by Lara Mondoux
I was starting over again, this time as a direct consequence of my own depraved actions. I had always endeavored to be a respectable, sincere, moral individual. It was my way of stopping the cycle of my past. I never wanted anyone to undergo even the slightest degree of what I’d gone through, and I thought that being kind and honest was the only way I could effect that. But I’d lied to someone who’d been nothing but decent to me. That was how influential my dark side was, and how potent my vices were. They weren’t gone; they’d never left. I’d just been masking them the entire time. And now because of something I’d done, someone else was in pain. And I was beside myself over it.
I had to face the harsh truth that my life wasn’t even close to being settled. Where I was on my path bore no likeness to where I’d hoped to be at my age. I was alone and with no ambition to date anymore. The one I loved had seen my true colors, and he didn’t like what he saw. Of course my parents were concerned when I showed up at Thanksgiving alone, without Ryan. I was mortified to tell my family exactly what happened, and the women in my family had to spend most of the holiday consoling me. Bad decisions seem so innocuous when they’re made, as if they’ll have no effect on anyone else. But my misjudgments had a way of creeping into other parts of my life and into the lives of my loved ones. Like the tentacles of an octopus, the consequences of my poor choices crept into every last crevice of my being. Because of one stupid move, I’d lost the love of my life, created tension at work, and ruined my family’s Thanksgiving. Seeing Jay wasn’t worth any of that.
“We can’t keep seeing you like this. It’s time to grow up. You should have seen that you weren’t acting like yourself,” were my father’s words on Thanksgiving. He spoke gently, planting a kiss on my forehead. It was tough love. “You’re an adult. It’s time you get to know who you really are inside and start living according to that.” He was a man of few words, but what he did say was usually powerful and insightful. I knew that what my father said was the truth, but implementing his advice was so much easier said than done. It was the first time he’d been there to see me cry over a man before; I usually reserved my tears for my mother. I was humiliated at how ill equipped I was to deal with life compared with everyone else I knew. And seemingly my own father knew more about dating than I did.
But he was right. With Jay, I’d had to go so far outside my comfort zone just to feel as if I was enough. With Ryan, I’d never felt like I was anything but exactly what he wanted. And yet I’d convinced myself that my insatiable appetite for Jay was some sort of underlying reason why he and I were meant to be; but it was just a sign of bad things to come that I should have seen early on. My desire for him was too extreme. And choosing to see him again was reckless. I’d ignored my intuition, because his attention fueled my ego.
I was going to have to pull it together, though, for the upcoming weekend. My cousin Mike was having his third annual Christmas party, which I’d be attending with my siblings and their plus-ones. I’d be the fifth wheel, which was something I should have been used to. It was Christmas Eve, which was usually my favorite night of the year. I considered staying home, but Emily threatened to come over and get me, and I couldn’t have her seeing my apartment in shambles the way that it was, with dirty dishes in the sink and piles of unwashed laundry everywhere. Plus, my brother had agreed to drive everyone, which meant that I could drink my sadness away with no consequence—at least none that required breaking the law.
I dropped Luna off at my parents’ house, where I was meeting Emily and Max before the party. My mom and dad were finishing up some last-minute Christmas details when I arrived. I plopped down on their sofa without having much to say, at least nothing they’d want to hear. I sensed that everyone was growing tired of my sob story.
“Feeling better yet, sweetie?” my mother asked, hiding any annoyance that she might have harbored.
“I’m trying,” I said, with a lump in my throat.
“Has he called you back yet? You look thin—are you eating?”
“No, and I don’t think he’s going to. And yes I’m eating.” I lied.
“Well, going to the party will be good for you. Maybe it’ll take your mind off things.” My mother always took the path of least resistance. She didn’t encourage me to keep trying to get Ryan’s attention; she simply suggested that I focus my concentration elsewhere, as if that was possible.
Max, Kate, Emily, her boyfriend Aaron, and I arrived at our cousin’s house dressed in our holiday finest. I tried to wear something festive from what little clean clothing I had left. I was able to piece together skinny black pants with a fitted black cashmere sweater. I’d taken to wearing lots of black; however I did add a chunky gold statement necklace just so I wouldn’t look as if I was in mourning, though I kind of was. Being around my family at the holidays did make my thoughts less abysmal. I felt less dreadful than I had in weeks. Perhaps I was finally coming out of the fog. Sipping cocktails kept me upbeat; at the very least, I was lively enough to keep from crying for most of the evening. A nerdy-cute friend of my cousin’s even struck up conversation with me, so perhaps my energy wasn’t completely off-putting to the other party guests.
“I’m Woody,” he said, reaching his hand out.
“Did you say Woody?” I asked, surprised. I’d never met a Woody, other than Ryan’s Woody.
“That’s right. And you are?”
“I’m sorry—I’m Elle.”
“So how long have you known Coppola?” he asked, referring to my cousin Mike.
“Well, I’m a Coppola also. I’ve known him since I was born. We’re first cousins.”
“And when you’re Italian, that means you might as well be brother and sister, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a laugh. “We pretty much grew up together. He and my older brother are the same age, so they ganged up on me a lot.”
“Hard having older brothers around, huh?”
“Yeah, but they toughened me up, I guess.” Though I didn’t feel very tough.
“So, do you mind if I ask if you’re dating anyone? You don’t have a ring on, but I wanted to be sure.” He just had to remind me of my very bare ring finger.
“I don’t mind at all. And no, I’m not. I just got out of a relationship. Well, two relationships sort of.”
“Interesting. How so?” he asked, obviously intrigued.
“I just had two guys brawl over me in my kitchen because I’m an idiot,” I said vaguely.
“Well, you must be worth fighting for,” Woody said flirtatiously.
“Me? No. I’m not the one worth fighting for.”
“Well, apparently you are, if you have dudes scrapping over you.”
“It was my fault. I messed things up with the good guy for a few seconds of pleasure with the bad guy,” I said bluntly.
“Ouch. Nice guys do finish last. So do you want to maybe go somewhere a little quieter to talk?”
All I could hear was the replay of the scene that took place in my apartment that awful night. Woody was right; Ryan had fought for me. He rolled up his sleeves and gave another guy a black eye, just for me. He thought I was worth fighting for. Maybe that meant there was still hope! Maybe I just had to realize that we were worth fighting for.
“Excuse me, Woody. It was really nice talking to you.” I set down my champagne and looked for my brother.
“Max!” I said, “Give me your keys. I’ve got to go somewhere!”
“How will we get home, then?”
“You’ll get a ride. Please, this is important!”
“How much have you had to drink?” He was probably questioning my sanity more than my sobriety.
“Like, two half glasses of champagne. I don’t even know—I keep setting them down and then they disappear.”
“What’s going on?” My sister came up from behind my brother.
“Em! Can you guys find another ride home? I need Max’s keys!” I said.
“Why, where are you going?” she asked.
&n
bsp; “Why are you two so nosy?” I asked. “Just trust me.”
“What’s going on?” From across the room, Kate had noted the excitement and was approaching rapidly.
“Max! I can’t explain right now. Hand them over, I promise you, I’ll be careful with your stupid car.” He reluctantly placed his keys into my hand. I quickly kissed him on the cheek and hugged Emily and Kate. “Love you all!” I was gone in seconds flat, and the three of them were undoubtedly thinking I’d finally gone off the deep end.
22
It was after ten o’clock on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, the roads were deserted, and I was pretty sure that Ryan would still be working for another couple of hours. He always closed the restaurant on Christmas Eve to give his staff ample time off with their families. Damn, he was such a good guy, and I was such an idiot. I sped from my cousin’s house in Dublin to Wal-Mart, the only place that I knew would still be open. I was in such a rush that my tires screeched in the empty parking lot as I swerved into a parking space. It felt like a scene in some hectic Christmas movie where travelers were late to the airport, or parents were shopping for Christmas gifts at the last possible second.
Speeding with a shopping cart through the Christmas section in four-inch heels proved challenging. I quickly removed my shoes so I could move more swiftly. Scanning the aisles, I noted how picked over everything was, but I’d have to make do. I filled a shopping cart with the jolliest items that remained. It was my first ever attempt at a grand gesture, and because I wasn’t sure quite how grand to go, I aimed for completely over the top.
At the self-checkout lane, I winced at the nearly three-hundred-dollar grand total, and it dawned on me that in just forty-eight short hours, everything would be more than 50 percent off the price I was paying for it. With the voraciousness I usually reserved for inhaling a pint of Ben & Jerry’s or scrounging a sale rack at Nordstrom, I threw the merchandise into my trunk. I was on a mission. I drove to Ryan’s house, a good fifteen miles from the store, in ten minutes flat. I’d yet to give back his house key, so as long as he hadn’t changed the locks, I could get in. I felt confident that my plan might speak to him in a way I couldn’t articulate through words alone.
I burst through his door, where Woody greeted me. I affectionately petted the dog, who I’d also come to miss, and assured him that his girlfriend Luna would be back to see him as soon as possible. Hurrying upstairs, I awkwardly balanced four bags and a long, awkward box. I didn’t have time to make two trips to the car. I cleared out the space in front of Ryan’s bay window, making room for everything I’d purchased. In essence I was breaking and entering, and if that in itself didn’t constitute a grand gesture, I didn’t know what would.
I set up the six-foot tree that I bought, along with a beautiful silver tree skirt. Thankfully, the tree was prelit, as I wouldn’t have a whole lot of time for decorating. I decided to save that for last. Instead, I switched gears and hung the stockings, one with a giant R and one with a W, for Woody. I shoved a foot-long rawhide into Woody’s, and two bottles into Ryan’s, one of eggnog and one of brandy. I lit holiday-scented candles around the tree and littered his condo with candy canes. I’d even purchased an iPod dock and set up the holiday play list on my iPhone to stream through the place when Ryan entered.
I felt completely asinine making such a fuss without knowing for sure that my efforts would be appreciated. But I supposed that was the risk of grand gestures; there was no guarantee they’d be grand enough to win back a loved one. I’d never done anything so thoughtful before, but desperate times called for desperate measures. At least I was doing something to try to make things right. And Ryan was worth making a fool out of myself for. Midnight was approaching, and I knew he’d be home shortly. I was nervous but knew there wasn’t any point in worrying if I looked like a psycho for breaking into his house and decorating it for Christmas. Worrying what people thought of me was how I’d gotten into this debacle in the first place. It was time to be a big girl and clean up the mess I’d made. And if there was a way to do it, this was it.
I heard the garage door go up moments later, and I worried that Ryan would be startled to come home to an inhabited house when he was expecting an empty one. “Ryan,” I called out to tell him I was there, though he’d probably had seen my car and figured it out on his own.
“Elle,” he said, as I hurried down to the first floor to greet him. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have Christmas with your family?”
He wasn’t excited to see me, but he wasn’t throwing me out either. I hadn’t seen him in weeks, and he looked the same, only better. He appeared tired from what was no doubt a long day at the restaurant, but strong and vigorous nonetheless. He had such a grown-up air about him, and I was completely attracted to him all over again.
“I left my cousin’s Christmas party. I just had to see you.” Tears began to well up in my eyes, but I willed them away, forcing myself to be brave. “I know you don’t want to see me.” I put my hand in the air to silence any protest. “But I have a surprise for you upstairs. I just wanted to give you something for Christmas.” He looked at me, puzzled. “If it were up to me, I would have done this with you a month ago. But I’m an idiot and messed everything up. Follow me.”
I led him up the stairs, and reentering the great room in his condo I observed what a lovely job I’d decorating in so little time. Granted, I hadn’t had time to hang up all the ornaments, but it was better than nothing. And if all went as planned, we could hang them together, just as I’d wanted to before everything went to shit. I led Ryan by the hand, instructing him to keep his eyes closed. “Why am I doing this?” he asked, not at all amused.
“Keep them closed until I say. And if you don’t like the surprise, I’ll leave and never bother you again,” I said, though the thought of doing so sickened me. Woody followed close behind Ryan, ever so loyally. “Okay, open!” We had reached the top of the stairs.
Ryan opened his eyes, which reflected the subtle light of the tree. His mouth opened slightly, which I hoped meant he was in awe. “It’s . . . beautiful. I’ve never had a Christmas tree here before.” He removed his coat and loosened his tie. “You did this all tonight?”
“Uh huh,” I said sheepishly.
“Why?”
“A desperate plea for your attention. I didn’t know what else to do. And I know you’re mad at me, but no one should be alone on Christmas Eve. And everyone should have a Christmas tree.”
“So you got me one. Gosh, Elle, I don’t know what to say.”
I couldn’t gauge him. Was he pleased or angry that I was there? “Don’t say anything until we’ve had cocktails.”
“Cocktails? All I have is wine.”
“Not anymore you don’t!” I pulled the eggnog and brandy out of his stocking. “And even Woody gets his kicks tonight.” I handed Woody the huge rawhide bone I’d gotten for him. With the grace of a Westminster show dog, Woody gently took the bone from my hand and walked downstairs to nibble on it in solitude.
Ryan smiled at last. I hadn’t seen him smile in ages. And I realized just how much I adored his smile. It was contagious and genuine. I adored his entire face. And it took losing him for me to see how much of an impact it had on me.
“Eggnog,” he said. “You remembered.”
“Yes, and I wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight knowing that you’d gone yet another Christmas with no eggnog.”
He laughed again. I poured a little eggnog with brandy into two glasses over ice.
“So what do you think?” I asked.
“I’m impressed,” he said, but he still wasn’t being himself. He was back to his standoffish ways, and I was determined to get the sweet Ryan that I loved back, at least for the night. If things had to be over, I wanted a good memory of the last time we spent together; I didn’t want the commotion in my apartment to be what lingered in both of our minds when we thought of one another. I’d practically converted his home into Santa’s workshop, but still I was pullin
g teeth to get him to be himself.
Handing him his cocktail, I went back to the tree and began hanging ornaments. I wasn’t sure what he thinking, but I hoped to inspire him to come and join me. “It’s really a crime not to have a tree,” I said, making small talk.
“Elle, I appreciate the gesture. But this doesn’t erase what happened.”
“I know that.” I walked from the tree back toward him. “I just needed to do something big so you’d just give me the chance to talk.”
“Okay, let’s talk.”
I felt a weight lift from my chest. That was all I wanted, to talk to him. He took a seat on the sofa, gazing at the work I’d done, and I thought I noticed a bit of a smile.
“What you saw,” I said, “wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Then what was it? You said you kissed him, right?”
“He kissed me.”
“That’s just another way of saying the same thing.”
“Fair enough. But the minute his lips touched mine”—I saw Ryan cringe as I spoke—“I knew I was kissing the wrong guy. I never should have agreed to meet with him.”
“So why did you?”
I wasn’t sure how to explain to Ryan why I did what I did. I took a few breaths, trying to figure out how to put together an explanation that would make sense.
“He just took such a toll on my self-esteem when things ended. I was so wounded. And then you came along, and I completely forgot about him, but without getting any closure.”
“If you loved me, then why did you need closure?” he asked with an air of innocence. “What we had should have been enough.”
“I did love you.” The lump in my throat was returning. “I do love you. Ryan, you taught me what love is. Because of you, I know what it looks like now. And God, did I screw up big. And I’m so sorry.”
“I love you too.”