11 Xavier
11
XAVIER
S HE LEFT ?” MIKE said, looking at me over his dumbbell.
“Yeah. Two weeks ago.” I was sitting on a weight bench across from him, Chris, and Jesse. We’d just rowed for half an hour and now Mike had us doing arms. Mike was a personal trainer and he trained us for free. The same way I’d take care of their pets for free and Jesse would give us financial advice for free and Chris would pick up the phone to answer medication questions any hour of the night.
These were my closest friends. They were the nearest thing I had to family.
And I’d purposely avoided seeing them for the last two weeks because I hadn’t been ready to talk to them about Samantha. I still wasn’t.
The spaceship had altered my DNA. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I thought giving it some distance and time would make it better, but it hadn’t.
I’d been crabby since she left. Maggie and Tina kept asking how the date went and I kept brushing them off because I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about it with the guys either. What was there to even say? I had the best date of my life and then she took off forever? I didn’t want their opinions about it or their pity either, and they’d probably try to give me both.
“Have you talked to her?” Jesse asked.
“I texted her,” I said. “The day after our date. Asked her if she got in okay and if the cat’s been having normal bowel movements.”
Mike put his weight down with a clank. “You asked her if her cat took a shit…” he deadpanned.
“Travel can be stressful on medically fragile animals—”
“Yeah, dude, I get the whole veterinarian thing—” He shook his head at me. “Did you try talking to her? Like an actual conversation that isn’t about her kitten’s asshole?”
Chris snorted.
“She told me to forget her—”
“I know what she told you. I just didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to actually do it.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” I said. “She’s two thousand miles away.”
“People date long-distance,” Chris said.
“How?” I said. “I barely get days off. How would I see her if she’s not here?”
“Aren’t you the boss? Can’t you decide what days you get off work?” Mike asked.
“It’s not that easy. I have to be available on Saturdays for my patients because I’m the only doctor. And I have the rescue.”
“Then do less of the rescue shit,” Mike said. “They don’t even pay you.”
“That’s not the point. They need me,” I said.
“You can take a pass once in a while, it’s not gonna be the end of the world.” He picked up his weight again. “I have never seen you like that with anyone. Why would you let that go, dude?” Mike shook his head.
“Agree,” Jesse said.
Chris nodded.
I stared out into the gym. They weren’t wrong.
I checked Murkle’s Instagram half a dozen times a day. It was getting pathetic. I had to physically restrain myself from liking every mustard post she did so I didn’t look like a serial killer.
“Why don’t you fly out and see her?” Chris asked.
I raked my fingers into my hair and squeezed. “I can’t afford to start something like this. The clinic isn’t paid off. I barely take a paycheck. I have rent, student loans, a car payment, bills .”
“Okay. Then forget her,” Mike said, doing his reps.
I couldn’t do that either.
The truth was I’d already planned the trip. I’d done everything short of actually booking it. I’d been doing it since three days after she left.
I was hoping my friends would talk me off this ledge or at least talk some sense into me because every single thing I’d said was true. I didn’t have the money or the time. There was absolutely nothing rational or practical about any of this. But…
Maybe I needed to go.
Maybe I would see her and the magic would be gone. Or maybe she was dating someone else already. An old boyfriend who’d popped up when she got back in town. Some guy in my same situation, who’d lost her to the Minnesota relocation and was just waiting for the chance to have another shot, swooping in and sweeping her off her feet. Maybe it was the semiprofessional baseball player. I definitely did not like the ex-boyfriend scenario. At all .
In fact, now I felt a little panicked. What if I’d messed up and waited too long and now she was with someone else and I’d never know if it could have been something. I’d have zero closure, I’d always wonder what if.
All this for a woman I’d spent twelve hours with and hadn’t even kissed. It was absolutely ridiculous.
My brain didn’t care.
I slipped into a dark silence while the guys talked among themselves. When it was my turn to do reps, I waved them off.
I felt like I should call her. Now. Get up and go to the parking lot and call her from the car.
Or text her. Maybe calling was too aggressive.
But I really wanted to talk to her.
Fuck, I was a mess.
I pulled out my phone and checked the newest post on Murkle’s Instagram page. It was a meme of a woman looking longingly at a mustard bottle with the caption “ Mustard doesn’t ask silly questions. Mustard understands. ”
The corner of my lip twitched up.
We’d never followed each other on socials. I’d tried to search for her, but she didn’t come up so I’d made my account public in case she tried to find me instead. I’d posted an Instagram story yesterday of me holding a puppy at the clinic. I knew she’d like it if she saw it.
I went to the story and clicked to see who’d viewed it, hoping maybe her name would be there. Then I remembered why I kept my personal socials private.
My dad’s little profile picture made my jaw go tight.
My parents didn’t keep tabs on me because they were proud. They did it because they wanted to be proven right: that I was a failure and didn’t amount to anything after I’d left the regiment that was their household. And even though it was clear that I had made something of myself, I knew what they were hoping for every time they looked. They didn’t wish me well, they didn’t smile when they saw me thriving.
An old family friend had reached out to me a few years ago. Sent as an ambassador in an attempt at a reconciliation.
Apparently my mother had developed MS and my dad was disabled. The friend left the details of that part of it vague, but if I had to guess it was alcohol-related in one way or another.
This friend let me know that it was my duty to honor my aging parents and care for them after “all they did for me.” I’d scoffed in his face.
No apology, no reflection on their behavior, no ownership over how I was treated or mention of them missing me. Just indignation that I wouldn’t blindly cater to and respect them simply for bringing me into this world.
A few days later my dad emailed me an incoherent rant about how ungrateful I was and how I’d die alone for how I’d treated my family. And now he checked on me every chance he got, just to make sure he was right.
He was too social media inept to know I could see when he viewed my stories.
I didn’t want to block him. Blocking him was engagement. It let him know that I’d noticed he was there, and that it bothered me enough to remove him. Blocking him or putting my profile back to private was a reaction and I swore they’d never get a reaction out of me again. So I did nothing.
I put my phone down instead.