36. Waverly
CHAPTER 36
WAVERLY
Brown and cream-colored art float atop my Frappuccino, designed specifically for a woman named “Everly.” Or that’s what the barista thought I said when I gave her my name.
I stir my drink slowly, taking in the euphoria from my meeting. Three of theinvestors I met with were dog lovers, and they loved the idea of building a dog sanctuary so much, they decided to invest. I’ve never had a big girl meeting like that before, and my heart was racing in the best way, but I nailed it.
Note to self: Passion equals drive. Passion equals success.
I’d love nothing more than to call everyone I know, but instead I opt in for the sounds of silence. Well, coffee shop type of silence. I’ll call my mom and Victoria when I get home once my high-on-life wears off.
I pull out the book Roman gifted me. Another item checked off my bucket list. Read more books. It took about three months for me to open it. I don’t know why I thought it would be a copy of Unf*ck Yourself , but it wasn’t. It’s about a man who had a chanceto win over a woman but HE fucked it up. She ended up with someone else. Someone she has nothing in common with. A safer choice, nonetheless. Years go by until the love interest and main character see each other again—and when they do, it’s like nothing has ever changed between them. They still longed for each other even though she was with another man. I haven’t been able to put this book down. It’s the fourth time I’ve read it in weeks.
Every time I open the damn thing, Roman drifts to the forefront of my mind. And he stays there like a rash. A rash I love to itch. Ew. That was a bad analogy.
My phone stares back at me, begging me to pick it up and dial the one person I want nothing more than to call and share my good news with. Five freakin’ months. Five months, I’ve beenfighting the urge to contact Roman. Instead, I turn my phone face down because that will help. Right?
“Is this seat taken?” A deep, yet gentle, voice comes from in front of me. I drag my eyes from my overturned phone up to the man. He gives me a genuine smile, his eyes dark brown and black hair combed perfectly with gray peppered in on the sides—not a hair out of place.
“Sure.” What am I supposed to say? No? I look around and every seat is filled except the one in front of me. Maybe I should have called my mom.
“What are you reading?” He’s one of those. The kind of person who talks to someone when they’re reading. Those types are my favorite. Not.
I hold up the cover, staying silent, hoping he’ll get the hint.
“Ahh, right person, wrong time?”
I stare at him confused. “Have you read it?”
He laughs an endearing laugh. I’m sure if I wasn’t currently holed up in my apartment bettering myself , I’d be interested in simple conversation. But he has piqued my curiosity, if just for a moment.
He takes a sip from his drink. Andrew. “No. It says on the front.”
That pulls a laugh from me. I check the front of the book, and right there in italicized letters it reads, ‘Right person, wrong time…’
“Touché, Andrew.” I smile.
“Call me Drew, please. Last time I gave the barista my name, she wrote ‘Jew.’ Andrew is much safer for her job and my drinking coffee in public.”
I laugh again. He’s funny.
“Well, okay, Drew. Do you always talk to people when they’re trying to read?” I half joke.
“Nope. Just when I’m trying desperately to get to know someone,” he chimes, staring me down with his sparkling eyes.
He chugs another sip of his hopefully not hot coffee, and asks, “I know this is forward and soon, but I’d kick myself if I didn’t ask—would you like to go on a date with me?”
“Ha!” I place my bookmark in the book and put it down. “I’ve tried that before.”
“Just the one time?” He beams a panty-dropping smile.
I shake my head, unaware that I’m about to spill my life to a perfect stranger named Drew. “I’ve dated plenty. I was actually engaged until he died. Eventually started dating his brother until the dead guy came back from the dead.” Drew’s eyes widen and his mouth juts open.
“I always seem to be disappointed in the end, which is why I’m not dating right now.” I take in a shaky breath. “Just taking a break.”
He rubs his hand over the short hair on his chin, I suppose contemplating what he can possibly say to that . “You’re obviously dating the wrong men if they are dying and then resurrecting,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Funny guy. Let me guess…you’re the right kind of man?” I roll my eyes. Just another typical dude trying to dip his pen in fresh ink. The tattoos on his neck peek out from underneath the collar of his dress shirt while his ink-clad hands rest around his coffee cup.
“Nope. Never said that. I’m probably just as bad as the rest of them. But you won’t know til you try.” He polishes off his drink and tosses the cup in the trashcan a few tables away.
Good aim.
“Well, if I ever decide to date again, I’ll be sure to let you know Drew no-last-name.” I smirk, feeling feisty, and pick up my book again.
“May I ask you a question?” This guy doesn’t give up.
I glance at my book and back at him. “Sure. You don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.”
A handsome grin forms on his face. Jesus. If only I wasn’t head over heels in love with a Huxley brother.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asks, eyes drilling into mine.
“B–” My throat is dry and I cough. “Blue.” Another smile.
He rummages through his briefcase. I don’t ask him his favorite color or anything about him.
I refuse to look at him, but I see him rustling around. “Here’s my number.” He stands and I bring my eyes to meet his. He really is handsome, just not right now. So I take the slip of paper with the blue marker from his hand.
“I know I most likely won’t hear from you, but if you ever just need to talk…” He glances down at my cup. “Everly…” A smile threatens to escape me at the barista’s mistake. “I can lend a good ear.” With that, he turns and leaves.
That maybe could have led somewhere great, but unless your last name is Huxley, I don’t think it’s in the cards for us. But I tuck the paper in my bag anyway, you know, in case pigs start to fly. Never hurts to have a back-up.
Ugh. I don’t even like the way that sounded. I need a hot bath.
Several minutes later, I’m home with my excitement in tow. I have yet to call anybody and tell them about my finalized business agreement.
“This is the type of day the windows need to be open. Release the murky energy, and allow the breeze to cleanse the air.” Great. Now I’m talking to myself like a hippie. But I open the windows anyway, and do exactly that. I stand still in the living room, welcoming the gentle coastal cross breeze. Nothing is more peaceful.
A rustle of paper comes from the kitchen table lying next to an envelope with a daisy attached.
W–
My parents and Patrick have decided to throw me a 25th birthday party at their house on the lake. I insisted we do something else, like a nice dinner or quiet day fishing, but they refuse.
I would love if you could join us. There will be a ton of people, so it won’t be too intimate. You can bring a friend if you’d like.
imy.
–R
“Imy.” A text we would send each other randomly over the early years of this friendship. I thought he forgot about it. It usually meant “I need to vent.” But something about these letters doesn’t feel like it packs the same meaning. It feels loaded—with feelings. Like an actual “I miss you.”
August twelfth. His birthday. A day that I never forgot, even when he disappeared from my life. A day that I’ve hated for three years. But now that he’s back, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Dearest Waverly,
I’m sure the news you received from your ex-fiancé was hard to swallow. I’m not here to condone or condemn what he has done.
“Someone must risk returning injury with kindness, or hostility will never turn to goodwill.” -Lao-tzu
Resentment comes from one’s unwillingness to end the altercation with love, kindness, or authentic forgiveness. Once you master overcoming your ego and tuck aside your attitude, ask yourself “How can I serve?” The universe will respond with happiness and joy that you are finally acting as if the universe itself is.
“To the giver comes the fullness of life; to the taker, just an empty hand.” -Lao-tzu
Although you resent Patrick now for his actions, no matter if he is your partner or not, be a giver. ‘Bring love to hate and light to darkness.’
Before I leave you, know that time is simply an illusion. It’s irrelevant and distracts us with side questions. It’s an attempt to create an abstract notion out of observations of which are concrete. Changes are happening, but nothing that we can say exists in “pure” time. Release the chain of mirages that hold us back: Time, Space, etc. Once we are cut free of them, we are free to be one with the earth…in life or in death.
If this is the last letter you receive, know that my words came from years of reading Change Your Thoughts—Change Your Life by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer.
When you can’t contact me, you will find my words through him.
Much love,
Tom