True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story

by Willow Aster

  A single tear falls. It’s been a long time since I’ve cried. The last letter day was the last time.

  I look up at Tessa and grasp our hands with my free hand. “I love you, Tess. I hear ya. I need to stop this downward spiral I’m in. I’ve been looking for anything that will get him out of my head. It’s not working, nothing is.”

  “Maybe it’s time to stop running from him and time to start running to him,” she says.

  I shake my head and smile weakly. “When did you become so … inspirational?”

  She laughs. “That did sound pretty good, didn’t it?”

  “You know he’s dating someone else now. He’s moved on.”

  “I think he’s only doing the same thing you’ve been doing—trying to survive.”

  I think about that conversation with Tessa often. The apartment feels lonely, and I’m tempted to slide back into my bad habits. Instead, I begin making preparations to move back to California. Everything falls into place, almost as if it’s meant to be.

  A few nights before I’m scheduled to leave, I’ve just had one last dinner with Louise and I’m in a cab going home. We stop outside The Living Room, a cool, eclectic music venue. Striding by with his guitar on his back, I see him. He walks with purpose. He has a little bit of his swagger back, which makes me smile. He looks healthier. Maybe letting me go was the best thing for him.

  Of course it wrecks me, but I mark it down in my journal as a significant day. I think Ian is going to be okay and now I have to be too.

  My parents try to talk me into moving back into my old bedroom. Besides the fact that I’m 24 and hoping to avoid going backwards with my life, being in my room gives me claustrophobia. I have to stay a week before I can move into my new place, and I want to climb the walls.

  I’ve found a guesthouse in Los Gatos, a pretty suburb of San Jose. The cottage in the back is so charming. I absolutely love it. Jenny, the owner of the main house, is wonderful. She used to be a model back in the day. She’s beautiful and practically floats with every step. We hit it off within minutes of meeting and she said the place is mine.

  Moving day is a gorgeous, sunny day. I’m glad to be back in the mild temperatures and sunshine. And this place—it feels really good. As I’m unpacking, Jenny comes over with a plate of cookies. I could get used to this.

  “You’ve got it looking so cute in here!” Jenny sings her words.

  “Thank you. I’m thinking of painting that…” I point to the desk sitting in the middle of the floor. Everything else is in its place, except the desk. “I think it has to be painted blue,” I tell her.

  She nods like she completely agrees and I feel relief—and it’s not about the desk. This is where I’m supposed to be.

  The days fade in and out without much excitement, but more peace than I’ve had in a long time. Until I begin dating Reggie. Who names their kid Reggie anyway? Reginald, Sr., that’s who. I should have steered clear when I heard the name, but I give him a try. He’s funny and that counts for a lot with me. He’s cute in a nerdish way—wavy hair, blue eyes and glasses. He’s the kind of guy that will probably be good-looking when he’s a lot older. Right now, he still just seems gawky. But, for whatever reason, I go out with him and then can’t seem to get rid of him.

  We argue. A lot. I’ve never fought with anyone, much less a boyfriend, and it’s kind of therapeutic. I say exactly what I think and scoff when I don’t agree with him. Maybe it’s the way I should have been in every other relationship, I’m not sure, but the fact is, after months of getting a charge out of spouting whatever I want to spout out, I realize that I really don’t like Reggie. As a person. At all. In fact, everything he does bothers me.

  He seems heartbroken when I break up with him.

  “You don’t even like me! You don’t agree with anything I say!”

  “I love not agreeing with you!” he yells.

  Please.

  A few months later, I go out with Art, short for Arthur. I know. It’s not much better than Reggie, but he’s dark and brooding and I kinda dig him. Catch this—he’s an artist—how perfect is that? Of course, I have to give him grief over that, but he handles it in stride. Nothing ruffles Art, nothing … except when I tell him after two months that I don’t want to exclusively date him. He suddenly goes into a rage and throws a chair across the room. It was a light folding chair, but still, I get out of there fast.

  He calls every now and then, but I don’t see him again until I’m stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. He’s facing me, waiting for the light on the other side. I lift my hand to wave, when a car slams into my car … on my side.

  The airbags puff up and nearly break my nose. Glass is everywhere. My knee is killing me. My neck, too. The impact pushes the car across the road and I sit in shock indefinitely. Art talks to me through the window and then opens the door.

  “Don’t move,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Hold still. I’ve called the ambulance.” And then he looks down with tenderness and a touch of malice and says, “I remember when you used to hold my hand like this…”

  Bastard.

  Totaled car and back problems for life later, I meet Cam, the hunky construction worker who comes to work on Jenny’s house. He’s wonderful—so down to earth, hilarious, really cute and all about me. He thinks I hung the moon, he seriously does. I go out with him and have the best time. He can make me laugh SO hard, and he thinks I’m hysterical. He takes me on all kinds of fun, unique dates—like a hot air balloon ride and go-kart racing! I like him so much that I break up with him before we can even officially start dating. He doesn’t need my baggage.

  Tessa calls early one morning.

  “Hello?” I say groggily.

  “I’m SO SORRY, I couldn’t wait to call you!”

  “What’s going on?” I prop up on both elbows.

  “We have a date!”

  This wakes me up. “Tessa! When?”

  “September 21st!”

  “Like 6 months from now, September 21st? What? How did you do it? Where?”

  “You’re not gonna believe it, Ro. There was a cancellation at—wait for it—the RITZ CARLTON!”

  I pull the phone away while she screams. I’m screaming too.

  “The Ritz?” I yell. “HOW did you manage that?”

  “It’s all too crazy. The wife of one of the lawyers at Jared’s firm is a wedding advisor there. How crazy is that? We hit it off when I came to one of Jared’s work thingies, you know, when we first moved—” she takes a huge breath and continues “—she put me on the waiting list then and said she’d call me the minute there was a cancellation … that I’d be at the top of the list. She thinks Jared and I have waited long enough.” Tessa giggles. “Anyway, she called at 7 this morning and told me the good news. Well, good news for me; bad news for the poor bride who was supposed to get married that day…” Her voice trails off.

  “Tessa, let’s not think about her right now. Let’s just be happy for you, okay?”

  “Okay!” she says happily. “I’ll be coming home to go dress shopping—I’ll let you know when I have some definite dates.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “And you’ll come early before the wedding too, right?”

  “YES! Of course! If you’d said it was this weekend, I would be hopping on a plane right now to get there.”

  “Love you, Ro.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And then Michael comes for a visit. My parents inform me that he’s coming when I’m over for Sunday dinner the week before. When Michael went back to Seattle, he got his degree and went on to medical school. He decided the ministry wasn’t really for him. My dad has stayed in touch with him, but this will be the first time they’ve seen him since he left.

  “He’s just staying with us for the weekend. He wanted to see everyone before he starts his residency,” my mom says.

  “He’s staying here?” My eyes narrow at her, trying to decipher if she’s setting this up
to try to get us back together or if she’s as surprised as me. I can’t be sure.

  She nods and gets very busy scrubbing a pan.

  I’m looking forward to seeing him … as long as he doesn’t try anything with me.

  As I get ready to have dinner with Michael and my parents, I think back to our time together and how much has changed. I wonder if we’ll still recognize each other, if the people we used to be even show through anymore. I pack an overnight bag. I’ll be staying at home while he’s there, so we can get the most time out of this visit.

  I pull up to the house and help my mom with the last-minute preparations. When Michael arrives, we all go to the door and yell excitedly when we see each other. Michael hugs my parents first and then his eyes settle on me. He wraps me up in a big hug and grins his huge grin.

  “Hey, Ro. It sure is great to see you.”

  “I’m so happy to see you!” I tell him and I mean it. “You look great!”

  “You look more beautiful than ever. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you.”

  “I know, I can’t either,” I say as I take his arm and walk with him inside.

  Conversation flows easily as we all catch up. Michael always had a way of telling a story and his laugh is infectious. My heart is full as I think about all he’s accomplished and how well he’s turned out. I knew he would be a wonderful man and he is.

  Later, after my parents have gone to bed, I stay up talking to Michael.

  “I’ve heard bits and pieces about what happened with you and Ian,” he says after we’ve exhausted a few topics.

  “Yeah, it was … hard.” I feel horrible even talking about it with him after I broke his heart … over Ian.

  “I won’t lie, I wanted that guy to suffer for a long time … after I lost you. But I never wanted you to go through anything like this.” Michael looks at me, and I see the sincerity in his eyes. “Are you okay, Ro? Are you really okay?”

  “I haven’t been,” I admit. “It’s been long enough now that I should be snapping out of it sometime soon here.” I laugh awkwardly. “But I just can’t seem to…”

  “Well, he was an idiot for wrecking his chances with you. I know that no one is perfect, but you come pretty close.” He reaches over and touches my cheek softly. “And I want to kill him for hurting you.”

  “You’re a good man, you know that, Michael?” I smile. “I’ve missed you. There are times when I’m going through something and I wish we could talk … just to have someone who knows the old me, you know? The fun, lighthearted me. Do you know what I mean? I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’m moody and dark and cynical. I don’t like it.”

  “You’re still in there. I still see you. Only now, you wear better clothes, are even hotter, and have an edge to you that’s not all bad!” He dodges as I throw a pillow at him.

  The rest of my time with Michael is more of the same: fun, easy, sweet. After we all hug him goodbye, and he’s getting in his car, I yell one more time for him to drive carefully. He laughs over his shoulder, waves one more time and that’s the last time I see him. He goes home and decides to finally commit to his girlfriend.

  - 29 -

  There’s a little coffee shop table that I’ve taken over to write when my cottage is caving in on me. It’s by the window, has an outlet just under the table and is, simply put, the best spot. I come about four times a week and it’s always open, just waiting for me to get to work.

  Running a little later than usual, I impatiently wait in line to get my morning blend with cream. When I turn around, I notice him. He’s hard not to notice—he’s at least 6’5” and hot. Really hot.

  I get all set up at my table and am getting ready to dive into a new book idea that I can’t stop thinking about, when I feel someone standing over me. I look up, and he’s standing there, looming over my table, scowling.

  “I usually sit here,” he says.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Nice choice.”

  “Yeah, it’s the best table in the place.”

  “I agree, which is why I always sit here.”

  “Well, you haven’t been here any other time…”

  “Look,” I interrupt, smiling sweetly, “if you wanted an excuse to talk to me, you could have just said so. Really, I don’t bite.”

  His mouth drops open and the corners of his lips begin to quirk up.

  I roll my eyes. “Get lost. I was here first.”

  He quickly clamps his mouth shut, but the grin stays … grows, even. “I tell you what, I have a great idea. How about we share this table? Yeah, I like it.”

  I look him over. Crisply pressed shirt, filled out with his broad chest and defined shoulders, polished cuff links, brown hair combed with not a single strand out of place. Maybe this is perfection. Sure fits the bill.

  I let out a long sigh. “No.”

  “C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll be quiet. There’s plenty of room.” He lifts his eyebrows and puts both hands together in a comical pleading pose.

  “Oh, all right,” I snap.

  He laughs and holds out a hand. “I’m Shane. Sorry I was such a grump. I need to drink some of this before I can be nice.” He holds up his coffee mug.

  “I’m Sparrow. Have a seat.”

  We don’t get any work done, but do set up a date for Friday.

  “Unless, I see you before then at ‘our’ table,” Shane says as he leaves.

  One date leads to two and before I know it, I’ve been dating Shane for three or four months. My stance on All Men are Evil ended a while ago, but I still don’t fully trust them. I don’t think I ever will. Shane is intelligent, fun, witty, so sexy, and he stirs up some lustful thoughts that I haven’t had since ———.

  He plays golf, though. Obsessed with it. Any guy I’ve met who is a golfer doesn’t just play it for fun every now and then. They play it every single time the weather is above 55, if the skies aren’t unleashing hail, and if they happen to have a day off work. In California, that’s pretty much every day, unless you’re a workaholic. Shane isn’t. And since I don’t have a “real job”—Shane’s words—he thinks I should be able to play golf with him every day. Maybe if he were an old retired man, but he’s 25!

  I don’t think so.

  It’s a good thing he knows how to use his hands.

  Tessa meets Shane when she comes. After shopping for a couple days straight, we meet Shane for drinks.

  “God, he’s gorgeous,” she whispers when he walks up to the bar. “Do you do nothing but stare at him all day? I would.”

  “I do enjoy looking at him.” I grin at her, watching him tap his fingers against the wood while he waits. “I think it’s what I like most about him.”

  “Uh-oh,” she says. “I thought this one was…” she stops when Shane turns around and sets our drinks on the table.

  We make small talk for the first fifteen minutes, until Shane gets going on a self-help book he’s been reading. The fact that he reads is a plus, but his reading material annoys me. He talks for a solid twenty minutes about it, singing its praises for helping him in his sales job.

  Tessa’s eyes cloud over. She looks at me and raises both eyebrows.

  So he’s somewhat dull, too.

  When I drop Tessa off at the airport, she says, “You’re welcome to bring Shane to the wedding—that is, if you’re still dating him by then.”

  I roll my eyes. “We’ll see.”

  Shane has stayed over the last few nights. My place feels like it’s a mouse hole when he’s here any longer than a day. The walls are closing in on me.

  “Why don’t we get out for a while? Movie? Beach?” I suggest everything that comes to mind while he stands there and tosses a golf ball. Up, down, catch. Up, down, catch. Uuuuppp, down, catch.

  “STOP!”

  He turns to me with a frown. “What?”

  “Stop with the ball for a second. Wanna go to Santa Cruz?”

  “I thought maybe we could go for at least 9 holes … come on. It
’ll be fun.”

  Every part of me cringes. I have to fix my stare to avoid rolling my eyes. “I’m not spending the day driving your cart around. No.”

  “We could walk … good exercise?” He moves in front of me and leans down to kiss my neck.

  I brush him off. “You go ahead. I need to go see my parents today, anyway. I need to borrow one of my mom’s suitcases for the wedding. We’re trading—she’ll bring one of my smaller ones when she comes.” I shake my head. I don’t know why I’m explaining all this to him. He tuned out when I said ‘no’.

  “Okay, well maybe I’ll meet up with you later? Dinner tonight?”

  “I think I’ll hang out with them tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve been over there.”

  “Will I see you before your trip?” he asks as he ties his shoelaces.

  “You know what? Probably not. I have a conference call with Louise tomorrow to discuss my new manuscript. And then I have some errands to do before I leave the next day. This is probably it.”

  “Okay.” He leans down and kisses me. “Have fun. Tell Tessa she still has some time to back out.” He laughs at his own joke, grabs his duffle bag, and waves as he walks out the door.

  I’m so glad I didn’t invite him to the wedding.

  Instead of hanging out at my parents’ house, I pick up the suitcase and come home to pack. Normally, I like to plan an outfit for each day and night—no extra. But since I’m packing for almost a week and Tessa has been a little scattered on details lately, I throw in a couple extra dresses and an extra yoga outfit, just in case. Tessa wanted to make my dress, but we found a beautiful gown while we were shopping for her dress. I convinced her that she didn’t need the added pressure of making the bridesmaid dresses.