CONSCIOUSNESS #2
I laughed. "Dad, you don't know who he cheated on me with."
“Yes, I do. I was behind them in line at Costco a couple weeks ago.
I recognized his voice before I realized it was him.
He didn't know I was there. He and his girlfriend were talking, and I gradually realized from the contextual clues that the girl he was with was the girl he fucked around on you with. They talked about you."
"Whoa, hold the fuck up, Dad. WHAT ?" I paused in silence. "He was with her… TWO WEEKS ago?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure she was his girlfriend?" I asked.
"He had his hand on her ass, so yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"And they were talking about me?"
"I mean, indirectly. He referenced his ex, and she said something along the lines of 'that girl with the weird name who threw trophies at you.'"
"'The girl with the weird name who threw trophies at you,'" I echoed. "Wow. And why didn't he bring her to the wedding, I wonder?"
"Oh, she had a work trip."
I laughed. "Dad, how long were you eavesdropping on them? Jesus."
"It was a long-ass line and they weren't being discreet."
I groaned. "He was still acting like a sad sack of shit at the wedding. He was all jealous and angry, like I was the crazy one for being mad at him for cheating on me. But he's still with her? What the fuck?" I shook my head, sighing. "I don't understand him, Dad. At all."
"Don't even waste your brain power trying, Sweet-Pea. He's not worth it. He never was. Now you focus on you. Your future. Your career. In time, you'll find the right guy."
"How will I know if he's the right one, Dad?"
He laughed, a sighing chuckle. "Oh, honey. That's the oldest question in the world, and one fathers dread getting. Because the real answer is I don't fuckin' know, baby-girl."
"How'd you know Mom was it for you?"
He cackled. "I didn't, at first."
I pulled the phone away and stared at it in stunned silence.
"Rune?" His voice came from the speaker, tinny and distant and small. "I lose you?"
I put it back to my ear. "No, I'm here. I just…what? You love Mom. You would never, ever cheat on her."
"I'd cut my dick off first."
"No, I'd cut your dick off, first," I heard Mom say in the background.
"Am I on speaker?" I asked.
"No, she just knows what we're talking about.
" He sighed. “Listen, Sweet-Pea. You don't know.
Not for a hundred percent sure. Not about anything, ever.
The only absolute in this life is that there are no absolutes.
I knew I was in love with your mom. But did I know for sure she was the only woman I'd ever love, that we were meant to be together until we're old and gray?
No! I was twenty-two, she was gorgeous, smart, and seemed to like me.
I know how this is gonna sound, but when we first got together, I felt like she was out of my league and the whole thing was a big mistake she'd figure out at some point and dump me when she came to her senses.
So I tried as hard as I could to convince her I was this great guy and she should stick with me.
But really, I just knew I'd never, ever find anyone better than her. "
I heard a rustle, and then Mom's voice came across the line.
"Rune, honey. I don't know what happened in Alaska, but it's obvious it's got you thinking hard.
Maybe it was seeing Hayes, maybe there was another guy.
You don't have to tell me. What your dad means is that love is always a risk.
You won't know, not for sure, if you're making the right choice.
Even after your dad and I got married, I wasn't sure we'd make it.
We had some really ugly fights early on.
Marriage is hard, honey. But I love him, and I'm committed to him.
I made that choice and I keep making it every day.
That's all love is—choosing someone every day, even when it doesn't always make sense and even when you sometimes want to strangle him in his sleep. "
"Mom!"
"That will make sense someday, honey. Trust me."
"So you guys' big advice is…there's no way to know, and I might want to strangle the man I love in his sleep, but that's normal?"
Dad cackled. "You're oversimplifying what we're saying, Rune."
"What's his name?" Mom asked.
"Nice try," I mumbled. "There isn't anyone. I was just asking because I can't figure out how I could have been so wrong about Hayes."
"Can't help you with that one, honey," Mom said. "Hayes was a gumpy twat."
"Mom!"
"I never saw it either, is all I'm saying."
"You never said anything!"
"To what end?" she said. "Like you would have listened?
I never got the sense that Hayes was bad , just not worth your time or attention.
But I knew you had to see it yourself. Nothing we said would make a difference.
I don't mean this as a dig at you, honey, but it's just a fact of life that you can't tell a twenty-something kid anything, especially not about the person they're dating. "
I had to literally bite down on my tongue to keep myself from saying "I'm not a kid," because nothing says that you are in fact a kid like insisting you're not.
"Got it," I said, eventually, because I had to say something .
Mom just sighed. "Honey, when you're ready to talk about it, let me know.
I'll do my best to listen, not judge, and give the best advice I have, even if it's not what you want to hear.
But I know you have to come to these things on your own—it took you almost a month before you called us and told us what happened with Hayes and why you left town so abruptly with no immediate plans to return. "
"I had to process it on my own," I said. "Plus, I had to stop being so mad. If I'd have told you guys about it right away, I wouldn't have had the self-control to not let Dad wring his neck."
I heard Dad laugh in the background. "Smart girl. Took a hell of a lot of self-control to not wring his neck at Costco as it was.”
Mom sighed. "Sweetie, we get it. Just know that we're here for you, always. We love you, and we support you. And I know we're your parents, but we're also humans who have been through a lot of stuff."
"I know. I love you guys, too. I think I just need time to sort through things before I can really talk about it."
"And you don’t have to talk about it with us, honey, just know that you can ,” Mom said. "Okay, we've kept you on the phone long enough. I’m sure you’re tired. Just come see us soon, okay?"
“This week, I promise," I said.
I hung up, plugged my phone in, ran a bath, and spent the next two hours soaking, watching mindless reality TV, and definitely not thinking about Duncan.
Lies. I totally spent the whole time thinking about Duncan.
Unfortunately, the only conclusion I came to by the time I was pruny and ready to get out was that feelings were stupid, I should never have let Lindsey talk me into the whole stupid ‘fake date to the wedding’ plan, and I was terribly, terribly confused about pretty much everything.
Also, I think I missed Duncan. Which was stupid.
I desperately wanted another round…or two or three or ten…in bed with him, which was not stupid. Just problematic. Impossible. Not happening. Never, never, never.
I'm not going back to Alaska. He's not coming here. It's over. Permanently, period, full stop.
I just have to get over him.
I slept.
I deep-cleaned my condo.
Fine-tuned and polished my resume.
Spent the next several days posting my resume on headhunter websites, sending it to various businesses, first and foremost the advertising firm I interned with last summer.
I was conflicted about that one—I didn't like the office culture there, and the boss I had directly reported to was blatantly chauvinistic and addressed at least eighty percent of his words to my boobs.
But on the other hand, I knew they paid well, I knew they liked my work while I was interning, and I knew they needed someone, so I stood a good chance of getting the job.
A few days turned into a week; I got some hits on my resume and went to a few interviews, but none of the places I interviewed felt like a good fit for one reason or another.
I was probably being too picky for someone looking for her first real adult job, but I'd like to at least like the company and people I work for and with.
A week became two, and Duncan was still constantly on my mind, especially alone at night.
I took an interview at the ad agency where I interned and accepted a position in their administrative department—an entry-level job, making copies, answering phones, filing, and things like that.
It's not glamorous, but it's a job, it pays pretty well, and my boss is a woman who doesn't stare at my boobs. Win-win.
Two weeks became three—the longest I've gone without talking to or seeing Lindsey since we met our freshman year at USC.
She was the one to break the silence, showing up at my condo a little over a month after the wedding, buzzing insistently at the crack of dawn with coffee and bagels from our favorite place.
I let her in without a word, still in my towel after a shower. She took the lid off of one of the coffees and fixed it the way I like it, and then set out the bagels and cream cheese.
"Thanks," I mumbled, freeing my hair from the towel-turban to air dry.
"Rune, about the last time we talked," Lindsey started
"Let me get some coffee in me first," I said.
"Fair enough."
I sipped the coffee, which I'd watched her fix with one cream, one sugar, the way I've taken my coffee since I started drinking it. Only this time, it just tasted…funny. It made my stomach turn.
I sniffed it, stared into the dark khaki liquid, sipped again, wincing at the off-ness of it. "This tastes weird."
Lindsey frowned, reached for my cup, sipped, shrugged. “Tastes fine to me." She tried hers, next. "Same. Normal coffee. You sick or something?"