Prude

by Hilaria Alexander

  I have tried to stay away from anything that would remind me of him, especially the music. It never fails that when something good ends and you can't even bring yourself to think about a certain time together, the music makes it all come rushing back. All the words of every song you listened to while you were in love, they suddenly feel like a lie.

  The realization of how naïve you were slaps you in the face, cuts you like a knife. And even though there is a part of you who still loves the words and the feelings associated with the music, in the end, loathing and hate prevail.

  Right now I hate everything. Including Andrew.

  He is relentless though and won’t leave me alone. “You know just as well as I do that when you work out you release endorphins. The endorphins interact with your brain and reduce your perception of pain. They are like the healthy version of morphine!”

  “I'd rather have morphine. Are you done reciting from the Personal Trainer’s Handbook?” I ask him and he scowls.

  “Too much?” He makes a face at me. “Sorry. You are entitled to call me a bitch as many times as you want.”

  “I already do that, bitch. It's one of the benefits of my BFF status,” he says, slapping me on the ass.

  I smile at him, mostly because I know I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on him.

  “See? That’s my girl. Now, come on, it's time to come out of your coma. Besides, don't you have a book launch party soon? Don't you want to look bangin' and step all over his heart?”

  “Hmph,” I mumble and add nothing else. I did not go into details with Andrew, just left it at we broke up because he lied to me.

  Andrew hadn’t asked, but I’m sure he thinks it’s worse than it is. He probably thinks he cheated on me or something along those lines. Which would be so much worse. In my head, I want to make him out to be worse than he actually is too.

  Maybe that will help me get over him sooner.

  “Come on. Think about one sport or activity that you would like to try,” Andrew says, nudging me.

  The light goes off in my brain. I’m angry and pretty fucking frustrated. Running or any other pansy-ass form of cardio won’t do. I need to beat the shit out of something. “Kickboxing.”

  A week later, I’m finally on my feet again, my life resembling some sort of normalcy (pre-Ben normality). By some kind of miracle, Rebecca is in town to discuss her upcoming release with her editor.

  God knows I need her right now.

  The news is out. Mr. Hunter had a press conference and revealed Ben Hallstrom was his grandson and the new owner of Biblio. Becca actually sent me a link to one of the few articles published online.

  I have been purposely trying to stay away from the Internet, but I guess I was still on Biblio’s mailing list. A few days ago I got this email with an editorial piece about Mr. Hunter’s “retirement.” The email had a link. I really shouldn’t have clicked that. It opened up an interview with both of them and was accompanied by pictures. Lots of them. Pictures of Mr. Hunter and Ben chatting, looking pensive while answering a question, and one where they were laughing. Mr. Hunter was actually laughing! And Ben looked so good and relaxed. He looked happy. That’s when I told myself I had done the right thing, despite the knot in my throat.

  I might have touched the screen of my laptop like a foolish teenager; I might have shed a few tears. It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back.

  When Becca and I go out to dinner, it doesn't take long to start talking about the whole ordeal. She asks me if I knew anything, and I explain it’s one of the reasons why we broke up.

  “I mean, really, what am I supposed to do? Just act like nothing happened and that he hasn't been lying to me since day one?” I ask. It fucking hurts to talk about him. The wound is still wide open.

  “Honey, I don't want to tell you what to do,” she says apologetically, and I sense a but.

  “But?” I ask a little too aggressively.

  She pauses, looks at me, and then says, “Sometimes you have to forgive if you want things to work out. He did have a reason he kept this big secret from you. I don't believe for a moment he was ever playing you.”

  Her words sound comforting but they still make me want to cry. I don’t know what to do. Just a few days ago I said goodbye to him, telling him we should both focus on our careers. He knows I’m still mad at him, but we still parted ways in a civil manner.

  There’s a little voice inside that keeps yelling that I am batshit crazy, and I should just let go of my pride and forgive him. But the other part of me can't get over the lies or the fact that, in the very beginning, his only interest in me was purely work related. It would be stupid of me to say that what we had wasn't real, because I know that’s not the case. Suddenly, after years of barely knowing or ignoring each other, we had this unbelievable attraction. We had fun together and got along so perfectly. I don't doubt for a second that he was sincere when he said he loved me. Still, I feel I got played by him, but mainly, I feel so stupid. I’m not sure I have it in my heart to forgive him.

  If I don't do it soon, there is no guarantee he will be waiting for me. I might lose him forever. Just the thought of it makes me feel a pit in my stomach.

  “I hate seeing you like this,” Rebecca says, looking at my pained expression.

  “I just don't know what to do,” I say, raking my hands through my hair.

  “When is your book coming out? Focus on that. I think it's going to do really well, by the way! I loved the story and the characters. The musician you found is really amazing.”

  That makes me smile. I believe Matt can really gain some popularity from all this and make his music known.

  “I know, he really is.”

  “How is that going to work out? Are the lyrics going to be incorporated in the book?”

  I shake my head slightly.

  “It's going to be more of a companion soundtrack. I thought about including the lyrics more, but I don't want Matt's lyrics to be so tied down to the book. I see the songs as something you can, if you want, listen to while reading the story, and that gets you more into the narrative.”

  I get so excited talking about this book.

  “Of course I hadn't even thought about including the music. That was entirely Ben's idea,” I say with a smile, and when his name crosses my lips, my smile fades and I feel my heart crack a little.

  Rebecca notices and grabs my hand, saying, “It'll be okay, honey. Eventually . . . it will not hurt anymore to think or say his name. You’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 30

  AS AUGUST turns into September and then October, the city changes drastically into fall. I look at the trees covered in red foliage and I begin to think I have imagined the weeks with Ben.

  They seem so far away and unreal. I still miss him every day.

  His smile, his laughter, the way he looked at me and made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I miss sleeping snuggled into his side. I had to learn how to sleep by myself again. Well, Lupin made a comeback to the bed. I’m sure he was happy. Sometimes the memories are so vivid, I swear I can almost feel him standing behind me, kissing me on my neck like he used to. It doesn’t help that he lives so close. I’m constantly tempted to call or text him.

  He is just a text away, I tell myself.

  I have to remind myself why I decided to break up with him and have a pep talk that usually ends with it’s all for the best.

  Regardless, setting aside the whole lying-about-who-he-was thing, the man has been busy. Lauren and everyone else I work with at Biblio have been telling me that he has been working like a maniac, pulling late hours almost every night; knowing him, he’s probably just trying to prove himself to be worthy of his grandfather’s trust in him.

  Somehow, everyone loves to give me updates about him. Especially Becca and Anya. I have to make them promise they will stop talking about him.

  I see him a total of two times when I go to Biblio’s office and meet Lauren for something regarding the book. The firs
t time, I see him sitting in his office talking on the phone. The door is open and I am frozen to the floor. He doesn’t see me until he hears Lauren call my name from her office two doors down from his. Our eyes meet, and I am so completely unprepared for how I would feel, I can’t even wave or say hi to him.

  I do better the second time around. I still stop dead in my tracks, but he is in the hall, and I manage an awkward wave and a “Hi.” I hear him say “Hello, Prudence,” in an equally awkward way, and he walks past me like I am an acquaintance. It hurts, but what do I expect? That we would start chatting like old friends? I can barely manage to function. I knew that eventually I would have seen him, and still I act like a complete moron.

  The book release is slated for late October. Lauren has her team organize a little promotional tour. Little by company standards, but it’s the biggest promotional tour I have ever done. Not because of the venues, but because of the number of cities we will visit.

  We will start with a little bookstore in Brooklyn on release day, then leave a couple days later and go from place to place, until we get back to New York before Thanksgiving. When I say we, I’m talking about me and Matt. I’ll sign books, he’ll sign CDs and play a few songs. I am glad when I see Orlando on the program, because I’ll be able to see my family.

  “We had a meeting, and Ben went on and on about how he wanted this book tour to be the best possible. We’ll have to end it before Thanksgiving though, but then we can schedule a few more book signings after the holidays. He really loves the book, Prudence,” Lauren tells me, looking at me expectantly, like I’m going to spill some huge secret. She knows he was my agent, and maybe has heard we were together, but I never say a thing.

  “Yeah . . . yeah, I know. He has been very encouraging with this project. He suggested I use Matt Young’s music for the book,” I say shrugging, trying not to give anything away.

  For some reason, I expect to see him at the book signing in New York, since this is one of his first releases and probably the one he was most involved in, pun intended. He isn’t though, and I’m a little disappointed, but I don’t have much time to think about it, because a couple of days later, Matt and I hop on a plane.

  We travel for weeks. Signings, book fairs, you name it. I can’t remember when the last time I have been away from New York for so long. I even had to get a cat-sitter for Lupin.

  Since the company has invested so much in the book and the CD, we need to promote it as much as we can. If this book release had happened under any other circumstances, I would be beyond excitement. The traveling, staying in nice hotels, meeting people who love what you do . . . there is nothing better. But I cannot shake off the little ping of disappointment and bitterness of how this all came to be.

  Surprisingly, it’s Matt who gets me out of my blues. He is actually really funny and so easy to travel with, which I always considered the ultimate friendship test. He is extremely charming and so humble, and the ladies love him. He is cute too. How have I not noticed that before? I know why. It’s because when I met him I was under the spell of Ben Hallstrom’s good looks.

  Matt has changed his attitude toward social media after I told him how damn hard it was to find him. He now has a blog, a Facebook page, a YouTube channel. I am a little surprised he didn’t think of this years ago. It’s 2014 for crying out loud! He has been keeping some kind of road diary and has been recording vines videos to post on my page, as well as his.

  Someone must have given him a crash course in social media.

  When he isn’t playing or practicing one of his own songs, we listen to a lot of music together. I ask him to play lots of different songs, but I always make him play one of his last. “Make Up My Mind” is a song he plays on the harmonica and the guitar, at the same time. It was one of the first songs I heard of his in Central Park, and now that I am still trying to get over Ben, that’s all I want to listen to. I even have Matt teach me how to play the harmonica part, which I practice, with modest results, in the privacy of my hotel room. That is until the hotel guest next door bangs on the wall or I get a call from front desk saying that I’m disturbing the other guests.

  Prudence Clearwater, misbehaving. Who knew?

  “You’re still hung up on him, aren’t you?” Matt asks me one night, nudging my elbow. I nod. I think he has a similar story. I can tell there is some girl he is hung up about, but he never says a word. We never talk about our personal stuff.

  “It would be so much easier if you could get over someone automatically, wouldn't it?” I ask, but he doesn’t quite get what I’m alluding to. “I mean, if you could get over someone the moment you discover they have done something despicable or horrible. Or the moment you know it’s over. The moment they tell you they don’t love you anymore. Just a snap of your fingers and poof! You’re done. Moving on.”

  “Yeah . . . yeah it would be tons easier,” he says nodding.

  “We should do something stupid.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like drink every bit of liquor in that mini-bar.”

  “Silly girl,” he says, giving me a mischievous look, “doing something stupid would be finishing up this bottle of whisky.” He grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels out of his bag that is three-quarters full. I have never been a fan of whisky, but it doesn’t matter, because I want to get drunk. I can see in his eyes he thinks I’m not going to accept his challenge.

  “I bet you’re a lightweight,” he says, mocking me.

  “Try me.”

  When all the alcohol is gone, I am debating if I should go to my room and call it a night.

  “I have a better idea,” Matt says. “We should record ‘Make Up My Mind,’ the one you make me play every night. We should make a video. You’re not as bad on that harmonica as you think you are. And you sing every time I play it anyway.”

  “I think this is your worst idea yet.”

  “You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise. It will be a cathartic experience.”

  “Maybe I will cry myself to sleep.”

  “That is also a good possibility.”

  Chapter 31

  WHEN I wake up in my bed the next morning, it takes me a while to recollect the events of the night before. The light is shining through the blinds that were left open. Matt must have taken me to my room. I sure don’t remember taking myself to bed. I remember we drank and then we sang. I sure hope nothing else happened, because God knows when I’m drunk I do stupid things.

  My head is pounding.

  I search for water first, then look into my travel bag for some Ibuprofen. I look for my phone and check the time. It’s almost nine; we still have time before we have to check out and get back on the road. I take a shower first and then I check my emails on my laptop. I turn on Facebook and I see Matt has uploaded last night’s video and it has a few hundred likes.

  Oh God.

  I am afraid to even look at this train wreck—couldn’t he at least run it by me first?

  I sit in my robe and press play stiffly. Surprisingly, we are not that bad. Well of course, he isn’t bad, he is great, but the video is not ruined by my drunken, amateur skills.

  What I notice is that there is chemistry.

  Musical chemistry.

  Singing this song together every night has made us a pretty good duo. I’m actually a little proud of myself, since I was able to sing and play harmonica okay while I was drunk. I think of Ben and I feel a little sting of pain. I wonder if he will see it, what he’ll think. I shouldn’t care, right? It’s not like I’m trying to make him jealous or anything. But I know how it looks. In fact, every other comment is “OMG, are you two dating?”

  This video will make things worse. It’s already been happening at signings. The most audacious readers have no problem blurting out the question. Matt and I just have a really great, strictly platonic connection. But the readers like to let their imaginations run wild with a good love story. If they only knew. But maybe the fact that Matt and I look like a couple will boost
sales.

  Well, in that case, Mr. Hallstrom should be delighted, shouldn’t he?

  When I see the flowers at the front desk in Orlando, my heart flutters. I loathe the pathetic level I have reached. I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with him, yet here I’m hoping that the card has a non-generic message from my publisher. I smile sadly when I read, “Congrats on making the New York Times Bestseller List - The Biblio Staff.”

  “Nice flowers,” says Matt behind me.

  “Yeah . . . they are. I’ll see you at dinner,” I say, grabbing my room key and the flower arrangement.

  God, I’m such a loser. This is not the first time I have gotten my hopes up. Everywhere we go, I keep looking around and hope he'll show up, like the time in that small bookstore in the Hamptons. I keep searching for his face everywhere. I stop dead in my tracks anytime I think I see a man-bun rise above the crowd.

  On more than one occasion, Matt has to ask if I’m okay.

  Clearly I’m not. I keep seeing images flash in front of my eyes everywhere we go. I keep thinking of what we had together. I miss him, and every day that goes by, I regret being so stupid and stubborn. Yes, I had a reason to be mad at him, but did I really have to shut the door all the way? Could I not make the breakup a little less permanent?

  No, because I don’t do things like that. I’m not the kind of girl who leaves you hanging. Never was, never wanted to be. Suck it up, Prudence.

  My family comes to the signing and we have plans to have dinner together afterward. I told them not to come, to just meet Matt and me at the restaurant, but they aren’t having any of it. My mom is making a big deal about everything, because this is my first “adult” story. Even Brian is supposed to come by.