Chapter 21
Liz, April 1
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Do you ever have those moments where your stomach drops out because you’re so nervous? I just sent an email to Ben. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s been 34 days since he cut me out of his life without so much as a band-aid, and I just emailed him. Stupid, Liz. What the hell were you thinking? He made it pretty clear that he’s not interested in speaking to me. He wants me to move on. He…
Responded.
I can’t open it. I’m sure it says “Didn’t you get the hint? This email address has now been blocked as well.”
I chew at the edge of my thumbnail, then switch to the cap of my pen. My leg won’t stop bouncing against the floor.
I open the response. I don’t know why.
Liz,
I actually will be attending, thanks for reminding me to RSVP. Let Candy know I’ll see her there.
Ben
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my freaking gosh.
I actually click “Reply” and close the reply box eight times before finally shutting down my laptop without sending anything. The laptop screen glares at me like it knows my secrets, and I slam it closed, pressing my palm flat against the lid until my hand hurts. My hand shakes as I write a little 1 with a circle around it next to Ben’s name. I officially have a month and a half until I have to come face-to-face with Ben.
Quickly locating my own name on the organized spreadsheet, I erase the 1 and change it to a 2. Then I pick up my phone and send a text to Matt.
Liz: Hey on May 23rd I have a high school reunion. Would you go with me?
Matt: Yeah
Liz: Thanks so much
Matt: No problem
I set my phone down and stare at it for a moment. Truth is, I barely even thought of Matt until I needed him. But I can’t be alone at this thing when I see Ben. I need someone next to me — someone solid, someone who proves I’ve moved on.
There. Now when I have to face him I can show him I’m not a loser.
Thirty minutes and a lot of stress-thinking later, I realize my mistake. When I have to face him he’ll see exactly what he manufactured. He’ll see little Liz following orders by calling Matt and trying to make it work. God, he’s going to be so damn proud of himself for putting this all together!
How can I make him feel like he’s messed up by being a callous ass if his little plan works out?
I throw my head back, hands fisted at my sides, and scream into my empty apartment: “Damn you, Ben, you clever little English wanker!”