Does he not understand that I’m mad? “No, I’ve never been.”
“You should go. I go a couple times a year…at least. Really consistent surf and just totally untouched land. It’s gorgeous.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Huh? Um…”
I’m glaring at him.
“You said I should go. Are you inviting me?”
The nonplussed expression on his face is already getting old. “Well, Dani, I just got back.”
I glance around the room and make it obvious that I’m irritated. A deep breath in and out and then I say, “I don’t understand, Jacob. What is going on with us? I mean, you didn’t even tell me you were leaving the country.”
He jerks his back. Now he’s clearly looking surprised. “I don’t understand.”
The waiter comes, pours us each a glass of wine, and leaves. The tension is palpable. I take two large gulps of wine.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Costa Rica?”
“WhywouldI tell you?”
“Are you serious?”
“Dani, I don’t know what you think, but I’m sorry if you were under the wrong impression.”
My chest is hot, my hands are twitching, and I’m positive my face looks like a tomato. “My impressions can’t be wrong. They’re mine and they’re subjective. But let me explain something to you…when you are in a relationship, you tell the other person you are leaving the country.”
His confused eyes widen piteously. His voice is low when he says, “We’re not in a relationship, Dani. We hung out a few times.”
“We slept together.”
He arches his eyebrows. “Yes, we did. It was very nice. I really like you…”
“But?” I say. I’m fully prepared for him to dump me right now.
“But I’m not really the commitment…the, um…” He’s fumbling his words, looking for the right thing to say.
“What, the marriage type? I don’t want to marry you,” I say before emptying my glass of wine down my throat.
“No, what I mean is, the monogamous type.”
Something in my mind shifts. It’s like I opened the blinds.He dates many women.
“Am I the Sunday night girl?” I say.
“No, it’s not like that at all. I’m just…I don’t know how to explain it to you.”
“Is the girl you tagged in the Costa Rica picture your girlfriend?”
He’s searching his mind. He doesn’t know what I’m referring to. “Ohhh, Milena? No. I don’t have a girlfriend, Dani. Milena surfs.”
I’m not his girlfriend. It stings a little. Of course I’m not. I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s humiliating. Still, I can’t stop. “But do you sleep together, is what I’m asking.”
There are four awkward beats of silence. I already know the answer. “Yeah, we do,” he says.
“I don’t mean sleep together. I mean, do you have sex with her?” I am pouring salt in my own wounds now.
