Phyllis didn’t really need watering tonight, since Rae had already come by earlier in the week, but Rae liked being in Brooklyn, farther from her office and closer to Dustin, or at least that’s how it felt. And Ellen was out with her coworkers tonight—she’d gotten cultishly close with the other chickpea milk fanatics at her start-up—so Rae was planning to do some reading from Dustin’s couch for a while, or just catch up on sleep.
Dustin had said he wouldn’t be back until the weekend, but Rae heard music drifting from his bedroom. Her heart leapt. He was home, and he was playing music. He only played music when he felt light enough to let in melodies.
“Dustin?” she called out again.
He didn’t answer. Maybe he was sleeping.
Rae went to hang up her jean jacket on her peg. She’d been over here so many times now that she thought of it asherpeg.
But her peg was already occupied—by a floppy sun hat. That’s when Rae noticed the shoes, too, strappy women’s sandals scattered on the floor as if they’d been kicked off in a rush.
“Dustin?” she repeated, louder this time.
The bedroom door swung open. Dustin was standing there in boxers, pulling a T-shirt over his head. A woman’s voice was behind him, piercing through the music.
Everything was spinning. Rae kept staring.
“Rae,” Dustin said again, walking closer.
Ripping her eyes away from him, she strode, shoes on, to the kitchen window. Consumed with the need to save something, she scooped Phyllis into her arms, and soil dribbling onto the floor like bread crumbs, she hurried out the door and down the stairs so Dustin didn’t follow her out to the elevator, or more precisely, so she didn’t have to notice how he didn’t follow her out to the elevator, how he simply shut the door behind her and walked back inside to the girl he’d chosen instead of her.
“You said you were okay just being friends,” Ellen said at the penthouse the next night.
Rae was sprawled on the couch, using her bathrobe as a blanket to cover her eyes. They’d texted all day about The Sun Hat Girl Scandal, but this was the first they were seeing each other in person.
“I know,” Rae mumbled from underneath the heavy fabric.
“The writing was on the wall this whole time.”
“I know.”
“I kept saying it was a bad idea.”
Rae yanked the robe down from her face. “I know! So just keep rubbing it in, why don’t you?”
Ellen was sitting on one of the armchairs, giving Rae the full couch. “Sorry,” Ellen mumbled. “I just always knew he was going to hurt you.”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Rae said, hoping that by saying it aloud it might come true. “We were never even together.”
He wasn’t hers to lose, but that didn’t stop the bottomless, bright-red loss.
“You couldn’t have actually thought he was completely celibate?” Ellen asked.
A wounded whine escaped Rae. She didn’t know exactly what she’d thought, but it had involved the arrogant assumption that if he was going to date anyone, it would be her. But for whatever reason, probably many, she wasn’t what he wanted.
“I doubt he’s even dating that girl,” Ellen said, as if reading Rae’s thoughts. “It was probably just a one-time thing.”
Rae wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.
Ellen procured a pint of Ben & Jerry’s from the freezer, which she attempted to spoon into Rae’s mouth. Rae shoved it away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d refused ice cream. That’s how deep the hurt was.
“I think this is actually a good thing,” Ellen said, eating the rejected spoonful herself. “It makes the boundaries clearer. If you do choose to be his friend now, you’ll have your eyes wide open.”
Rae’s phone buzzed. Dustin had tried calling four times since last night, and now he was texting every thirty minutes, like clockwork. Ironic how reliably he appeared now that she didn’t want to hear from him.
“He said he loved me,” she squeaked out, wishing she could be back at that SoHo rooftop bar with him, away from the crowd where they’d first professed their untraditionalI love yous, and also willing herself to forget the scene forever. They’d said it so many times since, always using the phrase in lieu ofGood-bye.
“I don’t think he was lying,” Ellen said. “He was just using a different dictionary.”
