10. Totally fine. I’m totally fine.
10 /
totally fine. i’m totally fine.
charlie
Two weeks go by, and I don’t hear a word from Rafael. We haven’t seen one another because I have intentionally avoided going for walks in the direction of his house. Not that I’ve gone out much. I’ve spent hours in front of my laptop at home, at coffee shops, at the beach—that was an unpleasant sensory experience—and it’s useless. Nothing is coming out. I’m just leaving a coffee shop, which serves mediocre coffee at best, after staring at a blank screen for ninety minutes when my phone rings.
“Hi, Robert,” I answer. I don’t know why I’m still taking his calls. Though he’s been mostly silent, this is the third time in three weeks.
“Lottie. How are you, babe? Listen, I’ve just emailed you something. Could you take a look at it for me? Dad needs the file by end of day tomorrow.” He didn’t even wait for me to answer his questions. Rather, he just bulldozed through to get to whatever he needed from me. So typical.
“Uh-huh.” I give a non-committal answer to keep myself from saying what I’m really feeling. It’s not worth getting into it with him right now .
“You’re the best. So, when will you be back? We miss you around here. You know, I never realized how much you were doing. Jack isn’t nearly as proficient as you are with budgeting strategies.” He chuckles at his stupid commentary, and I take a deep breath, reminding myself that Robert is at work, so he’s saying he misses me in a professional capacity because there might be someone around him. Of course, he’s just being professional. Still, I wish he’d miss me in other ways. Does he miss nothing else about me other than my ability to do my job and his?
I hear his muffled voice, and without even giving me a chance to speak, he continues, “I’ve got to go, Charlotte. But I’ll call again soon, okay? Take a look at that email for me? Tootles.” He hangs up.
Did I even say anything, or did he just have a whole conversation with himself?
As I stare at my phone, a text comes in from Maeve, so I open it right away. Better not to dwell on whatever that just was anyway.
MAEVE:
Charlotte Maeve Howard you haven’t called Raffy yet?
Shit . She used my full name. She never does that. It’s always the short form, Charlie Mae. It makes me sound like I’m a Southern belle, but it’s less harsh than my actual full name.
MAEVE:
He told me you said you’d be in touch. And you haven’t been.
Bollocks. I did say that, didn’t I? I hate being wrong. And forgetting details. Or making mistakes. And I made a mistake.
MAEVE:
Char. Please get in touch with him, will you?
ME:
I’ll text him. I promise.
My response makes me feel small, like a scolded child, though I know my sister’s intentions are nothing but loving.
ME:
Give my niece a big squeeze for me.
Love you most.
MAEVE:
I love you most, sissy. Speak soon, all right?
I know I just need to get this over with before I talk myself out of it. Rafael and I have had each other’s numbers for a while. He insisted on it when he was Maeve’s bodyguard, in case anything happened. I pull up his name and start typing, deleting the message at least four times before hitting send.
ME:
Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.
Would you like to have our first meeting soon?
The three little dots appear almost instantly, and I nearly drop my bag as I fumble with my phone in my hands.
RAFAEL:
How’s tonight?
Tonight ? Oh. It’s Friday night. Doesn’t he have a date to go on or something? And what if I had plans? As if. Of course I don’t, but he doesn’t know that!
RAFAEL:
Unless you already have plans. Maybe tomorrow?
Yeah, maybe I do have plans.
Except, I don’t.
ME:
Tonight’s fine.
My heart is hammering, and I cannot explain why.
Probably because you haven’t even talked to another human being other than the barista at the coffee shop down the road for approximately three days.
Ugh. Shut up.
RAFAEL:
Come over at 7. I’ll have dinner ready.
Dinner? How is he so casual about all of this? He sends his address next as if I won’t remember the house I’ve been avoiding going near for weeks, and I don’t respond. He doesn’t send any other messages, so I guess it’s settled. I’m going to Rafael’s house tonight. We’re going to eat dinner, and he’s going to help me sort out my future love life under the pretense that I need help with writing. Which I do, but that’s not all this is about.
It’s fine.
He doesn’t need to know.
Totally fine. I’m totally fine.