“You’re a wonderful friend, Cindy. I appreciate you. But I promise, I’m good. Perfect in fact. Except for being exhausted. Now, go home, both of us need downtime. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? You need me, even if you just want to cry, call me. I’ll be over with a box of wine and a few half gallons of ice cream. We can eat and drink until we pass out.”
Laughing, we hug, and I let her love and support soak in before stepping away and brushing the tears from my eyes.
“Be safe going home.”
She gives the thumbs up, then slides into her front seat. Getting into my car, I contemplate Cindy’s words. Do I want to see Jason? For years, I dreamed of seeing him and trying to explain. But what’s the point now? I haven’t wanted to remember anything about that time, and while her offer is tempting, I’m not ready. My before—my childhood in Fernwood, the one I despise—isn’t something I want to rehash with anyone, especially my bestie. What if she hates me after she learns the truth about me?
Nope, not today. Maybe not ever. These days, it’s all about being a better person. Maybe one day I’ll be someone who deserves to find love again.
A plate with blue cheese, crackers, and sliced pears is on the table next to my oversized comfy chair, with one of my fuzzy blankets on the ottoman in case I get cold. With a bottle of pinot noir open and breathing, my wine glass waits. I put my e-reader on the arm of the chair. After my bath, I dressed in my favorite loungewear. Let the perfect night begin.
As I drop into the chair and my doorbell rings.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I’m tempted to ignore it. Cindy hasn’t texted. She always does if she’s coming over. I don’t have any other friends who would just show up. Sighing when it rings again, I push myself out of my chair and pad to the front door.
“What the hell?” I see Cindy when I look through the peephole in the door. Pulling it open, I’m worried something happened when I notice her outfit. Her hair’s curled. She’s wearing cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a sparkly T-shirt. “What’s going on? Why are you all dressed up? You’re even wearing makeup.”
“Because I’m dragging your sad ass out of the house.”
“No way. I’m going sit my happy ass in my favorite chair and be a total slug until I fall asleep.”
Cindy just smiles and holds up an email. I squint trying to read the small text.
“What does it say?” I ask as I back up and she comes into my condo.
“You’re not going to believe this. While I was driving home they ran a contest for two tickets to tonight’s Jason Royce concert.”
I can already figure out the rest. One of Cindy’s favorite things is playing the radio contests. She’s even won a bunch of them.
“You texted while driving?” It’s the first thing that pops out of my mouth. She’s bad about that too.
“Never mind that. I won the tickets. We need to go now.”
“Nope. Not going. Call Maggie, I bet she’s free tonight.”
“Are you kidding me right now, woman? Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. We have third row tickets to the concert and backstage passes afterwards. You’ll get to see him, talk to him. Get your closure.”
“You’re insane. I’m not going to talk to him at a concert. Or backstage with all of his fan girls hanging all over him.”
“How do you know it’ll be that way?”
Shit. Busted. “I might have looked him up online while I was soaking in the tub. There are tons of videos of him and so many women. He has a different one every time he goes out.”
“Exactly.”
“Wait, what do you mean exactly? That’s horrible. He’s turned into a total player.”
“No, you’re missing the point.” Cindy sighs and shakes her head. “It’s adifferentwoman every time. If he were actually dating any of them, you’d see them more than once. I bet are just women his manager picks for him to be seen with. Don’t you read the tabloids? Wait, never mind. I know you don’t. But trust me.”
I don’t know what to say. My heart is beating so hard in my chest I’m sure Cindy can hear it. Sweat prickles under my hair, and I have goosebumps all at the same time. It’s a risk to see him. He could have me thrown out. It would be totally humiliating. Or maybe he’d listen to me. My stomach ties itself in knots, and my vision dims. Fuck, I’m having a panic attack.
“Easy, Becky. Breathe. Look at me. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be with you the whole time. Breathe with me, in, out, in, out…”
As I follow her breathing, my vision clears. Finally, I take a deep breath.
“Better?”
