Chapter Fourteen
Quinn and I were living the dream, working late into Monday evening, mindlessly going through print material, photocopying competitor advertisements and converting them into PDFs to send to one of our clients.
“So, you can’t get the dress fixed?” Quinn gently lowered the printer lid over a splayed magazine.
I sighed dramatically. “I can get it fixed, yes, but it’s way harder to let a dress out after you’ve taken it in. The seamstress said she’d try, but she couldn’t promise anything.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Get it let out again, I guess. If I can’t have booze, I most certainly can’t take away food. What would I have left?”
“Me?” She looked at me and batted her eyelashes.
“No, I mean things I like,” I teased.
“Marty?” She smiled, knowing how much I had started to love the little guy.
“I wish Marc had stayed at work a little longer,” I sulked. “I miss him. Marty, I mean, not Marc.”
“Thanks for clarifying.” She laughed. “Speaking of things people like, I think Ethan has a thing for you,” she said as she flipped through a newspaper.
“Really?” I pretended I was surprised, but I’d had my suspicions. Ethan wasn’t exactly the subtlest person in the world. He was always hanging around my desk, usually for some dumb, made-up reason. The other day, he’d come over to ask me what time it was. He was eating with us at lunch more and more. He always seemed to find a way to sit near me when we went out for drinks. It was honestly pretty flattering to have someone so attractive (and young) pay attention to me, especially now that I was sober.
It’s funny how a drunk woman will attract the attention of way more guys—certain types of guys—than a sober one. Funny in a “not funny at all” kind of way. Ethan seemed to still like me even though I no longer presented as someone who would be easy to sleep with because the part of her brain that made good decisions was drowning in booze. I did wonder something though.
“Doesn’t he have a serious girlfriend?” I asked.
Quinn shrugged. “I’m not sure anymore. He hasn’t brought her up in a while. Not that he ever really talked about her that much. I’d been working here for two years before I knew her name.”
An unanticipated single butterfly fluttered in my stomach. I mean, hooking up with Ethan probably wouldn’t be the best idea, but if the rest of his body looked like his biceps, it might be worth the risk. A small shiver of excitement buzzed through me. I hadn’t run my hands over a good set of abs in so long I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
“Well,” I said, “I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”
“Who said anything about a relationship?” An adorably sly grin played upon her lips.
I laughed. “I still have seven months left until I’ve been sober for a year, which means no sex for seven months. Ugh, that sounds terrifying when I say it out loud.”
“You can still have fun without sex.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“I can’t.” I laughed. “I mean, I can, but I like the actual sex part. I’m not really a fan of the foreplay prelude and the cuddling interlude. I like to get right down to business and then go to sleep.” I lowered my eyes to the magazine I was holding. “I know that’s not a popular stance for a woman to take.” I looked up and put my shoulders back, newfound sober courage coursing through my veins. “But that’s how I am, and if people don’t like it, that’s their problem.”
“Heck, yes!” Quinn yelled, pumping her fist in the air. “I wish more women said that out loud or, more realistically, I wish more women could say that out loud without being labelled as heartless or cold or slutty. Men can have that attitude all over the place and it’s totally fine. The second a woman says she just wants sex and not a relationship, it’s like everyone’s minds go back to the 1950s. Like, how dare they get to make that decision?”
“I’ll admit,” I said, “I haven’t said it out loud to that many people.”
“Girl, you have to say it. And when people react negatively, and you know they will, turn around and walk away with your head held high, knowing that you’ve made a tiny hole in the reigning patriarchy!” she cheered, her face flushed. “Women just wanting to have sex.” She shook her head. “What will they think of next?”
Now that Ben and Kate were so busy, I could pretty much bank on one or both of them cancelling plans. I couldn’t get too angry about it though; I knew they didn’t mean it personally, but I did still like to throw myself a little pity party every once in a while. Another thing a lot of people don’t know about recovering alcoholics is that, for many of us, there is the additional bonus of dealing with surprise bouts of depression.
So, when Kate cancelled Friday night movies at my place because one of the clients she did PR for posted something “slightly misogynistic” on social media and she had to “clean up his fucking mess,” I decided to go all in and eat an entire pint of ice cream by myself.
Thank goodness Luke texted after I was about a quarter of the way through.
Hannah’s sleeping over at Grandma’s and I’m bored. What’re you up to?
Right now, I’m pretty busy eating my feelings.
Cool, do you want some company?
Do you like Bridesmaids?
The movie or the concept?
Both.
Yes?
Bring popcorn.
Luke arrived with both popcorn and chips, which made me like him even more, and we settled onto my well-worn couch to watch one of my favourite movies of all time: Bridesmaids.
“It’s basically like we’re working on the wedding,” I said. “We’re just in the research phase. Do you want a blanket?” I jumped up and grabbed a couple out of the hall closet. We’d had another good snow the night before and the temperature had dipped pretty significantly over the course of the day. And, seeing as I was just working a temp job, I couldn’t really afford to keep my thermostat very high.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Should I have ice crystals in my nose or no?”
I threw a blanket at him, narrowly missing his face. “It’s not that cold. Don’t be such a baby. Anyways, I thought you ran hot, Baloo.”
He laughed and wrapped himself in the blanket. “I’m pretty sure it’s warmer outside.”
“We’ll just have to sit close,” I said. “Body warmth. Just like the cavemen did.” I sat down and scooted closer, throwing my blanket on top of our laps. As our thighs touched, I felt his twitch.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You twitched.”
“Really?” He looked under the blanket. “Muscle cramp maybe.”
“A painless muscle cramp?”
“Or maybe my leg was reacting to the frozen block of ice that just touched it,” he said, purposefully shivering. “Were you rolling around in the snow before I got here?”
I nudged his calf with my toe. “I only feel cold because you’re so warm. You’re basically a furnace.”
He swallowed and laughed. “What every man dreams of hearing.”
“Okay, no more talking.” I held up the remote like a torch and then brought it slowly down towards the TV. “This is where the magic happens.”
“Can I ask you something?” Luke turned to me as the movie credits started rolling and set his bowl of popcorn down on the table.
“Wow, this must be serious,” I said. “Should I put my chips down too?”
He smiled. “No, feel free to keep eating your chips.”
“I was planning on it,” I said, my mouth half full of chips.
“Classy.” He brushed chip crumbs off the blanket.
“Why do you like this movie?” he asked.
“How can you not like this movie?” I gasped, prepared to fight to the death. “It’s so good! I mean, Wilson Phillips is in it!”
“Calm down.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not saying I don’t like the movie—I do like it—I’m just wondering why you do.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. It’s funny. It’s about strong women. It’s romantic. I like that she gets the guy at the end.”
He smiled and nodded like he’d just won Final Jeopardy. “I knew it.”
“You knew what?”
“I knew you were a romantic. You try hard to hide it, but I could tell. No matter what happened to you in the past, you still believe in happy endings.”
I crossed my arms and puffed out a small grunt of disgust. A romantic was not a noun I would ever use to describe myself. If anything, I was an anti-romantic. Romance was stupid. I knew more than anyone that happy endings didn’t exist, especially for people like me.
Except.
Except, I also knew that wasn’t entirely true. Despite all the crap I’d been through, and despite all the walls I’d put up because of it, there had always been a tiny, almost insignificant, part of me that had hoped my ending would eventually be happy. That one day I would meet someone who didn’t just want to sleep with me because I was drunk. One day I would find someone who I felt more than apathy towards. Someone who made me want more than sex. Someone who made me feel safe.
I had never admitted that to anyone though. Maybe it was time that I did. Luke was so easy to talk to. He didn’t judge. He just listened. I guess if we were going to hang out more often, I might as well get all of my baggage out of the way.
“I don’t deserve a happy ending,” I said as I set the chips aside.
“What?” The shocked look was back. “How can you say that? Everyone deserves a happy ending. How can you say that?” he said again.
“You don’t know the kinds of things I’ve done,” I said quietly.
“Tell me.”
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him about how much I used to drink. About the poor choices I’d made. About the one night I would never forget. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
So instead I said, “You know, the drinking and stuff. I used to drink a lot. And I made some bad decisions.” I shrugged. “I’ve learned that men don’t stick around to deal with the hangovers and regret. It’s just easier this way. If I don’t get my hopes up, I’m never disappointed.”
He nodded, his eyes locked on mine, laser focused but also searching.
“So, that’s me,” I said, throwing my arms up, trying to circumvent an uncomfortable silence.
“I feel like there’s more,” he said as he stroked his beard. “But that’s okay. I won’t force you to talk about something if you’re not ready. When you are, though, I’m a good listener.” He put his hand on the part of the blanket that was covering my knee.
“Thanks,” I said and meant it. “I feel like you would be a good listener. But I also feel like you won’t want to spend any more time with me if I reveal all of my past indiscretions.” I smiled like I was joking, but part of me was scared it would be true.
And then he surprised me. He looked at me with his kind green eyes, opened his arms, and gave me a hug. And, even more surprising, I let him. I let him hold me. This guy who I’d only known for a handful of months but, against all odds, was fast becoming a good friend. I breathed in the comforting smell of fabric softener from his hoodie, allowing myself to relax into his warmth. What would happen if I told him everything and he no longer wanted to be friends?
It was at that point that I felt it. A small shift inside me. Like a tiny fracture where a sliver of light shone through. Something that wasn’t anger or self-loathing or sadness or dread. Something real. Something good. Something bright.
Something vulnerable.
I pulled away. I couldn’t do it.
And everything closed back up.
“Thanks,” I said, smoothing the blanket over my lap and averting my gaze. “I appreciate the support.”
He tipped his head, confused.
“You know you have to forgive yourself eventually, right? You may have done some things in the past you’re not proud of, but the important thing is you acknowledged them, you stopped the pattern and you’re trying to get better. You’re trying to be better. Just because you’ve done some shitty things doesn’t mean you’re a shitty person. You’re a good person, Julie. If these last few months of getting to know you have taught me anything, they’ve taught me that.”
I smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“You’re doing your best,” he said. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m doing my best,” I repeated.
“I stand by my statement though.” He grinned. “I still think you’re a romantic. I think you believe in happy endings. I just think that belief is buried underneath your past. I have full confidence that one day it will push its way to the top. One day, the brightness will poke through.”
“Well, as I’ve said before, I’m not having sex until I’ve been sober for a year. So there won’t be any brightness poking through anything until June.”
He snorted. “I’ll make note of that in my calendar.” He paused thoughtfully. “Is that the only reason you’re not dating? Because of your sobriety commitment? Or is dating not really your thing?”
My stomach sank. I brushed my hair back over my shoulder as I thought of what to say. “These are the kinds of conversations I find easier to have after a couple of drinks.” I looked at him slyly.
Not even a tiny spark of humour flashed across his face.
I sighed. “Fine. I have dated, I used to date; I just don’t date anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” I did know. “It’s just not worth it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how people say that you need to take risks because even if you have to go through pain, it’s totally worth it once you fall in love? And even if that love falls apart, it was still worth it just to have had that feeling? That one great love is worth all the heartache?”
“I have heard that, yes.”
“I don’t subscribe to that way of thinking.”
He leaned in, the groove just above his nose furrowed. “I’m not following.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the image of the man I always thought of in relation to the notion of love.
“His name was Todd,” I said, all emotion draining from my face. “We met when I was in my late twenties.”
I had been working as an HR assistant at a shipping company, back when I’d thought I would actually have a career. I’d been young and eager, ready to explode into my thirties with purpose. I had already started drinking a lot by then, but it had not yet overtaken my life.
“He was a contractor at a company I worked at and we started hanging out on Fridays when everyone went out for drinks,” I said, eyes down, feeling Luke’s steady gaze as he gave me his full attention. I wondered if he could tell that what I’d just told him was only half true.
The true part was that we did eventually start hanging out on Fridays, but I left out the part where Todd had figured out what was, back then, my greatest weakness. When someone was accustomed to being pursued, the best way to get their attention? Ignore them. Todd understood that about me pretty fast. He could almost sense my need to be wanted. And he used that knowledge to always have the upper hand. Even at the beginning.
Every Friday was the same. Todd would be there and I would try to pretend I didn’t care. But I would try even harder to entice him to initiate a conversation: laughing at everyone’s jokes, wearing my shortest, yet still work-appropriate skirts, flirting with anyone who would look my way, getting progressively more frustrated.
After two more weeks of pub performances, I exhaustedly admitted defeat. He was hot and I was determined. I finally went over to officially introduce myself and he grinned like a Cheshire cat as he offered me one of his newly purchased beers. Despite the fact that I hated beer, I accepted. And when I did, I noticed a twinkle in his eyes. He’d won and he knew it. But I didn’t care. I had already fallen. Hard. And back then, I didn’t know how to stop it.
“Once we started hanging out, we moved pretty fast,” I said to Luke. “I’d gone through some stuff in my early twenties and, honestly, I was pretty desperate to find someone I could trust. Someone who would take care of me.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” he said. “You seem very much able to take care of yourself.”
I smiled. “Well, I was much younger then.” He was right though. It wasn’t like me. I just hadn’t known how much I’d wanted the safety until it had become a possibility.
“We always had so much fun when we went out,” I continued. “He was hilarious and charming. Even Ben liked him. Ben, who, as you know, had a hard time talking to anyone back then, was grateful that one of the guys I was dating took the time to find out about his interests. Most of the men before Todd had just wanted to get into my pants.”
Luke shook his head as if apologizing for all of mankind.
“We were a couple before I even registered it was happening,” I said. “He’d moved his stuff into my apartment bit by bit and suddenly we were living together. Living the dream. Living for love.” I clasped my hands together and held them at my heart, mocking the very idea.
“We fought, of course. Like all couples. But our fights seemed different, often intense. And sometimes they came out of nowhere. One minute Todd was laughing at a funny story I was telling and the next he was screaming at me, calling me stupid and selfish, throwing a can of green beans at the cupboard door.”
“Jesus,” Luke breathed. “Did he hurt you? Please tell me you left him after that.”
“No, he didn’t hurt me,” I said, my face expressionless, my voice flat. “And no, I didn’t leave him after that. The first time I thought about leaving him was after he punched a hole in the wall. I wish I could say it was the first time he’d punched a hole in the wall, but it wasn’t. It was just the first time it had happened inches from my head.”
Luke leaned forward reflexively as if in retroactive protection. His hand rose in the direction of my face but then slowly lowered back to his lap.
“After that, every time he had one of his ‘fits,’ as I began to call them, I’d think, This is it. This is the last time. I’m leaving.” I lightly punched my fist into my thigh for emphasis. “But every time he would just as quickly turn back into normal Todd. Normal, fun-loving, charming Todd. He would apologize and beg me to forgive him. And I did. He loved me after all.” I shrugged as if to explain away my own naivety.
“So I stayed. And I convinced myself his behaviour was acceptable. And, most importantly, I didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t like he hit me or anything; he never laid a hand on me. I’d just thought I had to work harder at not making him angry.”
Luke tipped his head and I nodded. I knew now how foolish I sounded.
“It got to the point where I was always walking on eggshells, trying to be quiet, agreeing to whatever he said, never wanting to set him off. His good moods became few and far between. His anger would often settle into the deepest of depressions.
“Then, one day, I woke up to find him in our sparsely decorated living room with his bags packed. He was leaving. It wasn’t me; it was him. He’d met someone else. Someone younger.”
“He said that?” Luke’s face was a contorted mixture of protective anger and disbelief.
“No.” I shook my head. “But I knew. I’d seen pictures of them on Facebook. When I’d asked about her, he’d snapped and said they were just friends so I’d left it alone. And yet, somehow, I was still surprised to find out they really weren’t. I was devastated after he left. I felt like such a failure.”
“You were not a failure,” Luke said, the anger in his expression triumphing, his fists clenched at his sides. “He sounds like a terrible human and you were lucky to get out of that relationship before you got hurt. Physically, I mean. I imagine he did quite the number on you emotionally.”
He was right. No matter how long ago it had happened, when I thought of love, Todd would always be in the way.
“So that’s why I don’t believe love conquers all,” I said. “Because I have felt love and I have felt pain. And the love was not worth it. I would rather not take a risk and feel nothing than feel shitty like that again.”
Luke’s face softened, the anger drained from his features. “Maybe you just—”
“I swear to God if you finish that sentence with ‘need to meet the right person,’ I will cut you.” I held up a jagged potato chip.
He clamped his mouth shut.
“What about you?” I asked, ready to change the subject. “Why aren’t you dating anyone?”
“I just need to meet the right person?” He grinned tentatively, relaxing when I returned it.
“Seriously though.” He sat back. “I have to be careful. It’s not just me who would be dating this fictional woman; I also have to think about Hannah. Because of her, I can’t go around poking just anyone with my brightness.” He burst out laughing. “Oh, man I’m funny.”
“Hilarious,” I deadpanned. “But good point. You’re a good dad.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I try my best. Speaking of which”—he looked at his watch—“I should probably go. Like I said, Hannah’s at a sleepover tonight and I want to be there in case she wants to come home. She sometimes gets homesick.”
I don’t blame her,I thought. If I had a cozy place like that to come home to, I’d never leave.
Luke slipped on his boots and I watched as he walked down the hall, waving goodbye when he turned around. I closed my apartment door and surveyed the empty space, sparingly furnished with crappy odds and ends I had purchased for the sole reason that they were on sale.
I pulled my cardigan tighter around my shoulders and breathed in the stale, old apartment smell that had suddenly become more noticeable. How was it possible that I now felt lonelier than I had before he came over? And why did my apartment suddenly feel so empty?