Chapter Seventeen #2
I blow out a breath and nod my understanding. “I get that, totally.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, grasping my forearm in her warm hand. “I shouldn’t be talking about that when I’m on a date with you.”
“Listen, you have no need to apologize. I’m in a similar boat.”
Her grip tightens. “Oh, God, tell me so I don’t feel quite so alone.”
“I’ll share if you will.”
“Deal.”
I let her go first, and she proceeds to tell me all about Deborah, her most recent girlfriend. It seems Deborah had both a jealous streak and an assumption that once they became official, Kya’s job would magically stop taking so many hours in her day.
“I did my best to curb my time at the office,” Kya tells me. “But it’s hard in my line of work. John’s got a lot of clients, and they’re demanding. Things need to be done when they need to be done. So not doing as much in the office sometimes meant answering calls and emails from home.”
“Which Deborah didn’t handle well,” I surmise.
“Which Deborah didn’t handle well.” Kya sighs and switches from her water to her cabernet. “She was wonderful in many ways. But the job thing became a constant source of angst for us.”
“Oh, I understand that,” I say. “I dated a woman once who said I talked too much about my writing, which I then internalized until I didn’t talk about it at all, and she never asked about it.
Took me longer than it should have to realize what a narcissist she was.
Everything was about her. If I didn’t bring something up that related to me, nothing about me was ever discussed.
But when I did bring it up something personal, I was made to feel self-centered.
I spent much of the relationship utterly confused.
Once I figured it all out, it just made me so sad. ”
“Ugh. That’s hard. Is that the one you’re getting over now?” Kya asks, her voice gentle.
“No.” I shake my head and sip my wine and find that I am surprisingly not hesitant to talk about Marina to Kya. “No, she’s more recent and has just reappeared after about four months to talk.” I widen my eyes for a second—because even just saying it out loud sounds nuts—and have another sip.
“What?” Kya is understandably confused, and before I even realize it, I’m telling her the entire story of me and Marina.
Every last detail. How we met, how it started, how amazing it was, how it was casual, but also not, how it became almost domestic in its comfort and warmth, how it ended, the subsequent months since, and her showing up out of the blue to chat.
“My God, your head must be spinning,” she says when I finish, and laughs a soft laugh. “Mine is.”
“Understatement of the year, right there,” I say with a slightly bitter laugh.
“What will you do?” Kya’s dark eyes are wide, and she’s leaned in slightly, clearly invested.
“I am honestly at such a loss right now,” I say, and it’s me being completely open and honest. With her and with myself.
“I can imagine.” She studies me over the rim of her glass as she sips.
“What?” I ask, after a moment of her simply looking at me.
“I think you should hear her out.”
I tip my head, more than surprised by her words. “You do?”
A nod. “Just from your story, it sounds to me like you two really had something, and I’m wondering if it was something she’d never felt before, and therefore didn’t know how to handle.”
I press my lips together as I absorb her words.
“Which is not an excuse for her shitty behavior,” she adds. “Don’t get me wrong.” She looks into her glass for a moment before meeting my eyes. “Your face lit up when you talked about her and your time together. Like, I don’t know you well, but I could tell your feelings for her run deep.”
I’m glad for the dim lighting of the restaurant because I’m pretty sure I’m blushing right now.
“Seems to me like it’d be a mistake not to at least listen to what she has to say.” She lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “Just my observations.”
And just like that, I learn two facts. One: Kya is going to end up being my friend, no matter what happens down the road.
And two: Kya is right. No matter how upset, angry, or bitter I am about the way things ended and the way they’ve gone for the past four months, I’d like to hear what Marina has to say.
As I sit there at the dinner table and Jessie meets my eye across it and winks, I know without a doubt that I will be reaching out to Marina.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to wait and not do it tonight when I get home.
Because if nothing else, she deserves to sit and wonder for a bit.
But I think Kya is right. I think maybe I should at least listen to what Marina has to say.
When I pull myself out of my head and return to the dinner, Kya is grinning at me. “Just hear her out. That’s all I’m saying.”
I touch my glass to hers. “You are a truly nice person, Kya.”
She sighs wistfully. “I know. That’s always been my problem.”
We return to dinner, and the rest of the evening is a lot of fun. I feel a kinship with Kya that I didn’t expect, and while we both know we’re not going to end up dating, we will end up hanging. Jessie is disappointed but seems to accept it as we all say our goodbyes outside the restaurant.
Davis and Guy grab a cab and wave through the window as they pull away. Celia and Jeffrey decide to take the subway home and begin walking. Kya hugs me as her Uber arrives.
“You have my number,” she says quietly in my ear. “Let me know how it goes.”
“I will,” I promise. She gets into the car and I shut the door after her and watch as she pulls away.
“No go, huh?” Jessie stands next to me and bumps me with her hip.
“Oh, she was wonderful,” I say. “Truly a great person.”
“But you’re still in Italy.” There’s no sadness or accusation in her voice. Only fact—and possibly a trace of understanding?
“I am,” I say with a nod, and for the first time in four months, I feel like I can see the path ahead of me. “But it’s okay.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. It is.” I hail a cab, then turn to hug Jessie. “Thank you for tonight. I had a great time.” I jerk a thumb at my cab. “Wanna share?”
Jessie squeezes my hand. “Nah. I’m going the other way.” She holds my gaze for a beat, then taps her finger on my chest over my heart. “Take care of this first, okay? It’s important to me.”
I hug her again, suddenly filled with gratitude for her friendship. “I will. Promise.”
I climb into the cab. Jessie shuts the door and steps back with a wave. I blow out a breath and somehow feel…I don’t know how to describe it accurately. Easier? Lighter? Relieved? Determined? All of those things?
Yeah. Maybe all.
I watch the city go by as we drive…this city I love so much.
A few of the longer Broadway shows are just letting out and the atmosphere is jovial, as it so often is here in this part of town.
And in that moment, I think about taking Marina to her first Broadway show, what she’d think.
Would she love it? Would she be bored? I feel like these are things I suddenly have to know. Have to.
But I also want to wait.
Once I’m home, I leash up Reggie and zip my phone into my pocket so I’m not tempted to send any certain Italian women texts. We walk, Reggie does his business, and we head back inside.
While I perform my evening routine, I purposely leave my phone charging in the kitchen instead of the bedroom.
It’s not that far away, but it’s far enough.
I brush my teeth, wash my face, use the facilities, and change into my pj’s.
Leaving my phone in the kitchen is harder than I expect, and for a moment or two, I wonder if I feel at all like an addict going through withdrawal, picturing the phone, wanting it, having to consciously keep myself in bed.
But I turn on the television and find an episode of Dateline I haven’t seen, and once I’m sucked in, the phone fades away.
Reggie lets out one of those deep, grumbling sighs that dogs make as they’re settling down for sleep, and I lay my hand on his warm body.
As Keith Morrison’s soothing voice lulls me to sleep, I dream of random texts, letters floating through my mind.
Looking for the perfect words is part of life for me, so instead of stressing me out, this dream calms me.
I’m asleep before Keith tells me whodunit.