“I’ll let you two go. Thanks for talking this through with me.”
“We’re always here for you.” Ella squeals, “Julie, stop!”
“I’ll hit you later.” Julian’s voice trails off, but not before he says to Ella, “Don’t roll over. I’m up now.”
The line goes dead.
I sit in the armchair across from my bed and scroll through pictures of me and Miriam. There aren’t many because of the years of long distance, but we’re making up for lost time.
My thumb hovers over the one from three years ago, of us in the emergency room. I pulled her in for a selfie. My smile is a grimace thanks to the tampon up my broken nose. Miriam looks off, like she’s frustrated with the smile that’s tempting her lips to curl. Even with herSet It Offbraids and her wig stuck on my watch, she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
If you want her, go for it.
“See you soon, Doe.”
Chapter 37
Miriam
Iam not cut out for turning up.
This weekend was a reminder of why I keep my butt in the house. I spent two nights in Toronto with my sister, and it only took one to realize that regret would be in the room with us until we checked out.
Marcela wasted no time getting the weekend started. Our three-hour drive to Toronto ended in a late boozy lunch and checking into our hotel.
By five, we were out for dinner. Two hours later, we pregamed at her line sister’s house like we were in undergrad and not nearing perimenopause. By ten, I was in a lounge with Marcela and her friends with a dead phone, sore feet, and a forgotten charger. Could I have picked one up earlier in the day? Yes. Did I keep my battery life in its coffin in order to not revive thoughts of Antonio? Also yes.
He goes silent before a game, doesn’t check messages or talk to anyone except his coaches or teammates. I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal to revert back to life in the Stone Age since he’s usually busy anyway.
I miss him. His laughter, and how easy life is when he’s around. It’s impossible not to think about him physically now that our toes went over the line, but I’m trying. I try to forget his hard body exerting energy on the field in those tiny shorts. Or the parts of said body that almost put me through a mattress. Especially if they’re satisfying other women.
With a new season comes new hookups and “old friends” who are apparently back in town. But do they know the real him?
Does Kenya get pieces of his joy, the Ace Ventura dance he does when he finds a snack buried in the pantry? How he lights up during off-season, when he gets to just exist in sweats, a tee, and no obligations? Or when hotels have two-ply toilet paper and prioritize liquid soap over recycled bars that resemble prison weapons after use?
Antonio is more than his looks and his wallet. He’s one of the best people I know, with a heart bigger than every muscle on his body. A heart that draws me to him in ways I never predicted. We’re magnets, total opposites in every way, and it’s getting harder to fight the pull.
Distraction was my cognitive strategy to bury the feelings that followed me home from Vegas. Keeping myself busy was starting to work. Until Sunday, when he blew up Marcela’s phone looking for me. I won’t lie and say it didn’t feel good for him to call her three times on his way to the airport. He got a tongue lashing in English and Spanish for bothering her before eight a.m., but he didn’t care.
Ten minutes later, the concierge delivered a new charger to our room. I scrolled through the messages he left, but only one sent my heart through the wall.
We need to talk.
“Toro Mata” trumpets through my tiny kitchen. Celia Cruz always makes everything better, but she’s doing nothing to calm my nerves right now.
What’s so important that he’d get me a charger in a different country? He’s not injured. The hospital would’ve called me since I’m still his emergency contact.
I expel a sharp breath and lift the ladle to my mouth to sip thesancochothat’s been simmering on the stove for the last hour. When life becomes a complicated mess, I cook.
Rice with pigeon peas.
Patacones.
Potato salad.
It will take a week to eat through everything myself. Five pounds added to my hips, and I’ll still be right here thinking about the potential soft launch of his first relationship. The chemistry between them was obvious based on what little I saw from the interview.
Kenya seems nice. She looks like she flosses regularly, does charity work, and gets to see him more during the rugby season. I should be happy at the possibility of my friend finding love. That’s a big step, and I wish him a lifetime of happiness with whoever he chooses. Any woman would be lucky. Antonio is sweet. And hung.
