“No, I mean like the realReal World, back from the nineties, before reality TV. MTV’s doing a special on it. It’s so dope, I can’t believe I never saw it.”
I sigh. “Let’s trade places.Please.”
She sucks Cheetos dust off her index finger. “Nope.”
“But I said please.”
“You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”
“Oh, you mean the pacing, nail-biting, and extra-long bathroom breaks? You took that as anticipation?”
“TMI.” She finally glances at me. “You look hot, by the way. Red is a good choice.”
“Thanks.” I know I do. Ihaveto. I spent too much time and money picking out this summer dress, but it’ll only be the second time I’ve seen Finn in two months, and I need everything to go well. If he’s changed his mind about me, I’ll be forced to find a way to move on, and I’m not sure I can.
Benny pauses the DVR. “Don’t be nervous.”
I wonder how she can tell. I’ve been to a dermatologist about my itchy elbow, and she gave me a cream, but recommended I discuss it with my therapist. Cindy and I are working through it. I still get the urge to scratch it, but I’m way better at recognizing and identifying what’s behind the impulse.
“He’ll lose his shit,” Benny says. “Just hope it stays gone long enough for him to forgive you.”
I smirk. Benny knows all the dirty details of my relationship with Finn. It’s how we bonded the first few nights I stayed with her. It feels really good to have it all out there and accepted. “What if he doesn’t show up?” I ask, widening my eyes. “Or worse, what if he’s met someone else? Or fallen out of love with me?”
“He hasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitates. “I didn’t say anything earlier because you’ve been avoiding it so well, but since you’re going to see him, I’ll tell you. I follow your guys’ Instagram, and girl . . . it’s depressing as fuck. That man has no love in his life.”
My eyes fill with unexpected tears even as my heart soars. I don’t want Finn to be depressed. When he hurts I hurt. But I also don’t want him to not love me anymore. “What does he post?”
“Really sad-looking shit, like old churches, park benches, a pile of leaves.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Never.”
“How many followers do we—does he have?”
She grimaces. “You don’t want to know. Let’s just say it’s less than it was.”
I take a deep breath. It’s okay. There are more important things than being admired by strangers. I pick up my bag of goodies from the dining room table. “Wish me luck.”
“One more thing,” she says as I turn to leave.
I look over my shoulder. “What?”
“Tell him about the offer. Even though you’re not doing it, I think he’d like to know. That’s all. Have fun. If you can’t help fucking his brains out tonight, don’t bring it back here.” She salutes me and returns to her TV show.
I get an Uber to the gallery. There’s one detail I’ve tried hard to overlook, and that’s whether or not Finn actually knows we have a date tonight. I have to believe he does. If he read my journal in its entirety, then he would’ve found the entry dated six days before I gave it to him.
April 12th
I have this idea to show Finn what he means to me, but I’m not sure if it will work. Or if he’ll even want me to do it. Or if I have the guts to do it.
Then, I waited. I staked out Lait Noir for days. On the verge of calling it quits, he finally came in. I left the journal on the ledge after scribbling a note in red pen next to the entry.
Vee Gallery, 8pm, May 4th
