“I hope you don’t take that as any kind of rejection because believe me,” Vaughn says, his eyes wide as he looks me up and down. Chris’s gaze is back on the wine glass he’s rolling gently between his palms. Still, his lack of eye contact does nothing to dull the heat in his words when he speaks.
“Yeah, finding you attractive isn’t the issue.”
“I have to say, I am a little jealous. You two have each other.”
“You have us now,” Vaughn replies. “Not that way, but I think we have a very unique club going on here. Scorned lovers with no closure and whatnot.”
“Is it okay if I get your number from Vaughn?” Chris asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
It’s interesting to see the effortless, silent exchange between them when Vaughn tosses Chris his phone without warning. Chris snatches it out of the air and unlocks it with the passcode. His fingers fly across the screen and then my phone chimes with a text.
“There you go. You have the both of us now.”
“Thank you. Well, what am I supposed to do now?” I say as I walk over and flop down beside Chris on the couch. “I was ready for some run-of-the-mill small talk, but now I’m torn between rambling some more and a good old fashioned sob session. But I guess you two don’t need to be here for either of those things to happen.”
“Nah. No need for that. Here.” Chris moves closer and puts his arm around me. I want to be shocked by it. Especially from the way he came into my hotel room, a little on edge, but I accept the comfort. I lean into him for just a moment before he rethinks his position and takes off his letterman jacket. He’s wearing a soft sweater that smells of soap and faintly of wood. It would make a perfect candle. Vaughn stands up and finds the remote next to the TV.
“Let’s see what on.” He sits on the couch beside me. He doesn’t touch me, but I can still feel the warmth coming off him. He rolls through the guide until he finds reruns ofLiving Single, something we can all agree on. Resting against Chris’s side, I realize just how fast my heart has been beating this whole time. How hard it’s been beating since I hopped on the parkway.
I close my eyes as Regine starts to go in on Max. I try to focus on the rise and fall of Chris’s chest. I can’t help but wonder how the hell he’s so calm. Maybe because he hasn’t spent the last twenty minutes rambling and taking half a bottle of wine to the head. I can’t help but wonder how Vaughn is so relaxed next to me, with his impossibly long legs stretched out beside the coffee table.
Maybe it’s because they have each other. They’ve had weeks to comfort each other. Weeks to fall apart together and to build each other back up. I know they are not okay. I could hear the pain in Vaughn’s voice when he talked abouther. I could see the hurt in Chris’s eyes when he talked about the how and why they were currently in this fucked up position.
My eyes blink open and I close them again. That ache returns to my chest. I want Chris to kiss me. I want Vaughn to put the weight of his whole body over me. I want to feel something other than this. I want reliable human contact that’s not asking me to put on a brave face. I fight back the tears and try not to beat myself up too much. I miss my cheating fiancé. I miss Josh.
* * *
Chris and Vaughn leave a little before one a.m. We watch TV and talk a little more. I ask Vaughn about his work in patent law. He asks me about the politics of the D.A.’s office. That’s all fine and good until we start talking about the upcoming election for mayor. It makes me think of Josh and suddenly I need to change the subject.
Shaw distracts me by showing me his craftsman website where, a few times a year, he posts photos of select projects, step by step. Looking at pieces of wood go from planks or stumps to useful expensive things is somehow soothing. He shares some other craftsmen's Instagrams with me. I watch a guy make a table in his Instastories and feel my heart start to slow a little.
When it’s time for them to go, I reluctantly tell them how I don’t know how I’m feeling about the next day or if I’ll even stay til Sunday morning like I’d initially planned. I apologize. It was my idea for us to meet up, but I didn’t manage my own expectations and now I feel like I am just wasting their time. They are both very sweet about it. Too sweet. They go. I tidy up a bit before I remove my lace front so I can wrap my hair, then I fall into bed.
I’m asleep almost immediately, but I sleep like shit. Hard, deep sleep, but it’s full of nightmares. It’s full of Josh. It’s the same version of the same dream I can’t seem to stop. I see him somewhere. At work. On Liz and Silas’s farm. Coming out of the men’s room in my favorite bar. Standing on the other side of the platform while I wait for the train.
This time he’s in my apartment. I am so pissed. So hurt. Everything inside me is boiling. I want to tell him to leave. I want to tell him I deserve a fucking explanation. But I say nothing. I just watch him as he pretends. He sets down his bag. He smiles at me and he lies. He lies about how he missed me. He lies about how much he loves me.
My throat burns with unshed tears. Finally I tell him I know. I tell him I know about Corrine. He just smiles and asks me if I want to walk down to the bodega. More happens. I’m walking with my friend Noa. Some actor I don’t even like tells me he wants to take me out, but there are condition. I have to rub his feet. When I jolt awake close to six a.m., my throat still hurts.
I lay awake, scrolling endlessly through the explore tab on Instagram. Watching video after video of cake decorating, crafts for kids, stuff the algorithm feeds me for my baby Palila. I go and look at pictures of the kids and that makes me feel better for a moment. I fall back asleep. When I wake up, I regret not drinking a little water with my burger and wine.
I suck it up and drink the two bottled waters in the mini bar that are going to cost me fifty dollars a pop before I use the restroom. I go back out into the sitting room of the suite, thinking about how Chris and Vaughn looked filling the space. I go to the window and look out over the river. I have no fucking clue what river I’m looking at, but people are walking along it, enjoying this cloudy Saturday morning.
I’m going to stay, I decide. Give myself at least another twenty-four hours to be alone with my thoughts, away from work and away from the city. This is how my weekends are now. I have to be away. Usually at Liz’s, but I remember that since they have Silas’s cousin Mason and his wife Xeni visiting from L.A. for the weekend, that’s why I’d made other plans. Last place I thought I’d end up is Boston.
I don’t watch baseball, but a century’s long feud with racial overtones is to be respected. As soon as Liz told me her plans, I knew I needed to escape. I could have dragged my friends away, but I don’t know. I just don’t. Rayna is busy with her boyfriend, who she keeps breaking up with. It’s smack in the middle of Claudia’s two weeks to be in NorCal with her husband and Noa… Noa is too healthy for me right now.
I see Noa and I envy her. She’s trying so hard. Her last breakup was horrible. But she grieved and then she bounced back in this way that’s just—I mean what the fuck. She’s a picture of mental health. Putting herself first. Actually seeing the therapist Claudia recommended. Eating well. Going to workout classes. Crafting! I know her life isn’t perfect. I know she’s human. She has her bad days too, but sometimes I look at her and I can’t.
It would kill me to put in that kind of effort. Mostly because no one actually wants to see me better and happy right now. It’s still too soon. I mean it is, but I wonder what the time frame is. How long must the general public see me as the grieving widow-to-be? Six months? A year? Two? Forever? I carry Josh’s ghost and the ghost of our relationship with me everywhere, through my waking hours and when I’m asleep. Fucker won’t leave me alone long enough for me to join Noa for cardio hip hop.
That’s why I text her. ’Cause she is who she is and I know she won’t judge me. Noa is made of good friend material.
When can I start dating again?
Not like LOVE
