My eyes dart to hers aggressively. “Don’t you even fucking joke about that, speak that shit into the universe. I should probably be glad she didn’t, huh?”
She laughs louder than she should at my miserable face, the painful tea time I just endured, and nods animatedly. “Yeah, babe. Take your wins where you can get 'em.”
I lick my lips, shake my head at her disbelievingly. Annoying that she can make this situation funny, even with me being in a rare bad mood.
“Can’t believe I’m having to get my Ellie updates from Chance!” Chrissy changes the subject.
“I know, I know, but that’s over now. The last few weeks were ridiculously nuts, but we should be back to normal now.” Not sure if that reassurance is more for her, or me.
“So catch me up. How the fuck are you. How brutal was it. What happened after. How did the move out go.” She rattles them off like a list of bullet points, not questions, and she leans in close, eager, swirling her finger at me to start talking and not to stop. I try to obey.
“I mean, it wasn’t great. But you know that part already. I’m doing okay, though. Honestly, I thought I’d be more upset about it than I am. I mean, on the one hand, it’s kind of sad. I mean, I spent five years with the guy, and there are things I miss about that.” I tilt my head side to side, like I’m weighing it out.
She jumps right in, never missing a beat, this one. “What’s sad is that you spent five years in a sexual relationship with someone who didn’t value your sexual needs or view you as a valid sexual being in your own right. His one-sided act is fucking bullshit. I swear to Valentino, if you’d come clean to me earlier, I would’ve punched him in the dick for you so hard.” She’s got her game-face on and I know she would’ve gone at him if I’d let her.
“As helpful as a broken dick would’ve been to my sex life,” I give her a pointed look, a grimace of a grin, “there were a lot of good things between us. But it was kind of like, once I saw what was important to me, the things I wasn’t willing to settle for or be complacent about, I had this clarity on our relationship that I’d never had before. And my path became clear. Like, once I knew what I had to do, the prospect of being alone or never finding what I’m looking for wasn’t what was scary anymore.” I stop, take a breath, a sip, line my thoughts up and keep going. “It became scarier to stay trapped in something that wasn’t really making me happy, something that I couldn’t be myfullself in. Settling for less than I deserve became my new fear. And as hard as it was to face him and get him to see that it wasn’t working for me…once that part was past, once the initial shock wore off… I actually feel really fucking good now. Like, there’s basically no sadness. I’m excited about life again. I feel likemeagain. I can’t wait to wake up, and go to work, and just live my fucking life again.”
“BITCH!” Her enthusiasm makes the harsh word sound like a title of honor, like a cheer for me. “It’s so fucking good to see you BACK!” She pumps the air with her fists, celebrating my return tome. “You are so capable though, you were always gonna make life your bitch, I wasn’t worried about you getting through the post-breakup period. But I am fucking excited for whatever the hell you do next.”
“Thanks, girl.” I give her a small smile. “I appreciate your confidence in me. You sound a lot more sure that I’d be fine than I felt.” It was touch and go there for a bit.
“I’m always sure when it comes to you.” She shoots me a wink, something Chance does to her all the time and it’s rubbed off, I think. “So keep talking.” Her finger twirls in the air again.
“So it took a couple days for it to sink in for him. There’s not a word to describe howsuperawesome and comfortable it was around the condo—” I make a falsely cheery face, bugged out eyes to convey the awkward discomfort “—until I could get the movers there over the weekend. They packed up all my shit, loaded it up, and brought it over to the bungalow.” I take a big sip of my drink that just got delivered and keep going. “ThankGodthose renovations were just completed.”
The bungalow was an investment property—my first, actually, I’m quite proud of how it turned out—that I was supposed to start listing and showing this month to get my very first tenants. Plans changed, obviously.
“Some of the stuff wasn’t so bad, I mean a lot of the accounts we had were separate, but splitting the shared stuff and the investments is kinda annoying. I’m trying to be respectful to him, not be nasty about it or shove the breakup down his throat, so kinda giving him some time on it. Let him go through everything himself, double check what my accountant and lawyer proposed. He keeps the condo, me the bungalow, that kinda thing.”
Let’s not rush into anything,David had said.Not split things up now that we’ll just have to recombine when you come to your senses.No need to tell Chrissy some of the finer things he said to me during our breakup.
“And are you settled in?” She asks, nabbing a beignet from the plate in between us and tearing off a bite, which dusts powdered sugar freakingeverywherein the process.
“Mostly,” I nod my head in big movements. “Got the movers to help unpack the bigger stuff for me. Took a couple weekends to get all the bathroom and kitchen stuff sorted, my closet and vanity, you know. But yeah, I’m pretty much there now.”
“When do I get to come over?” She waggles her eyebrows playfully.
“You tell me, miss full-time mom with a job and—how many pets is it now?”
She rolls her eyes. “Still the two.”
“But this is fish number…?” I prompt her.
“Twenty-three, and you’re an asshole for pointing it out.”
“And does twenty-three have a name?” I ask, blinking innocently.
“This one,” she tells me haughtily, neck elongated, nose in the air, like she hasn’t failed to keep nearly two dozen fish alive in the last couple years alone, “is The Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“The Dread Pirate Roberts,” I confirm. She nods. “I’ll have to meet him,” I tell her.
She purses her lips, looks off to the side of the restaurant, out to the sunlit courtyard, paved with stone. “Don’t bother.” Her voice is unusually prim and delicate. “He hasn’t been feeling that well lately. I fear he won’t be with us much longer.”
I snort into my drink and we both crack up, drawing a few interested looks from the tables around us.
“At this rate, you’re going to need a bigger yard,” I tell her, knowing her and Chance’s ritual every time they lose a fish.
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves a hand at me. “My life is a joke.”
