Chapter 23 #2
As I leave her to desecrate my bathroom, I hear my phone ringing from the living room. I rush to see who it is, hoping dumbly against hope, but it’s not even my phone ringing—it’s Maral’s. The name scrolling across the top reads Celine Grant.
I knew they’d been in touch since San Francisco—Mar mentioned something about introducing her to people at the Boston MPA so she could network for potential national internship opportunities—but didn’t realize they were on regular-calls terms. Although maybe this isn’t so regular. Maybe something happened?
Quickly, I swipe to answer. “Celine, hi,” I say. “It’s Ana.”
“Ana!” she squeals on the other end. “How are you?”
This ray of sunshine. Is it possible to miss someone you barely know?
“Getting through,” I say, surprising myself by not saying my rote line of I’m fine. Is this what they call progress? “Maral’s indisposed for the moment. Is everything okay?”
“Totally!” she says. “Well, actually. Y’know, depends on what you call okay. I’m in kind of a bind.”
Something pinches in my chest. Shit. In all my own drama, Celine’s tuition predicament got back-burnered in my mind. Ryan’s leaving the cash cow behind.
“I’m so sorry,” I rush out. “About your tuition.”
“Ugh,” she says. “Yeah, that’s a bummer. But at least my brother can finally be happy for once in his life. Worth the debt!”
I chuckle at her dramatics. “To be fair, I don’t think working at Woodsworth made him that unhappy.”
“But it was always an obstacle standing in his way with you. And now it’s gone! I saw that picture of you guys kissing—which, gross, by the way. But also, like, finally.”
I’m at a loss, not quite following. “Finally,” I say, it coming out as more of a hesitant statement than a question.
“Yeah! He’s had a crush on you forever. All I’ve heard about for years is how amazing you are.
I kept telling him, leave Woodsworth so you can ask her out!
But he talked all this nonsense about the tuition-matching program and maintaining professional boundaries,” she says, dropping her voice to emulate him.
“He always does that. Denies himself, puts himself last. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure he thought he didn’t stand a chance with you.
I mean, the way he talked about you, it was as if you lit the sun.
But then you guys kissed and it was like, Woodsworth who? ”
I try to form words, but they’re trapped in tar somewhere behind my sternum. Had a crush on you forever keeps whirling like a dervish in my mind.
“I just want him to be happy!” Celine goes on. “Merit’s been trying to recruit him for ages—since he did some tie-in thingy with their team or something? He kept refusing to take it seriously. But, boom, one kiss and he’s blowing up their phone the next day.”
I’m desperately trying to catch up to what she’s saying. Merit’s wanted Ryan for a while—that must be why he was able to make the new gig happen so fast after Kissgate. “I mean, that kiss did threaten his job at Woodsworth. It was smart of him—necessary, even—to line something else up.”
“Oh, he didn’t call them after that photo went viral—it was after your first kiss. In Seattle, I think it was?”
What? He planned on switching jobs because we kissed one time? My pulse is running a marathon as I think of Ryan’s strict adherence to professional boundaries—until I plowed right through them. Did he reach out to Merit out of guilt? Because he’d behaved inappropriately?
Or was he trying to eliminate the obstacle in the way of something happening between us? Not knowing I’d be a whole other, insurmountable one…
It was just a kiss, though. We hadn’t even slept together yet…I hadn’t explained yet that I didn’t want anything serious. Did he, even then?
I definitely don’t feel casual about you. I never have.
He’s had a crush on you forever.
My heart is banging against my rib cage like a wrongfully convicted prisoner as I try to make sense of it all. I know I’m fooling myself if I think that kiss was just a kiss, when really it was like opening the fucking gates of heaven. Even I felt the promise in it…even if I told myself I didn’t.
“But he kept his distance,” I say, my voice strangled. “Like when we were with you in San Francisco—he was still toeing the company line.”
“Well, he hadn’t secured the new job yet by then.
He was still in talks with them—I know because he took meetings from my apartment and bored me half to death talking about strategic management.
” She makes a fart sound through her lips.
“Plus he was worried about making you uncomfortable—he was still your publicist at that point.”
As the haze begins to clear, Ryan’s concern about my discomfort drifts to the surface. I sigh inwardly at his chivalry. “I guess it wasn’t secure yet by the time that photo spread online, either. He was so worried about getting fired.”
“Oh yeah, I mean, it’s never a good look to be caught kissing a client.
He didn’t know if the photo would affect the new job, either, and we can’t afford for him to have no job.
But he told Merit it wasn’t tawdry, and they’d already talked to some of the authors he’s worked with as references, who all praised him for being super professional. So I guess he got a pass.”
I throw up a silent thank-you to the universe that Kissgate didn’t rain shit on his reputation. Chalk it up to the patriarchy that men can get away with something like that as long as they have strong character references otherwise. At least in Ryan’s case, he’s earned that honor.
“I thought he took the new job because it would give him more time to write.” I was so gratified, thinking our acquaintance had given him the push he needed.
He didn’t deny it, or tell me any of the things Celine’s telling me now.
But then, he wouldn’t have. He knew I was skittish as a squirrel, that any pressure would send me sprinting for the highest tree.
Knew I’d perceive his leaving Woodsworth to clear the path for something real with me as level-ten pressure. He would have been right.
But I don’t think he’d be right anymore.
Celine makes a sympathetic sound on the other end of the line.
“I’m not saying that’s not part of it, but it’s all wrapped up together.
Ana, he never would have taken that plunge to prioritize his writing if not for you.
He’s just never given space to what he wants, you know?
But it’s like he’s seeing everything differently now. Because of you.”
My spine gives out, and I crumple back into the couch cushions.
“Which, yay,” she says. “Because now you guys can finally be together!”
My head is swimming, drowning, gasping for air as it tries to stay afloat in the churning waters of all this new information.
All the bits and pieces coming together to form the larger picture, this beautiful, sweeping watercolor, bright and vivid in the light.
Ryan had feelings for me, but didn’t act on them.
Kept them under strict lock and key, just as he did his creative dreams. Centered his sister’s needs, like the responsible father figure he’s always been to her.
There’s no help for my makeup, it’s a lost cause. I’ll be puff pastry tonight. I can’t stop the tears that stream down my face, my running mascara making Rorschach splotches on my skin.
He always does that. Denies himself, puts himself last.
The words are sharp, acute, a scalpel slitting a vital organ. He denied himself for my sake too. Wanted a relationship but settled for just (the best-ever) sex. Put my needs first. Even when my needs hurt him.
He may be his own worst enemy, but I’m no better.
And poor Celine thinks we’re a couple. Doesn’t know about the fallout. Ryan hasn’t told her. I feel guilty revealing something he maybe didn’t want to share with her yet, but I also feel guilty lying to her.
At last, I relent. Let the chips fall where they may.
“We’re…not together,” I say.
There’s a long pause. Then: “Why not?” she asks, such innocence in the question that I have an instinct to tuck her away in a nest and keep her safe from the world.
“I…I couldn’t,” I croak.
She’s silent for a moment. “Oh.” Then, knowingly, “Is it ’cause he’s such a dork?”
My laugh, if you can call it that, sounds pained. “He’s not a dork.”
“Is it ’cause you’re way out of his league?”
“Does he really think that?” I ask, disbelieving.
“Any sane person would think that.”
“Then they should check their sanity.”
“Is it ’cause you’re moving to L.A.?” she asks. “He would move there, you know. I’m pretty sure he’d move to the middle of the woods if you were going to be there. And he hates the woods.”
A tear, warm and salty, breaches my lips. “So do I.”
Another pause. “Then…why?”
I shake my head, though she can’t see me. “I have…” Unsure how to say it, I settle on, “Some issues. Someone hurt me, a long time ago, and I haven’t quite figured out how to get past it.”
“Oh,” she says sagely. “Well, you know, there’s therapy for that.”
“Never thought I needed it. I have Taylor Swift’s entire catalog.” I sigh. “But you’re right. I’m going to book an appointment.” I mean it. I have work to do, and I’m determined to do it. I’ve never stood to lose so much.
She exhales loudly. “Good. ’Cause I was so freaking excited about you being my sister-in-law, you have no idea.”
I laugh, charmed by this woman I’d be honored to be related to. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Can’t help it.”
That, I understand. “About your tuition…”
“We’ll make it work. I’ve already applied for student loans. Plus, if I keep my GPA above a certain level, I can apply for scholarships. And Maral’s a hot connection—I’m already in talks about a job next summer that’ll help pay down the loans and look great on my résumé.”
There Mar goes, being a guardian angel for yet another go-getter. The relief I feel about the Grants’ financial situation is tangible. “You said you were in a bind, though.”
“I am!” she wails. “My fluid mechanics class assignment is sucking my will to live.”
I smile, relieved to hear of a problem that, while it may not be small, feels manageable. Solvable. “Do you want me to make you a video? Remind you how capable you are?”
She gasps. “You would do that for me?”
“Call it an equal exchange. Maybe you could put in a good word with your brother.”
She laughs, a bell chiming from three thousand miles away. “Deal.”
We sign off after I give her my own number and make her promise to stay in touch with me, no matter what happens. She says I’ll be sorry for inviting that into my life, and I tell her she’ll be even sorrier, which summons another darling giggle from her.
When I press the End button, the screen reverts to the last app that was open on Maral’s phone—her text chain with Celine. The last few messages were sent only fifteen minutes ago.
Maral: hey, are you free right now? can you call me?
Celine: sure! everything okay??
Maral: yeah. ana could use some talking to. about you-know-who. from someone other than me
I squint at the screen, then up at the bathroom door, behind which lies suspicious silence. No burrito evidence to be heard.
Pretty sneaky, cuz.