35. Early 2020
Chapter thirty-five
Early 2020
Maria
I reach over to the end table, the scent of the wine wafting towards me as I take a sip from the glass. The red Merlot burns slightly on the way down. Unlike the glass of Pinot I had right before this.
It’s a typical Saturday night for me. On the couch, legs covered in my favorite fleece-lined blue fuzzy blanket, and I’m catching up on some shows I recorded during the week. On the TV for tonight’s viewing pleasure, This Is Us .
Brielle is out with her boyfriend Tony, and Mason is at his buddy’s house. And here I sit, hanging out with the fictional Pearson family, wishing Jack Pearson was my husband and not Rebecca’s.
“I need a man like Jack.” Maybe sending this out into the cosmos will make it happen.
From my lips to God’s ears.
My dream scenario plays out in my head. He would be here sitting next to me, with some scotch. Nestled under the blanket together, our bodies intertwined, radiating heat and closeness. His arm would be slung over the back of the couch as I rest my head on his chest. We would wait until the end of the show and start making out like teenagers .
My head hits the back of the couch, and I remember I had that once. With Sam. I try to rid the thoughts from my brain because I need to forget. Anytime I fantasize about what my life would be like with a loving and caring husband, the man in my thoughts is always Sam.
But he is with Cara, and I haven’t talked to him since that day in his car a year and a half ago.
It still hurts.
After that day, seeing him occasionally in that stupid parking lot weighed on me. As hard as both of us tried to prevent a run-in, we would see each other now and then. Our schedules lining up to arrive or leave at the same time. He would ignore me, or sometimes, I would get a small wave with a sad, forced smile. I never waved back.
Other times, I would hide in my car and watch him. I would see him walking into work, talking and laughing on the phone. Probably with Cara. Sometimes, I wouldn’t see him for a month or two, and I could feel myself getting better. Then BAM! There he’d be, and the pain would come bubbling to the surface again.
Richelle wanted to key his car or slash is tires. I had to reign her in more times than I can count.
I couldn’t take it anymore, so after a year, I put in for a transfer to the office clear across town. Because of my seniority, they granted my request without asking any questions. It devastated Richelle, but she understood.
I thought that not seeing him would help ease the pain of losing him … again. It did, but only slightly. And that’s because I found Cara’s Instagram. Her account is public. I think the woman loves the attention. And because I enjoy torturing myself, I constantly look at it. Her feed is full of pictures of her posing in the mirror at the gym, sweaty after a workout. Or modeling short little dresses in front of a full-length mirror in her bedroom. Or after she gets her hair done. Where? You guessed it, in front of a mirror, of course.
Trust me, I’ve looked at Sam’s Instagram as well. He rarely posts. His last photo was one day after our fight in the car. A picture of them, in a dimly lit restaurant. The caption said, “To new beginnings with this amazing woman. ”
If he was trying to make a point, he succeeded.
However, he has never unfollowed me. Which is interesting. Not that he would see much since I never post. My life to too boring.
The last picture of the two of them in Cara’s feed pops into my head. They were on a beach together with her svelte, toned body in a red bikini, kissing him on the cheek as he holds his phone out for the selfie. His six-pack abs, big beaming smile, and clear happiness were on full display.
I grimace at the thought and finish the last of the wine in my glass, shaking it in the air, getting every drop. I sit it down with semi-aggression, let out a small burp, and pull my concentration back to my show.
It’s a sweet episode. Kate and Toby are trying to adopt. I’m happy for them. Especially now since they have finally got into a routine of raising their blind son. A new baby would be good for them. They are such a solid couple…
“God, Maria, snap out of it!” I need to get a grip on myself. I’m thinking about Kate and Toby as they are real people and my friends. These fictional characters hold a stronger place in my heart than any real person.
“I’m so stinking lonely.”
Truthfully, since my divorce, then the whole supposed Sam reconnection, I haven’t been me. I can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction in myself on both occasions, though. I took a stand, advocating for myself and what I needed. Pride fills my heart every time I think about it.
But also, life has become so mundane. I’m forty-five years old, and all my life consists of is my kids (whom I adore), my job, and my Saturday night dates with the TV and a good cabernet.
Pathetic.
Brielle and Mason have more of a social life than I do.
Doubly pathetic.
I wonder what Amanda and Richelle have going on tomorrow. Maybe a girls’ brunch is in order. We haven’t had one in a while, and I need to get out more. I pause my show before I reach for my phone lying on the coffee table in front of me. I type out a group text to my two best friends.
Me: Hey ladies! Anyone up for brunch tomorrow? Say 11 at Nikki's. My treat.
Their replies come almost immediately.
Richelle: YES! That sounds awesome. I’ve been craving their chicken and waffles.
Amanda: I’m there.
Me: Perfect! See you both then.
I sit my phone down, pleased with myself that I’m at least attempting to get out. On a normal Sunday, you can find me at home cleaning my house. However, a mimosa with some pancakes and girl time sounds downright divine.
I’m mentally picking out my outfit for tomorrow as I readjust myself and snuggle back into the couch. As soon as I hit play, Jack kisses Rebecca.
I groan at the TV.
“Will you please stop looking at her Instagram? You’re torturing yourself, and it’s not healthy,” Amanda pleads as she raises the flute glass to her red-tinted lips and sips her strawberry mimosa. We are at Nikki’s, enjoying brunch and each other’s company out on their closed in patio dining. The tall heaters are ablaze on this chilly February day, spreading a comforting heat throughout the space.
“I know. I know,” I say as I continue to scroll through pictures that I have looked at thousands of times. After I crawled into bed last night, I opened up Cara’s page because, of course, I did. She had posted a new picture only an hour before. A black-and-white of their hands intertwined, resting on his thighs. The caption read, ‘Nothing better than a quiet evening with my man. ’
Whatever.
One thing that caught my attention was the absence of a ring on her left finger.
Thank God.
“You need to stop. You’re borderline obsessed. It’s been a year and a half now, Maria. You need to let go.” Now it’s Richelle’s turn to chastise me as I hold my phone in my hand, scrolling. I ignore her because I know she’s right. As I pass the pictures from last year, a tightness builds in my chest. Him, Cara, and Mikey at Cedar Point Amusement Park, standing in front of the entrance. One big happy family.
“That’s it!” Before I can react, and with lightning-fast reflexes, Amanda grabs my phone out of my hand.
“Hey!” I reach across the table to try to retrieve it as she yanks her arm away. She taps a few times on the screen and hands it back to me.
“There. Done.”
I look at the phone, and it’s back to my home screen. My kids and I smile back at me. “What did you do?”
“I blocked her account. And I know you can unblock her, but I’m begging you not to. I’m worried about you, Maria. Constantly looking at those pictures is doing nothing but making you more depressed than you already are.”
I raise my voice in shock. “I’m not depressed!”
Richelle raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I have my kids, my job, you guys, my …” I trail off because, well, that’s kinda it. But I need to clarify. “Honest, guys, I’m not depressed. I’m lonely. That’s two different things.”
Amanda reaches across the table and rests her hand over mine, empathy etched on her face.
I elaborate. “You guys need to understand. There is this pull with Sam and me. I can’t explain it. I know he hasn’t been mine for a really, really long time, but he will always feel like mine. As if we belong together. We’ve done this same back-and-forth for so long now, and he was my best friend. And just when it feels like it’s our time, Cara happens. And now, it feels like I’ve lost him forever. I know that sounds stupid and juvenile, but it’s the truth. So, seeing him with her, looking happy, is like a knife to my heart.”
Richelle reaches for my other hand. My girls. My friends. My support. “That doesn’t sound dumb.” Her tone is soft. “It sounds like you still love him.”
A single tear leaves my eye and trails down my cheek. “I always will.” I shrug.
Amanda squeezes, then lets go of my hand and takes a bite of her salad. “You need to date someone,” she says with her mouth full as she points her fork at me. “And I know just the guy.”
Richelle starts clapping. “Yes! Who is it?”
“Mm … Mm. Nope. I do not want to date anyone.” I sling myself back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest in defiance.
“Why not? I’m not talking about getting married. Just go out with the guy and see what happens. You need to get off your couch, turn off the TV, and kiss a really handsome man.”
“Ooooo … handsome, huh?” Richelle leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, placing her chin in her hands, waggling her eyebrows.
Amanda gives her a side glance. “Very, very good looking. If I wasn’t a happily married woman, I would be interested.”
Richelle looks my way. “That’s high praise coming from her.”
I look between the two of them and sigh in defeat. “Ugh. Fine. What’s he look like?”
A satisfied smile crosses Amanda’s lips as she gets her phone and unlocks it. “His name is Geoffrey, with a G.”
“Seriously? Geoffrey with a G ?” I ask mockingly. She can't be serious.
Richelle lets out a snort beside me. “What?” Amanda asks, her eyes darting between the two of us.
“He sounds pretentious.” I take a sip of my mimosa, feeling like I’m going to need it to get through this.
“Hey now, don’t be a snob. He didn’t choose his name.” Amanda slaps my arm, then goes back to searching on her phone.
“Okay. Fair point. ”
She continues her scrolling. “He’s a partner at the firm, and he’s divorced with no kids.”
“So, he has baggage?” I ask.
Amanda raises her eyebrow. “And like you don’t?”
I lift my glass to her. “Touche.” I down the rest of my drink to ready myself for this.
Amanda arches one eyebrow. “Anyway, here.” She flashes her phone in my face, and staring back at me is one of the most handsome men I have ever seen.
My eyes widen. “Oh.”
“I wanna see!” Richelle grabs Amanda’s arm and pulls it towards her. “Wowzers. Hello there, Geoffrey with a G. He really has a whole Channing Tatum vibe going on, doesn’t he? I wonder if he can dance?”
I snicker at this because Richelle isn’t wrong. He does look exactly like Channing. Which one hundred percent works for me.
“See what I mean,” Amanda continues. “Maria, he is the nicest guy. Honest. You are my best friend, and I wouldn’t set you up with a tool. Get this … his wife cheated on him with his cousin.”
We crinkle our noses up at this. “Gross,” Richelle says. I’m an expert on cheating spouses. At least we would have that in common.
“He was devastated for the longest time but has bounced back and is ready to start seeing people again.” She’s staring at me now, eagerness written on her face, wanting the green light to set me up with Geoffrey with a G. But for some reason, I’m hesitant.
“I don’t know, you guys.”
“Look.” Amanda sits her phone down. “What is Sam doing right now?” She jams her finger into the table.
“Why are you asking me that?” I’m annoyed with where I know this conversation is going.
“He’s probably out having breakfast with Cara. Or maybe kissing her across the table at whatever restaurant. They might be doing some kind of domestic thing, like refinishing a dresser or grocery shopping. I don’t know! My point is, he has moved on. The two of them are vacationing together, spending time with Mikey. He’s happy. So why can’t you be?”
I sit back in my chair again and ponder what Amanda said. She’s right. Why am I sitting around my house in my pajamas, watching TV, drowning my sorrows in wine when I could be out having a good time? Me and Geoffrey with a G. Sam and his abs are having fun with Cara and her red bikini. More than likely, not giving my miserable existence a second thought. He made his choice.
Now it’s time for me to make mine. I choose myself. I need to start living and move on.
Sam is my past. I am ready for my future.
“Let’s do it.” The words spill out of my mouth before I have a second to take them back.
Richelle lets out a screech and leaps out of her chair to hug me. A satisfied smile crosses Amanda’s lips. She is already typing something into her phone.
“Wait, who are you texting?”
“Who do you think? Geoffrey.” Her thumbs are flying over the keyboard.
“Wow. You work fast,” Richelle says as she sits back down in her seat, taking a bite of her waffle.
“You’re already texting him? This is happening too fast.” Amanda has always been efficient. And yet again, it will be at the expense of my love life. She helped me end one relationship. It makes sense for her to start a new one for me, I guess.
“Full disclosure. I already told him about you yesterday, and he has agreed to meet you for dinner next Friday night. And don’t worry. I sent him that pic of you from your employee end-of-year party last December. You had on that one-shouldered pink dress and your hair was swept over to the side. You looked amazing that night.”
“Oh, my God.” I bury my face in my hands. Because I can’t believe she has done this. But also relieved she showed him that pic because I was feeling good that night. That dress made my legs look a mile long.
She sits her phone down on the table. “There, done. I just sent him your number and told him to text you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I say as I shake my head .
“You love me and how proficient I am.”
She’s right, I do. Amanda was my savior when I divorced Nate. I got everything I wanted and then some because of her and Elias.
Seconds later, my phone pings with an incoming text.
“Dang,” Richelle quips. “He is interested! I like a man who works fast.”
I give her a pointed look and lift my phone to read the incoming text.
It’s him.
Unknown Number: Hey Maria. This is Geoffrey. I work with Amanda. She gave me your number and insisted I text you right away or, and I quote, “Heads will roll.” Lol. She’s ruthless. Anyway, I would really like to take you to dinner this Friday if you’re free. No pressure. Or we can just text first to get to know one another. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Just let me know. Look forward to hearing from you. Soon, I hope.
My cheeks feel flushed from reading the text. I can picture him, sitting on his couch, casual, in a t-shirt and sweats, barefoot, looking Channing-esque, typing out this text to me.
It isn’t overly flirty. He said nothing inappropriate. He’s actually putting the ball in my court and being a gentleman, which is … considerate. And really sweet.
“You’re blushing!” Richelle exclaims. “Let me see.” I hand my phone to her, and she reads. “Ahhh … he seems genuine!” She hands me back my phone. “Say yes.”
Amanda doesn’t ask to read it. I look over at her, and she winks before taking a roll to butter it. She doesn’t need to read the text because she knows what a good guy he is. Like she said, she wouldn’t set me up with a tool.
I look between my two friends, and I know what I’m going to do. I type out my reply and hit send before I rethink this.
“Alright, Geoffrey with a G. Let’s see what you got.”