I could feel his discontent over the phone like his sorrow was reaching out to infect me as well. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but you don’t sound good. Should you call someone?”
“I’m calling you.”
“I get that, but I really don’t know you. There’s probably someone else’s opinion you trust who can give you the right advice.”
“No, I love my parents, but that’s not their way. They emigrated from the UK after college. They met during a year abroad program. They’re lovely, but not exactly the emotional types.”
“My parents are very reserved too. To be honest, so am I.”
“I’m not like this normally. Probably why I don’t have many close friends. I’m uncomfortable in social situations and most people assume I’m cold, unfeeling.”
“But you weren’t like that when Emily was with you,” I said sadly. “I remember your message about her taking your hand in a crowd.”
I heard him swallow before responding. “She was the extrovert and could become best friends with anyone in less than five minutes. We made sense together. She brought me out of my shell and I grounded her. Nothing makes sense now.”
“Can I say something without you getting offended?”
“Of course.”
“Whether someone is alive or dead, no one should have that much control over your life.”
“But when you love someone—”
I cut him off. “Listen, I’m no expert on love by any means, but I think you need to always hold onto a part of yourself. You can’t give everything to the other person because what will you have left when they’re gone?”
“Do you know what I think?”
“What?” I asked, falling back onto my pillow.
“I think you’re good at giving advice, but not taking your own.”
Nervously, I laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
“Why won’t you tell me your name?”
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “I think we can be so honest because we don’t know each other. It’s like free, anonymous therapy.”
“Do you have any more therapeutic advice?” I smiled at his question, noting he sounded less strained already. What if I was helping him? What if just by talking to him, I let him know he wasn’t alone?
“Yes, I think we should drink less,” I said resolutely, making sure I emphasized the “we” in the sentence. I didn’t want him to feel like I was judging him for getting drunk to deal with his issues.
“How do you know I’m drinking?”
“Just a guess, but I noticed your voice sounds scratchier sometimes. Like now and the first night I called you.”
“Have you been drinking?” he asked, neither confirming nor denying my suspicion.
“No, and I think I’m avoiding it for a bit. We aren’t good drunks right now.” I had to feel things at the moment, not numb my emotions. If I kept drinking to avoid my issues, I might never get over the past.
“We?”
“Yes, we both seem to get dark and nihilist when we drink. We’re not happy, funny drunks.”
“I don’t know if anyone would describe me as a happy and funny person when I’m sober either. Although I did like your jokes this week. Can you keep sending them?”
“Of course.” I preened, ecstatic what I was feeling hadn’t been one-sided. I desperately needed a friend and I liked him, despite the circumstances. “And you can call me when you’re feeling down too.” Feeling down was putting it mildly, but I didn’t want to offend him by mentioning how worried I was about his mental state.
“Thank you and the same goes to you. Call me whenever you want. I probably make a shit therapist, but I can remind you what a no-good asshole your ex was for treating you poorly.”
I stilled at his words, feeling something stir inside that I didn’t anticipate. Suddenly, I had the strongest urge to know him outside in the real world. What did his life look like? As quickly as the desire came, I forced the feelings down. Whatever D and I had worked because we’d never meet.
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate because his kindness meant more than I could admit. When you grow up feeling unloved, it becomes natural to assume the blame.
Before I went to bed, I sent D one last text. I hated how much pain he was in and could only imagine how bad it must’ve been the year earlier.
Emily was really lucky to have you.
Maybe like myself, D needed to know someone was in his corner. I wanted to help him because I was starting to care about him. I hated the idea of how much secret pain he was hiding from others.
Jake didn’t deserve you. Promise me you’ll never go back to him.
His text made me cry, full-on sobbing, ugly tears. Even after I saw Jake, his pants around his ankles, her hips in the air, I didn’t shed a tear. When I told my parents, I was emotionless, reciting the facts like a robot. Yet, a stranger asking me to stay away from Jake, forced an endless torrent of tears to finally burst out of me.
I promise.
Chapter Seven
I never imagined someone I hadn’t met would become so important in my life. With D, I shoved aside my reserved personality. Years and years of being bred to never display emotion made it hard for me to open up. But he didn’t know Alyssa Carmichael or Alyssa Carter. He knew A, who was an imperfect blend of both.
Although I relished the anonymity, I did have a curiosity about who was on the other end. I started to imagine what he looked like, but I could’ve been way off base. Some days, he had dark hair with soulful brown eyes. Other days, he had lighter hair and eyes with a clean-cut businessman look. Honestly, I had no clue what he’d look like in person. I didn’t even know his age. He could be in his sixties for all I knew. Yet, I didn’t care about the stuff on paper: the age, the occupation, and the looks. He was kind to me, when I needed some good will in my life. He was my friend, no matter what.
Before calling him two weeks later, I sent him a text to see if he was free. He kept really strange working hours, making me guess he did shift work—maybe a driver, paramedic, or police officer. Some days, he told me his work started in the early morning hours, other times he texted close to midnight, saying he’d just finished for the day.
D called me five minutes after my text. “Hey there.”
“Hi,” I said, while stirring a few vegetables in a pan on the stove. “So, this is silly, but I’m really excited and I had to share my news with you. I got into college.” I practically squealed on the phone, but I felt like I truly accomplished something on my own. My parents’ money probably bought my admissions before and I hadn’t even picked a major I wanted. My mother intended college for husband hunting purposes.
“How old are you exactly?”
“Oh, I’m twenty-eight.” I laughed. “I actually went to college already, but never did anything with my communications degree. I applied to an online college for nursing and I got in. I mean, it’s probably not hard to get into the school, but I’m still happy about it.”
“Don’t do that,” he commanded. “Don’t downplay an accomplishment. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “Oh, and I’m cooking myself dinner for the first time and it doesn’t look like roadkill.”
He laughed. “I’m guessing you never cooked then?”
“No, my mother never thought it was important for me to learn. I’ve been eating frozen dinners since moving out on my own and I’m over them.” D didn’t know I was a waitress, so I failed to mention my only saving grace was the diner food in between shifts. Ahmed was an amazing cook and could even elevate grilled chicken.
“So, you told me more about yourself in the last two minutes than the past month,” D said as I switched the phone to my other ear.
“Oh?”
“Well, now I know your age and you want to be a nurse,” he pointed out.
“I never said we couldn’t provide any personal details, just not names. Don’t you like the id
ea of sharing your inner self with a complete stranger?”
“Not particularly.”
“Oh,” I said, crestfallen.
“Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I mean, I like sharing with you, but I don’t think it’s because you’re a complete stranger.”
“Since I’m in such a good mood, I will accept your compliment without downplaying it. Thank you, I like sharing with you too.”
“Why did you decide to switch from communications to nursing?”
“My parents steered me into choosing the communications major. They never wanted me to get a degree anyway. The plan was for me to find a husband in college and then focus most of my energies on my wifely and motherly duties.”
“Your parents are disturbing.”
“You have no idea how right you are, but we’ll analyze them when I’m in one of our dark and nihilist moods. Instead, tell me something positive about your week.”
“I made an online dating profile, but then lost my nerve and deleted it.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about his announcement. As his friend, I felt happy for him because I understood the idea of dating after Emily wasn’t easy. But I couldn’t deny the tinge of jealousy I experienced over the idea of him dating.
Still, I cared about him enough to realize he needed my support. I had to take on the role of his cheerleader and pretend I didn’t feel a sense of hurt over the idea of him being close in the way we were with another woman.
I hoped he didn’t hear the forced cheer in my voice. “That’s amazing, though, you got in the head space to even make the profile. That’s huge! Who cares if you deleted it?”
“Have you thought about online dating at all?” Although D remarked over how I didn’t accept compliments, he didn’t either. I could tell by bringing the conversation back to me, he didn’t feel like he accomplished much of anything at all.
“No, but it’s more for privacy reasons. I don’t want Jake or my family to know where I am, so I’m avoiding it. I know that’s how most people meet now, so I have no clue where to meet a nice guy. My new town has one crappy bar and it seems more like a meetup for Tinder hookups.”
“Hmmm…”
“Oh my God, did you start making a Tinder profile for a hookup?”
“Hey, you sound judgmental.”
“I’m not, I swear. I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“It was stupid. I haven’t…I haven’t been with anyone since Emily died.”
I wasn’t completely shocked by the admission since he had told me about his awkward date. If he felt uncomfortable holding another woman’s hand, getting naked with someone new was even less plausible.
“It’s not stupid. It actually makes sense now that I have a second to process it. The idea of casually sleeping with someone is less of a challenge than starting a new relationship. Most people can have sex without catching feelings.” Jenny seemed happy with her casual hookups, so maybe that would help him too.
“I guess you’re not one of those people.”
I blushed although he couldn’t see my embarrassment. Talking about sex with him was making those weird feelings I pushed aside come back. Truthfully, although I was persuading him to have casual sex, I actually hated the idea. My insides were getting all twisted up, but I was confused over my reaction. Maybe I had the feelings because he was clearly unavailable to reciprocate.
“I’ve only been with Jake, so…”
“I haven’t done casual in a long time. Before Emily, I had two other long-term, serious girlfriends. Emily and I were together four years before she died.”
“Are you older then? My uncle used to find dates after his divorce on Silver Singles.”
He laughed. “Older than you, but not quite a Silver Single. I’m thirty-three.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about his age. Definitely a little strange knowing he was only five years older than me. Crazy ideas sprang in my head like we could try dating again with each other. Which was a very, very bad idea. There was safety in the idea he could be older than my dad.
Refocusing on the conversation, I tried to remove my emotional attraction to him from the equation. What would I say if Jenny came to me with a similar problem? “I think if you’re ready to sleep with someone, then go ahead and do it. You’re not ready to date, but at least if you’re both getting together to have sex, you won’t lead her on and disappoint her in the end. Stay in the moment and let the…physical take over.”
“I’m worried I’ll feel like I’m cheating on her.”
“But you’re not. Of course, you’re not.”
“I know that and I miss sex. I miss sex a lot. What about you?”
I turned off the stove and sat down at my kitchen table. Dinner would have to wait. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure if you miss sex?”
“I’m not sure I want to talk to you about this,” I said honestly. Advising him to have casual sex was difficult enough. Emotionally I wasn’t positive I could handle confessing my sex issues to him.
“But we talk about our relationship and sex is part of that, right?” Quickly, he added, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, though.”
Damn, he had a way about him that made me want to tell him everything. All the people in my life before were one-dimensional—nothing much below the surface. D had so many different facets to his personality—attractive qualities I felt drawn to. He could be kind, funny, and sensitive. The dark sides of his personality drew me in too if I was perfectly honest.
“I’m embarrassed because…” I trailed off. Hadn’t I made a pact to keep my relationship with him anonymous? What was keeping me from telling him the God’s honest truth? “You promise not to judge me, right?”
“You read messages I sent to my dead fiancée’s phone; how could I judge you?”
“I guess the one thing I don’t miss with Jake is sex. Which is crazy, I know. I’ve been sleeping with him for seven years and I actually feel relief I don’t have to anymore. I think there’s something wrong with me…in that area and then that makes me think of all sorts of other crap.”
“What crap?”
“Like maybe if I enjoyed sex with him more, he wouldn’t have cheated.”
“That is crap,” he said severely.
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t cheat because you weren’t good enough in bed. He cheated because he’s a shit person. And don’t you know the reason you never liked sex with him?”
“Because I’m fucked up inside.”
“No, because on some level you knew he wasn’t deserving of you, so you never let yourself go with him.”
“Damn.”
“What?”
“You give really good advice when you’re not dark and dreary.”
His laugh was deep. “Well, my friend told me not to drink as much anymore and I think listening to her is doing me good.”
His admission filled me with happiness because all I wanted was to help him. His words cemented I was important to him in the same way he mattered to me.
“You’re less dark now?”
“I think so. Believe it or not the messages to Emily helped me too.”
“Really, how?”
“I wrote and sent them to get rid of those feelings. I’m probably explaining it badly, but getting everything down I felt in writing and then releasing them into the void was my way to deal with the grief.”
“I understand. I actually think it’s healthier to recognize the feelings than lock them away.” Silently, I added, like the way I did.
He paused and I heard him inhale. “Remember when you asked me if you could say something without getting offended?”
“Yes.”
“Can I do the same?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you stay with Jake? If you knew he was cheating, what made the last time the breaking point?”
I shut my eyes tightly, wishing I never gave him permission to ask me anything.
Any of the earliest happiness dissipated in an instant. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me hate myself all over again. And then I start to think I don’t deserve anyone better than Jake. Like maybe he was it for me and I’m walking away from my only shot at happiness.” I swallowed down the painful lump in my throat. “My wedding would’ve been two weeks from tomorrow.”
“Were you planning it for a long time?” His voice turned gentle, evidently realizing his questions hit a raw nerve.
“Three years. I should’ve taken the hint when Jake kept postponing the date. He was too much of a coward to break up with me, which is likely why he treated me even shittier this last year. Did you and Emily have a wedding date?”
“No, we both traveled a lot for work, so we hadn’t gotten around to setting a date.”
Interesting, I thought silently. For how intense I imagined their relationship, traveling for work sounded like a mundane reason to not set a wedding date. I never asked D too much about Emily and let him set the tone. Most of his references to her were about how he felt without her. Rarely did he reflect on their time together. He never told me how she had died and I couldn’t find an appropriate way to ask him.
“I guess I should plan something for my non-wedding night as a way to keep my mind off of things. I may have to break our no dark and dreary drunkenness rule.”
“Why don’t we meet?”
“Wait, what?” Jumping up from the chair, I nearly knocked it back onto the floor.
“Why not?” Despite my panicked voice, his tone remained casual. “We’ve been talking for a month now. We’re not exactly strangers any longer.”
“But you don’t even know if I live nearby. I could be in Canada.”
“Well, the area code we each use is in New Jersey. I’m in Springdale, although I go into the city a lot for work.”
“Stop it! You’re giving me too many details.” Shit, double shit, I thought. If I remembered correctly, Springdale was less than twenty minutes from Cookstown. Vaguely, I remembered a few of the diner customers mentioned they headed there to shop at one of the larger malls in the area. He was so close, but I had to keep him far away. He couldn’t become real. Meeting would ruin everything. But…
The Despair of Strangers Page 5