Ava #2
Turns out there was a reason, and after I heard it painfully delivered by my sisters, I went underground for a full month.
I didn’t go to work or leave my apartment even once.
I refused to talk to my siblings, my friends, my parents…
The only one I wanted no longer wanted me.
What else did I need to know? Luckily, my employers value my contributions, so I didn’t lose my job, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have cared.
I was lower than I’ve ever been, and nothing as trivial as losing my job could bring me lower.
I haven’t been out with anyone since disaster struck eight months ago.
I haven’t wanted to—until I met Ava at the wedding.
Since then, I find myself thinking about her quite frequently, which is a welcome relief.
The more I think about her, the less time there is to dwell on Brittany and the mess she made of my otherwise charmed life.
Adjusting my gray suit coat over the white dress shirt I’ve worn without a tie, I try to mentally prepare myself for my first real date after the worst breakup in modern history.
With Ava’s sister married to my brother, there’s too much at stake to risk taking a step with her that I’m not ready for.
I’m ready for this, or I wouldn’t have asked her.
I wish I’d met Ava before Brittany did a number on me.
I think Ava would’ve liked the guy Eric Tilden was before Brittany Kerns ruined him.
The new Eric Tilden is cautious and jaded and cynical.
This Eric will never again put himself in a position to be flattened by a woman.
The days of jumping on sofas are over forever for this guy.
Funny enough, I don’t miss sex, and I used to have a lot of it, before Brittany and with her.
Since she left me, I’ve lost interest. It’s like my sex drive shriveled up and died along with my heart. She broke me in more ways than one.
I dab on a hint of cologne—something I’ve never worn before, because I got rid of everything that reminded me of Brittany—clothes, cologne, music and the bed I shared with her.
I destroyed every photo of her and us together.
I threw out clothing she left at my place—even the five-hundred-dollar jeans she treasured—and smashed the turntable she gave me for our first Christmas into a thousand pieces before I dumped it down the trash chute in my building.
I wanted nothing of her left in my life, and I succeeded in purging her from my home.
If only I could do the same with my memories.
I’d like to invent a device that can rid your brain of things you no longer want or need to remember.
Wouldn’t that be something? A way to wipe clean the hard drive and reboot your internal system.
Sign me up. I’d willingly volunteer my brain to develop such a thing, especially if it meant I’d never have another thought about Brittany for the rest of my life.
“We’re not thinking about her tonight,” I remind myself. “Tonight is for Ava. Brittany is dead to us.” Keep saying it, old man. Keep saying it until you succeed in purging her from your brain the same way you’ve gotten rid of her in your home.
I grab my wallet, phone and keys off the kitchen counter and head out to pick up Ava, determined to look forward rather than backward.
I want to get to know her better. I want her to trust me with whatever haunts her, but that’s not going to happen overnight.
If she’s never told her sister, what makes me think she’ll tell me?
Maybe she won’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to get to know her. I have a feeling she might be worth the effort.
If someone had asked me before my brother’s wedding—which I’d been dreading, by the way—if I was ready to get back to dating, I would’ve said no way.
I had zero interest in anything having to do with women or dating.
In fact, before the wedding, I might’ve replied that I’d rather have a vasectomy without painkillers than go out with a woman, and it would’ve been the truth.
But then I met Ava, and suddenly, I was intrigued by a woman again.
Not that I’m looking to plunge into another relationship. Not even kinda. I like Ava, and I enjoy spending time with her. That’s all this is, I tell myself as I walk the short distance from my place to hers. It’s a diversion. Something to do. A new friend to get to know.
Another thing I like about spending time with Ava is that she doesn’t know Brittany, didn’t know me with her and doesn’t look at me with sympathy or empathy or pity the way everyone else in my life does.
I’m tired of being on the receiving end of everyone’s good intentions.
Even the people I work with, the fucking partners, for God’s sake, know what happened to me, and I hate that.
But that’s what happens when you take an unscheduled month out of work.
The bosses find out your fiancée ghosted you, and everyone feels terrible for you.
It’s time to rewrite the narrative but to proceed with utmost caution.
As I arrive at Ava’s building, I text her.
Be right down, she replies.
The doorman admits me when I tell him I’m here to see Ava.
A few minutes later, she comes off the elevator, wearing sky-high heels and one of those sexy, clingy dresses that tie at the hip.
Miles of creamy white leg is on display, and her auburn hair falls in silky waves around her shoulders.
Her golden-brown eyes have been given a smoky look with artfully applied makeup.
Tonight, she seems a little less haunted than she was on our previous encounters.
I’m hypnotized by her, and then she smiles.
Holy shit, she’s stunning, and for a moment, I’m rendered mute and paralyzed while I watch her come to me.
“Hi,” she says, sounding a little breathless. “You look nice.”
“You look… Wow. Beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
I extend a hand to her, and she takes it, our eyes meeting in a charged moment of awareness.
She looks up at me. “Where’re we going?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Oh, cool. What’s there?”
“Come and I’ll show you.” I lead her out the door that the doorman holds for us and down the stairs, moving slowly in deference to her heels. On the street level, I hail a cab, help her in, and when I’m settled next to her, I give the driver the address of our destination.
My eyes are drawn to her sexy legs, and I remind myself I’m not allowed to touch. But for the first time in a very long time, I want to. I really, really want to.