“You’ve seen him,” I say. “He’ll find somebody. He’ll be happy.”
“And what about you?” she asks, her voice loud and echoing in the room. “Doesn’t that matter?”
I shake my head. It’s better this way. I’ll survive.
Elle puts her bowl of ice cream on the table and looks unhappy. I’ve never seen her put down ice cream before. “Anyway,” she says, “what was it that made you call me? You’ve been moping around the store for a week without saying anything, so why now?”
“Marcy had the baby. My mom wants me to go up there and see her and also go to the hospital to see the baby. And I don’t know what to do.”
She laughs. “And ask me if I can take care of things at the store.”
“No,” I say. “I mean yes, but is not just that. If I go, I might see him. I was hoping you’d assure me that I’m doing the right thing. Tell me to be strong so that I don’t collapse into a puddle of tears.”
“You know I’m not going to do that,” she says.
I laugh. “Yeah, I know that now.”
Elle snatches the bowl of ice cream again. “I wouldn’t tell you that even if I agreed with you, Katti. This sucks. It’s okay to be in pain. You don’t have to be strong when you see the man you love, even if you made the choice to break your heart yourself.”
“I don’t love him.” The words come out automatically, because I’ve been telling myself that for the last week. I don’t love him. I don’t.
I don’t.
I don’t.
I do not.
Elle snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will.”
She sighs. “Of course I can take care of things at the store. You know I’ve got you.”
“I need to give you a raise.”
“You know I’ll take that any time,” she says, nearly spitting out her mouthful of ice cream. “Get your shit figured out. We’ve got a smooth machine. It’ll still be running when you get back.”
I laugh, and it feels good. “Thanks, Elle.”
“Anytime. Now. Vodka.”
“You really want to get drunk with me? Even though you think I’m an idiot?”
She yells on her way to the kitchen. “Of course I do. Yes, you’re an idiot who’s in love and won’t admit it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re hurting, so we’re going to get drunk and binge bad TV.”
I sigh as she hands me one of the shot glasses that we use when we do this, and relax into the feeling of doing something normal. Just for a little while.
12
The drive is not an easy one to make alone this time. Not with the memories of my last trip with Bryce so fresh. I think about the stop and the diner and the playful flirtation that we had. I think about the way he sang to me, and I have to blink back tears so that I can still see the road to drive.
I make a point not to stop at the same exits that we did. Nothing good is going to come of that. Nothing at all.
I turn off the radio and try to think about nothing. Having the radio on just makes me think of Bryce. But of course, my mind drifts. It goes all the way back to that night that seems to have started everything: the night of my graduation.
One of my friends snuck in jello shots, and I ate way too many of them. I may have even said to her, “You’ll never guess what I’m going to do tonight.”
“What?”
“Seduce someone.”
And then we collapsed into giggles. That whole night is blurry, but I try to focus in on the memory. Bryce was dressed in a blue button down. I remember that. “Bryce,” I may have slurred my words. “Can you help me with something in the pool house? I can’t reach it.”
He nodded. “Sure.”
I remember feeling the timbre of his voice down to my very bones. Holding the door open for him, I waited until he passed through before I closed the door and leaned against it. I remember seeing him turn to me, and looking for whatever it was that I needed help with.
But this time I try to see my fuzzy memory with new information: he wanted me too. Now, I see the shock as he takes in my position by the door, and the way he looks me up and down. Subtle signs, but they were there. Oh, how I wish I’d seen them.
The exact words that I said to him have been lost by time and alcohol, but I remember walking up to him slowly, and doing my best to be sexy. I stumbled and he caught me in his arms. At the time I thought his reluctance to touch me came from being a drunk idiot. Now I think he might have been holding himself back.