Chapter Thirty-Four
Gray
“Can I make a phone call?” I ask the police officer who escorted me from the cell where I spent the morning. I don’t recall the cops taking me off the street last night. Or how I ended up with an assortment of mottled bruises on my ribs that hurt with every move I make.
I wince as I brush my fingers over the bump on the back of my head. That’s also a mystery. My phone, wallet, and the keys to the rental car weren’t on me when I woke, but I figured the officer who put me in the drunk tank probably took them off me.
I don’t really remember how I ended up here. The last thing I recall with any clarity was fuming over America leaving me for Indy while the bartender poured my second drink.
Apparently last night I got disastrously drunk and decided to walk the streets of Amsterdam with a bottle of scotch and a really good argument over why I’m an idiot. Also, my escort said something about how I urinated in a public fountain and that I’ll be fined for both bad decisions.
I made so many bad choices yesterday. Fighting with America. Ending things with some stupid idea that it wouldn’t hurt as much if I did it immediately instead of waiting for the day when she left me like Indy did. The officer gestures for me to sit down at a desk and then takes the chair opposite and starts writing up my paperwork. The sun peeking through the blinds is aggravating. I could do with a couple of Tylenol and a sports drink for my throbbing head.
I stare at the telephone perched on the desk. America must be thinking the absolute worst. The things I said to her yesterday. Then I disappeared. Didn’t call her. Left her thinking we were over when I just needed a pause to catch my breath. As soon as I’m done here, I’m going to fix things.
I’m in too deep to not have my heart broken if we don’t work out. I love her with every beat and every breath. I love who we are together. And it is terrifying. But it’s not something I’m going to run away from just because the good comes with some other stuff I don’t love so much. Like letting go of the hurt and the bitterness I’ve been harboring. Rebuilding bridges.
Forgiving Indy so that I can be with America… I’m not sure I’m there yet. But it isn’t about Indy. Or me. Or who we used to be to each other. It’s about America and who I want to be when I’m around her.
The officer hands me my fines. “Where do I collect my belongings?” I ask as I stand.
His brows draw together. “You had nothing on you when you were brought in.”
“I had keys. My wallet. My phone.” I pat down my pockets like I’ll find those items are still on me. I must have lost them somewhere. My head pounds as I try to mentally retrace my steps. I glance at the landline. “Can I make a call?”
The officer nods.
I pick up the handset and run through the limited numbers I have stored in my memory. Everything is on my phone. Including America’s number, which I never thought I’d have a reason to need as badly as I do.
There are only two numbers that I know by heart beside my own, and there’s no way I’m calling Indy. I tap in my best friend’s number while searching for a clock.
The Airbnb checkout time was an hour ago. Shit. America could be on the train by now. Fuck. My passport is in the rental car. I can retrieve it, if I can find the keys.
“This is Edward James Jones.”
My best friend’s tired but steady tone brings my heart rate closer to normal. “EJ, thank God.”
“Gray? Why are you calling me so early?” He yawns and there’s a rustling sound. And then a feminine murmur.
“You’re with someone?” Is he dating someone? Have we been out of touch long enough for that to be news?
“What’s going on?” He ignores my question. “You sound stressed.”
“That could be because I’m in a police station in Amsterdam.” I turn away from the officer and lower my voice. “I kind of fucked up.”
“Tell me you didn’t commit a felony,” EJ says among further rustling.
“No felony. A couple fines. Public drunkenness and urinating in a fountain.”
He sucks in a breath.
“It was a bad night.” His silence goes on so long, I start to think we got cut off. “And I seem to have misplaced my phone, wallet, and keys.”
“This is a joke, right?” he says finally. “Because the Grayson I know has never lost his—”
“I’m afraid it’s not,” I say as the officer indicates that I should wind it up. “And I really need your help.”
“This story is going to be wild, isn’t it? Tell me it involves a beautiful woman.”
“The most beautiful.” Not that he’ll appreciate that.
A woman who must be so upset with me.
“You owe me that story,” he says. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”
By the time we end our call, he has a new phone being delivered to the station as a first step.
The officer shows me to the waiting area. Not long after a guy comes in to deliver the phone.
My knee jiggles as I call up my carrier’s customer service and ask them to help me wipe my old phone and transfer everything over to the new one. I prowl the waiting area as the minutes tick by. I need to talk to America. I need to tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry I disappeared on her. I need to hear her voice. I need her to tell me that I haven’t wrecked us because I couldn’t let go of my bitterness.
Eventually I have her number.
It rings out.
I call it again.
It rings out.
Maybe she has it on silent. Or she’s out of service. Or she’s sleeping. She likes to rest her head on my shoulder and let the train rock her to sleep, and she probably didn’t get much last night.
Or she doesn’t want to talk to me.
I check my voice messages. My Messenger. It becomes clear that I’ve done more damage than I can fix with a single phone call. I text her to tell her that I’m sorry. That I’ll explain everything as soon as I see her. If she’ll hear me out.
When the text goes unseen, I’m not surprised.
My heart sinks all the same. I focus on cancelling my bank cards and setting up alternate funds. Then head out to see if I can retrace my steps.
I pass an alley that makes my scalp prickle and brings up a shadowy memory of being punched in the ribs by a guy while two of his buddies watch.
Was I mugged last night? The longer I stand there the more certain I am that I was rolled for my wallet and phone and watch.
The alley is dirty and gray in the afternoon light. I wander along it scouring the ground in case they dumped any of my possessions. The keys to the rental are wedged under a trash can, and I snatch them up like they’re gold.
The one smart decision I made yesterday was leaving my passport and laptop in the trunk. If I find the car I can catch the earliest train home. I need to see Rica before she leaves to go to the Dells.
Eventually I have to admit defeat when I can’t find the car. I’m dehydrated so I find a café and order water and coffee while I figure out my next move. Without a passport I can’t go anywhere. And I really need to get to Rica.
I call the rental company and report the car missing. They have a GPS system, but it’ll take time for them to get back to me.
I check to see if America has seen my message. She hasn’t.
A man walks past, grinning when I make eye contact. Coming over, he claps me on the back and says in an English accent, “How are you feeling today?”
“Did I meet you last night?”
“You were in your cups.” He nods and sits across from me. Making himself comfortable, he rolls a long, thin cigarette. He puts it to his lips and lights it. The aroma is not unpleasant. It’s almost sweet. “Did you make up with your girl?”
“I will.” But she’s home by now, and who knows how long it will be before I can sort out my passport. “As soon as I catch up to her.”
“It’s like that, huh?”
“It’s like that.” I tap my fingers on my knee. I need to ask EJ to collect the extra copies of my ID in case I need them sent to the consulate.
“What you need is a grand gesture,” the man says. “You hurt her heart. And now you’re running around Amsterdam instead of mending things with her.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be fixing things with her.” I leave the man to enjoy the rest of his cigarette. Walking away, I call EJ.
“I just got off the phone with Indy,” he says when he answers. “America is bringing Dove to the Dells.”
“You like Dove.”
“I don’t. She’s a ridiculous party girl. She has dreadful habits.” He pauses. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Okay.”
“The thing is America just broke up with her boyfriend. It turns out she was sorta dating a famous soccer player.”
“Really?”
“Indy showed me a photo. She’d done her homework. Want to take a guess at which soccer player?”
I have to come clean. “Listen—”
“Everett Mann.” The name drops like an anvil. “The same famous soccer player you’ve been courting for months.”
I can still salvage this. “EJ—”
“Do you really think I don’t know how thorough you are when you’re trying to woo a client? I’ve seen you treat their family and partners like they’re just as important.”
“I tried to stay away from her,” I confess.
“I told you dating America was a terrible idea.”
“I know, and I tried to keep my distance, but I couldn’t, and I can’t, and I won’t.” So much has changed. I had my heart broken. My entire world fell apart. I lost my identity. And my job. “Your sister was right. We weren’t right for each other. We settled on each other because we cared deeply for one another, but not because we made each other happy. I didn’t bring out the best parts of Indy, and she didn’t enhance them in me. I understand why we needed to break up, and I’m glad for it.”
Not so much for the how. I don’t know if I can ever put that behind me.
“And America makes you happy?” EJ sounds disbelieving.
“I’ve never been as happy or as much myself as I am with her. I quit All-Star for her. I started my own company. We have fun together, but we’re serious about each other. She’s my family, EJ. I’m sorry that I lied to you. I’m sorry that you don’t like the idea of us being in a relationship, but I don’t need you to. She’s all the family I need. I want to be the guy she can depend on to be her support system, and—”
“Okay. I get the picture,” he says. “But she’s coming home. And from what Indy said, bro, I think she’s coming home to stay.”
The air knocked out of me, I hang up without asking him about the copies of my ID. I hover my thumb over her number. I told her to go home. Calling her wouldn’t be enough even if she answered her phone.
Calling her doesn’t fix the fact that so much has changed, but some things never will.
Indy is her family. Theo is a part of that now too. And she misses them. She needs to be able to be with someone who can handle her community.
I’m not sure if I’m capable of forgiving Indy or even being around her. Let alone having to share space with a man I still want to knock the fuck out. Who probably wants to punch my lights out too.
But if I want America in my life, I’m going to have to try.