And then… I pour my heart out to her.
TWENTY-NINE
Mona
I calledin sick this morning. I don’t remember the last time I missed a day of work other than taking my paid time off so I wouldn’t lose it. Since it’s so close to the end of the year, I’ve already used all my allocated time, which means that I will not get paid for today. Fortunately, I accumulated enough hours this week where I’d be getting my normal paycheck. Nothing extra.
Hugging a pillow to my chest, I sigh. Misery is no fun, and I am definitely miserable. I hate that all I can think of is Alex. I hatehim. In that same respect, I have to admit that what he did was creative.
In fact, the more I think of it, I realize that this last breakup with him has been different from before. We both acted differently. I, for one, blocked him everywhere I could think to do so. Before, I just waited around for him to come back like I knew he would.
Alex respected my boundaries once he realized what they were. He never showed up at my door either until I pretty much gave him the green light, just in not so many words.
Him creating a fake profile on theHolidatesapp was the loop I had not foreseen.
I can feel the beginning of a smile forming on my lips. Had this been someone else’s story, I would’ve thought it was romantic and beautiful. That’s what Elizabeth called it, at least the romantic part. But since I’m the one at the center of all this, I don’t exactly appreciate the sentiment.
Or, do I?
I throw the pillow away. “I literally hate my life!”
There’s no one here to hear it, but I feel like I need to say the words out loud. The relief I was hoping to get from it doesn’t come.
I jump off the couch and march to the kitchen, in search of some comfort food. The doors of the cabinets slam as I put too much force into closing each one while I look for something. I got nothing but the very basics. This is stupid, I decide. Why am I still living in the city if I can’t really afford the life here?
Grabbing the jar of peanut butter and a spoon, I figure I might as well make myself comfortable with it. On a whim, I also grab the small jar of Nutella I keep for special occasions. I never specified to myself if it would be good or bad special occasions.
I find my way back to the couch where I open the jars and line them up next to me, unsure of which one I should start with.
“Oh, what the hell, time to go wild.”
I pick up the Nutella and scoop a large amount into my spoon, then dip it lightly into the peanut butter jar.
“Mmmm, almost as good as sex,” I moan to myself. “And halfway healthy, too. I’ll get my protein intake.”
I am three spoons deep into the process when my cell phone goes off.
“For crying out loud,” I say around a large bite of the peanut butter Nutella mix.
The number showing on the screen is not one I recognize. I normally don’t answer calls from unknown numbers, but what the hell, my life is spiraling anyway, might as well make a robot’s day.
“Mona, this is Jonathan Bennett.” My eyes about pop out of my head. “From theHolidatesapp,” he explains when I don’t react. “You gave me your number in the last communication through the app.”
Spoon in my mouth, I squint my eyes as I try to think. I vaguely remember giving him my number. I don’t remember why.
“I thought I’d pick you up next Saturday. That way, we walk in together, and it’s clear to everyone that we are each other’s date.”
Ah, okay, that’s why I gave him my number, to discuss logistics. It’s much easier than through an email.
“Uh, well, that’d be great, Jonathan,” I say. “Thank you for the offer.”
Then, I start to think about it.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with giving you my home address,” I decide. “How about I take the train to the stop closest to the venue. You can wait for me there, and we’ll still walk in together.”
He doesn’t miss a bit. “Fine by me. And just so we’re clear, I’ll need a date for an event in May. It will be in Boston. As stated before, all expenses will be paid.”
I snort a little as I scoop more Nutella out of the jar. He sounds like he’s a high-powered attorney, even, though, I know he’s not. He works in finance.
