rays of Sunshine Book 2) Page 10