8. Vivian #3
“Listen, chica, you set that rule in place to give yourself some breathing room. From Trent and his bull- loney ,” she glances quickly at Raelynn who is thankfully entranced with Mr. Rogers now, “and all those dudes in between.” She rolls her eyes at me.
She’s not wrong. “It’s okay to give yourself some space and distance to figure out what you want.
You did that. But it doesn’t mean it has to be a one-way ticket to a celibate life, either.
” This time it’s me raising my eyebrows at her.
“I know, I know,” she admits. “I can dish it out but can’t take it.
But having Raelynn makes things like that impossible—"
"Complicated, not impossible.”
“Whatever,” she shushes me. “It’s not the same thing and you know it. What I’m saying is that you may have put this rule in place to give you some structure, but don’t let that cut you off from opportunity.”
I sit back in my chair as I contemplate her words. “You know, I really expected you to give me a hard time about all this.”
“Um, exactly where were you last night when I was encouraging you to go out and actually talk to a member of the opposite sex?” I laugh because she’s right.
She was playing wing woman before I even stepped out the door.
“And what exactly is all this , then?” she asks, waving her hand between us. “Did you get his number?”
“Nope.” Her face falls when I say that. This is too fun.
“How the heck are you supposed to see him again?” she demands.
“I gave him mine.” I smirk at her. “Two guesses where I put it?”
Her brows wrinkle. “Um, were there no napkins at the bar or something?”
“He had me Sharpie it on his arm,” I say smugly, knowing she’ll get a kick out of it. That’s just the type of romantic gesture she lives for.
“What?” She fans herself dramatically and now I laugh outright. “That guy is totally calling you, and you better pick up when he does,” she whisper-yells at me so that Raelynn won’t run in to hear what the ruckus is about.
“I don’t know if I should,” I start and she shakes her head at me.
“If he let you put Sharpie on him—”
“He didn’t let me , he insisted.”
“Even more reason,” she continues. “That stuff does not come off for a while no matter what you do.”
I know she’s right. Raelynn’s misadventures with Sharpies led them to being banned from the house after one particularly bad morning when we both woke up after a long night at the restaurant to find that Raelynn had decorated her entire face with one.
Claire kept her out of preschool for a week until the ink wore off.
“Like I was saying, he clearly doesn’t care if someone sees your number on his arm. And that, my friend, is a good sign that he’s whipped.”
I shiver as I think about how Michael pressed my hand to his arm, like I’d branded him.
I can still feel the heat of his kisses on my wrists.
Such a sweet, gentlemanly move from someone who had just been grinding me against his thigh earlier.
Can such a mix exist? He strikes me as someone honorable but who also wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch.
I still don’t know what that look on his face was about while I was dancing with Matt.
He made it crystal clear how much he wanted me but also respected when I pulled away from that intoxicating kiss.
I can almost feel the taste of his lips on mine still.
“Wow, girl.” Claire shakes her head while smiling. “I think you've got it bad too.”
“Nooo,” I groan. “This can’t be happening.”
“But why, really? Why can’t you get infatuated with a hot guy?”
“It’s too soon!” I protest. “And besides, remember what happened with that one dude?” The guy had potential, or so I thought.
He was a customer at the restaurant, and we went out a few times.
He seemed stable, like someone I could get close to for real instead of maintaining my fun-time facade.
“The one time I tried to open up to someone, and he dropped me like a hot potato.” I hadn’t heard from him again and figured I’d scared him off.
Given that I couldn’t remember his name, it couldn’t have been all that devastating, but the rejection still stung.
“It just means he wasn’t the right one. Because someone worth having isn’t going to be put off by a little drama. Viv.” Claire touches my arm gently. “I say this with all the love in my heart. All of it. But don’t lose sight of the forest for the trees.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I mumble, covering my face with my hands.
“It means, yeah, it was a good idea to get some space from dudes and dating—“
“And stupid d–i-c-k-s,” I say under my breath.
She laughs. “Yes, and those too. But it also doesn’t mean you need to pull a Maria and go into a Sound of Music convent.”
“Isn’t that what she was getting liberated from?” I ask, peeking through the fingers of one hand.
“You know what I mean.” She sighs. “Look, what does your gut tell you? Your real gut, I mean, not the one that’s hankering for some smothered and covered hash browns.”
“That’s the thing,” I say softly, looking down at my hands.
“I don’t know. My gut tells me I’m safe with him.
Like he won’t hurt me. I don’t know how to describe it.
I feel good around him, like I never want to leave.
It’s not like that huge burst of fireworks, I mean, it is…
but more like, coming home, I guess? I’ve never felt like this before.
” I sigh, turning my coffee cup side to side.
“But that can’t be healthy, right? Like, how can I feel both things at once?
Safety and excitement just don’t go together. ”
“Why not? Why can’t it be both?” This time she reaches over and grabs both my hands in hers so I no longer have the option to hide.
“You know that I love you like absolutely nothing else, and I'm going to tell it to you straight. Sometimes you have a problem with getting in your own way. You’ve listened to the wrong voices and let it impact your self worth to the point that you don’t give yourself a chance.
You are worthy of being loved . I know you’re still a little messed up in the head, hell, we both are, but that doesn’t mean you have to wait until everything in your life is ‘perfect’ to allow yourself a chance at love. ”
“So what are you telling me? An amazing man just walks into my life and I'm supposed to, what? Just go for it?”
“That's exactly what you should do. Listen, I haven't even gotten to meet this guy yet, but I can already tell you're feeling things for him that I’ve never seen you feel or say before; no matter who you’ve been with.”
She raises one eyebrow. Ouch. Point taken.
“Just because you think everything has to fall on some well-ordered timeline that’s been drilled into you does not make it true. You did take a break. You took time for mourning or self-discovery or whatever you want to call it, but do you really want it to last forever?”
I shake my head as her words begin to sink in.
“Sometimes things happen even when you aren’t ready for them, and you are allowed to experience something new.
And you are allowed to go have fun, dammit.
” She squeezes my fingers as she continues, “I think you know what your gut is telling you and you’re fighting it.
And I think you need to give yourself permission to see where this takes you.
I’ve got a good feeling about this one, chica. ” She taps her forehead.
And this is why I love Claire so much. No one else has ever shown me such care while also making me face the hard truths.
She never batted an eye at the guys I went out with, only checking in to make sure I was okay afterward.
She gave me an opportunity with her restaurant to pick up the pieces and figure myself out when I didn't even know what I was doing. She’s even brushed my hair for me when it hurts too much to lift my arms, telling me jokes to help distract from the pain.
I know she wouldn’t tell me anything unless she had my best interests at heart.
And she doesn’t sugarcoat anything; when I've needed a kick in the ass, she’s been the one to give it to me.
So I do trust her when she continues. “Viv, beating yourself up has never helped you, and you owe it to yourself to allow the idea of happiness. I think you had let go of Trent long before he cheated on you. And that’s okay because he was a dipwad anyway,” she says with a grin.
“But just because you feel not enough time has passed for you to get into the dating scene again doesn’t mean you close your eyes to what’s out there.
If you like this guy and you have a good feeling about him, then just go for it.
Worst case scenario is that you get a bad dinner out of it. ”
She smirks and so do I, recalling some of the disastrous dates I’ve been on, where I came home and told her about the boring guys rambling on and on before making a play to get in my pants. But at least I got a free meal out of it. “Good conversation or good sex, never both, remember?”
“Seriously,” she says. “I think you should give this a chance. You can always lose his number later.”
“Dang, girl, you’re worse than I am!” I reach for a dish towel to throw at Claire but she ducks just in time.
And then my phone rings. We both freeze.
It keeps ringing, and I look at my Nokia display. I don’t recognize the number.
“Answer it!” Claire whispers as if the caller can hear us.
“No!” I whisper back.
It’s Saturday morning, and it’s not Trent’s number or my mom’s. I delete guys after I’m done with them, so it’s not like I’ve got a long roster. No way can it be Michael.
Isn’t there some sort of code not to call for three days?
The phone trills two more times. Claire and I keep staring at it like it’s a bomb about to go off. Thirty seconds pass and we both jump when the chime sounds indicating there’s a new voicemail.
I drag my eyes from the phone to Claire’s face.
“Are you checking that or am I?” she asks me. I know she’ll do it if I ask her to.
“I–I’ll get it. Later .” I hold up a hand at her protestations. Raelynn chooses that moment to holler “Mommm-eee!” and Claire stands up to tend to her daughter.
“Don’t forget.” She wags a finger at me.
“I won’t.”
“I mean about all of it. About what I said, missy,” she admonishes.
I don’t listen to the message until much later, when I’m on my way home from my shift.
I avoided even looking at my phone while I got ready, instead choosing to let the anticipation consume me, going back and forth about whether or not I should stick to my guns.
Once I got to work, we were slammed the minute I arrived until we closed, so I couldn’t have checked my messages even if I’d wanted to.
Sitting in my locked car in The Pork Belly parking lot, I look at the phone in my hand, holding it gingerly like it might shatter if I squeeze too hard.
Breathing deep to still the jitters and anxiety swirling in my gut, I enter my voicemail passcode.
“Vivian, hey there, hermosa…”
The butterflies in my chest go into full migration mode at the timbre of his voice, my pulse racing.
“I wanted to check in with you and see how you’re doing this morning.
” He pauses, and I don’t think he rehearsed what he was going to say.
Like he didn’t think he’d be leaving a message.
I’m torn between regretting not picking up and also the comfort of having his recorded voice to listen to whenever I want.
After what sounds like a blown out breath, he continues, his voice husky.
“Listen, mi amor, I’d really like to see you again. Soon. Real soon , I mean. Last night was…” He trails off for a moment as though gathering his thoughts. “Everything.” It’s a whisper.
It’s a promise.
My heart stills as a warm wave of contentment washes over me. Tingles run from my head to my toes, and I feel like I’ve just been given the best hug.
“Call me, mi amor. Please.” He rattles off his number. “I can’t wait to see you again.” The phone beeps, asking if I want to save, delete, or listen to the message again. As I sit there stunned, the commands repeat a second time, startling me, my fingers hitting buttons randomly.
“Your message has been deleted.”
Shit!
How the hell did I do that? What did he say his number was again?
I begin to panic, trying to recall the digits, before remembering the caller ID feature. Grabbing a pen and QuikTrip napkin, I quickly jot the numbers down.
Then I sit back, napkin still clutched in my hand, looking at it and questioning everything.
Is this a sign? If I didn’t have caller ID, this would be the perfect out. I wouldn’t have a way to contact him again, unless he called. We never got around to discussing jobs, so it’s not like he knows where I work.
Should I just let this go? I don’t know if I’ve been single “long enough” or whatever that means.
As long as I’m single, there’s no risk to my heart.
It’s safe. If lonely.
And then a Voice pops into my head. In full stereo surround sound.
“If you miss out on this, you’re going to miss out on something big.”
I’m plastered to my seat, lungs frozen. Where the hell did that come from?
Seconds pass, minutes maybe, as I stay absolutely still, trying to comprehend what just happened.
And just as quickly, my muscles unclench, and I take slow breaths. I feel like I’m wrapped up in that warm cloud again. My mind clears, and a small thrill of excitement runs through me.
Peace. This is what peace feels like. Along with a smidge of anticipation.
I don’t know where that Voice came from, but I’m open and willing to listen.
I clutch the napkin to my heart. I’ll call Michael back.
Tomorrow. It’s late, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but I want to wait till we have more time to talk.
He’ll be waiting for me. I just know it.