“And I don’t know. I feel like I’ve accomplished a lot for being thirty-one. I like where I live, I have great friends, I’ll have my own practice soon and that’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. I’ve traveled the world. I just... don’t have anyone to go home to and tell them about my day.”
“You have Kevin!” Lena interjects.
“Right,” I laugh out. “But...” My voice trails into the oblivion ofwhy can’t I find love?
“You’re being too hard on yourself. You’re barely thirty-one.”
“Exactly. I’m thirty-one and I don’t even get laid on a regular basis. Shouldn’t I at least have regular sex?”
Claire cackles. Lena looks disgusted.
“Weren’t you seeing that one guy last month? Caden? Braden?” Claire asks.
“Jaden. And he gave me acne—my body physically rejected him. We didn’t make it past the first kiss or the third date,” I answer.
“You ghosted him, didn’t you?” Lena accuses, and I almost laugh.
“No, I told him it wasn’t working out for me and thanked him for the lovely dates. Then I changed his name in my phone to a skull emoji... like an adult.” Or rather, a habit I started back in college and have still been doing for nine years now.
Lena claps, and Claire asks, “How many skulls are in there, Julia?”
I shrug. “No second chances.”
“You don’t need a man to fulfill your dreams.”
Lena’s right, though. I wouldn’t mind the company of a gentleman now and then, but it also sounds like a terrible idea.I’ve seen the dating pool—it’s full of forced chemistry, wishful thinking, and the causation of certain groups like “Are we dating the same man?” to exist. I’d rather die alone with my vibrator.
I smile. “I don’t need a man. I’m perfectly fine, thank you!”
“Atta girl!” Lena hollers holding up her coffee cup and eyeing Claire and me. “Safe flights, ladies!”
“Thank you and happy Thanksgiving!” I hug them briefly. I blow them kisses before scurrying up the steps to the platform to hop on the L, while Claire hops in an Uber to take her to the airport, and Lena continues walking home to her place.
Today felt excruciatingly long at the clinic. I’m convinced it’s because it’s the Wednesday before a huge holiday and I have an early morning flight. As I wait for the train to arrive I swipe away all my notifications, not bothering to check them. I’m fully aware the act of removing the notification doesn’t mean it won’t pop up again at a later time but after finishing a full day with patients, I don’t want to look at a full phone.
When the train arrives, it comes to a screeching halt and the silver doors slide open. The train is as packed as it usually is at this hour, but I still manage to find a seat near the door. I pull my latest read from my bag and attempt to get lost in the book, relishing the fact that I get to read for pleasure again.
The closer we get to my stop, the more crowded the L gets. If I look up from my book, I would be staring directly at the fly of a man’s zipper. I don’t mind crowds on public transportation, but I find myself never knowing where to look. I want to people-watch but don’t want to get caught staring or have my intentions misconstrued. Thank goodness for books.
“How far are you?” the man in front of me asks.
I look up, unsure if he means how far in the book or how far until I get off.
“I’m sorry—” I’m cut off by the sight of him. “JP?”
He grins wide—that perfect, delectable smile I want to sink my teeth into. I jump up and leap into his arms the best I can, considering the jerk and wind of the train, and hit my head on the bar above my head. He cups the throbbing place on my head and squeezes me so tight my feet lift off the ground while my heart does a complete rotation in my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Then it hits me. “How was Greece? You hated it. Obviously. Because you’re back.”
He laughs as he says, “In town for Thanksgiving. Greece is fantastic.”
“Oh.” I click my tongue against my teeth. “Dang, I leave tomorrow morning for Seattle for Thanksgiving.” I don’t know why I say it. I’m clearly assuming he’d want to spend time with me, which is comical considering the fact he didn’t text me to say he was in town.
“Skip it. You don’t want to hang out with your mom anyway,” he teases, and I smile.
“I don’t but also...”
He scrunches his nose as he stares down at me. “You should.”
