Chapter Two
Two
Her response came in fast, and immediately put a smile on my face. Ha! she said. Wish I’d known about that deal before I blew all my money on the place down the block.
THANK YOU I typed back, even though she’d have no clue what I was thanking her for, or why the all caps.
Mari and I had met a decade earlier, when our now-exes had introduced us at a mutual friend’s housewarming party.
I’d been with that ex for six years, and Mari still liked to say that connecting us was the only useful thing he’d ever bothered to do.
The three dots that showed Mari was typing bounced in the message box, disappearing briefly before her next text came in. Didn’t you have a date tonight?
When I called her, she picked up right away, even though I could tell from her voice that she must still be at work.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Her nursing shifts were extremely regular and consistent, and yet because they were at such different hours from my own nine-to-five I had a hard time remembering exactly when they were. “I can tell you tomorrow.”
“No, no, I’m on break,” she said. “Was it good? If you’re calling me now it must not have been good.”
Niall and I had managed to get through the rest of the meal only by focusing on our food and otherwise ignoring each other.
But then after we’d paid—separate checks, of course, not that he’d offered anything else but I was not about to risk him thinking I owed him in any way—he’d leaned over, giving me the first smile I’d seen out of him all night.
You know, he’d said. I live just around the corner from here.
I couldn’t help but think again of the forty-five minutes I’d spent in traffic, the fact that I’d had to park all the way at the other end of the complex, next to a dumpster behind one of those we’ll-fix-your-phone stores, because it was the only open space I could find on a Friday night.
When Niall had gone in for a kiss, I’d stepped off the curb to make it look like I was already heading to my car.
He must’ve read the vibe enough, because he hadn’t offered to walk me to it.
“Are my standards too high?” I said to Mari now. “Like, am I living in a dream world?”
“I doubt it,” she said wryly. “What are your standards?”
I flashed back through the worst moments of this night, but they were almost too depressing to say out loud. That my date doesn’t compare my dress to a bag was just too bleak, not on my birthday.
“You know,” I said. “The usual. He’s kind, supportive, good to talk to. It doesn’t even matter what we do together, we just enjoy each other’s company.”
There was a florist in the strip of shops I had to pass to get to my car, and I slowed in front of the window.
The shop had been closed for hours and was completely dark inside, only the outline of plants visible through the glass that reflected more of myself back to me than anything else.
The shadows muted the color of my dress, highlighted the silhouette of it instead, and suddenly it felt like an old closet standby instead of an effortlessly sexy choice.
It only now occurred to me that any dress you took from work to date night without even performing some fashion sleight of hand—pair it with a blazer!
Take the blazer off! Trade flats for heels!
Add statement earrings!—had to be a bad sign.
I’d left my cardigan from work in the car only because it was already warm, even for mid-March, and my plain black flats were the same ones I wore every single day because they went with everything.
“Enjoy each other’s company?” Mari repeated. “You don’t have to get euphemistic with me, girl, just admit you want great sex.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure. That, too. He should be good in bed and also make me feel like I’m amazing in bed.”
“It doesn’t have to be a bed,” Mari pointed out. “But you act like those are two separate things and I don’t think they are.”
As the last bit of laughter faded from my face, I thought back to what Niall had said about my profile picture, how I’d looked happier in it.
I tried to smile at my reflection, but all I could notice were those faint lines around my mouth.
My eyes were an ordinary shade of brown, as was my hair, which had a slight wave to it and hung halfway down my back.
After years of getting the exact same trim, I’d had to badger my hairstylist into giving me curtain bangs, and he’d said, Oooh, if we’re making changes, maybe a bob?
Right now it’s kind of…The limp, defeated hand gesture he’d made had been ten times more expressive than any other way he could’ve ended that sentence. Just the bangs, thanks, I’d said.
If the flower shop had been open, I would’ve gone in just to look at some flowers, as a kind of palate cleanser for the day. But since it was already closed, I kept walking.
“So those are my standards. He’s kind, makes me feel like a sex goddess, and loves me so fiercely he’d go to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took.”
That list had started sincere and then I’d gotten a little silly with it, but whatever. While we were dreaming!
“In that case,” Mari laughed. “Then yeah, for all three of those you’d need to go to an alternate fucking dimension. That’s why I’ve given up on dating apps and spend more time with my vibrator and the bi panic that is the Lord of the Rings franchise.”
“I applaud your commitment,” I said. “That’s a lot of movie to get through for ten minutes of Liv Tyler.”
“Worth it.”
I’d reached my car, leaning against the trunk as I sighed into the phone. “I think I also need to delete the apps for a bit. My life is fine, you know? I have an apartment. I have a car that mostly works. My job is stable. In July I’ll be fully vested and I get an extra week of vacation time.”
“So that’ll make it what, a whopping two weeks?
” Mari had never been particularly impressed with the law firm where I worked as a receptionist. To be fair, I didn’t exactly sell her on my job satisfaction.
It wasn’t the job itself, which I didn’t mind—I liked feeling integral to keeping the place running, organizing files and routing phone calls and making sure people had what they needed when they needed it.
It wasn’t even the pay or the benefits, which weren’t great but which could be worse.
It was the fact that no one ever seemed to see me. Part of my job was to disappear, and maybe I was just too good at it.
At the same time, if I ever wanted to actually disappear—even take an afternoon off for an appointment, or god forbid have a long weekend—it always became such a big deal.
I’d had to stop complaining about it to Mari only because I knew what she’d say.
She’d tell me to quit my job, and I wasn’t ready to hear that yet.
It was too big a risk, and I was not a risk-taker.
“The point is, I have work. I have you. This morning I had a bunch of holds come in at the library. I have a full life without adding any potential romance into it, especially since it never goes anywhere. I just…”
A breeze blew strands of my hair across my face, and when I reached up to brush it back, my fingers came away with crushed flower petals between them.
I looked up and saw a cyclone of more petals swirl and land on the asphalt by my feet.
For a second, it seemed so strange and beautiful that it was almost like a sign.
But then I remembered I was standing next to a dumpster shared by businesses on that end of the complex, including the florist, and realized there was no sign. They were just trash flowers.
“I can’t keep wanting things,” I said, pressing the toe of my shoe over one of the wilted petals on the asphalt, holding it there so the wind wouldn’t blow it away.
“It makes it worse. Getting your hopes up and then having them crushed, over and over. It’s pathological when you think about it.
It can’t be good for the nervous system. ”
“So you’re going to stop wanting things,” Mari said, her voice disbelieving. “Cold turkey.”
“Things outside my control, yeah,” I said. “Things I have no way of knowing that I’ll ever have. I’m still allowed to want like, cake. I can run to the store and get that tonight.”
In the background, I could hear voices on Mari’s end, where she must have been holding the phone away to laugh and say something in Spanish before coming back. I felt bad that I’d wasted her break like this.
“Tell you what,” Mari said. “Go get that cake. While you’re at it, buy yourself a candle to put in it, and make a wish.
You’re allowed to want something on your birthday, for god’s sake, and don’t let one terrible date convince you otherwise.
I’ll text you later and we can figure out something to do this weekend to celebrate, how does that sound? ”
With our opposing schedules, it had been too long since I’d last hung out with Marisol in person, and I realized I needed it like a plant needs water. “That sounds perfect,” I said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “Now go, and don’t just buy yourself a slice. Buy yourself the whole motherfucking cake and leave some for me. And try to listen to something other than that sad-girl music you like on the drive because I swear that’s half the problem.”
After we’d hung up, I lingered for a minute next to my car, looking down at my phone.
Chatting with Mari had cheered me up, like I knew it would, but I still found myself compulsively opening the dating app and checking my messages.
Of course there was nothing new. And what had I expected?
That Niall would’ve reached out right after the date, with some sort of apology or explanation?
Some reveal that he’d had a really bad day and that was the only reason he’d been such a dick, and would I want to try again?
And of course I’d say no to that, right, no matter how charming and convincing his argument, because really he’d been such a dick?
I clicked over to my profile, to the red text that said Deactivate My Account.
I didn’t want to hear from that guy ever again.
And even if Mari was right that I just needed to eat some cake and listen to some happier music and things would look better in the morning, I was tired of this endless cycle.
I clicked to deactivate, pressed yes when they asked if I was sure, clicked again to confirm I understood all my data would be erased, and then deleted the app from my phone.
I already felt better. Lighter. There were still some flowers floating around, and I held out my hand to catch a few petals in my palm.
I probably wouldn’t bother to buy myself cake—either a whole one or a slice, it just felt silly—but I guessed one last birthday wish couldn’t hurt.
I closed my eyes, trying to think of what it should even be.
I wish dreams could come true. It was the first thing that popped into my head, even though I cringed at how cheesy I sounded even to myself.
I didn’t know what I even meant by it. Was I thinking of my dream career?
For that, I’d have to go back, way back—before I was laboriously applying labels to binders of documents and to when I thought I could build a life around art, whether other people’s or my own.
Or was I thinking of my description of my dream man, more a feeling than a face?
Either way, I’d be better served imagining something clear-cut and actionable, rather than wasting my time with what sounded like a vague refrain from a fairy tale.
But who was I to workshop my own birthday wish. I opened my eyes and blew the flower petals off my hand. One of them continued to slowly fall as I felt my phone buzz in my other hand, a reminder that I was still holding it.
A notification came through that Mari had sent me thirty dollars.
The whole motherfucking cake!!! the accompanying message said, and I had to smile.
I guessed I’d have to stop by the store on the way home and get one now; it would be rude not to.
I dropped my phone into my purse, digging toward the bottom to retrieve my keys.
Suddenly, there was a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye.
There was no time to process what was happening—a guttural sound, like someone grunting, then a solid mass barreled into me, ripping the purse from my shoulder and sending me flying before running away.
The only thing I noticed about the person who did it was that the bottoms of their jeans were all frayed and stepped-on like mine had always been in high school.
That was the last thing I remember thinking about as I was falling, a kind of slow-motion I used to have jeans like that, apparently the single most salient detail of my life.
And then the whole world went dark.