Julian
At first, I don't believe it. It's a prank. It has to be. We saw Sophia on Saturday, and everything was good. We went to Club M. We got a private room and did the hottest scene in my life. We ate dinner afterward, soaked in Damien's hot tub, and talked about everything under the sun. She spent the night, ate breakfast with us the next day, and kissed us goodbye.
Everything seemed perfect.
What happened?
I tell myself frantically it's got to be some kind of joke. But my heart is racing, and my palms are clammy. A sense of déjà vu washes over me. This is exactly what happened ten years ago. We went to the club, everything seemed fine, and then she stopped talking to us.
Worry grips me. Did something happen at her work? Did she get fired? Was it because of the stupid flowers I took her?
I dial her number, still convinced this has to be a mistake. Still convinced whatever happened, we can work it out.
The call doesn't connect.
She's blocked my number.
Bile rises in my mouth. I stumble around my house, dazed, shocked, not knowing what hit me. The next thing I’m aware of is Damien coming over. “I just got a text from Sophia breaking things off,” he says dully.
“Me too.” I want to throw something. I want to scream. Shout. And more than anything, I want to understand.
“I thought she got into trouble at work, so I tried to call her.” Pain stabs through me. “She blocked my phone number.”
“She blocked mine too.” Damien looks the way I feel. Lost. “I had Xavier call her boss. She’s still there. This isn’t about her work.”
“Xavier asked her boss if she fired Sophia?”
“I assume he was more subtle than that,” he replies. “What the hell happened, Julian?”
I don't know. Just yesterday, I thought everything I ever wanted was within my grasp. The greenhouse was going to be ready for Hannah’s wedding. My sister wanted me to give her away. We’re closer now than we’ve been in a long time.
And I was in a relationship with Sophia.
Just yesterday, I thought I had everything.
“We have to do something,” I tell Damien.
“What do you suggest we do?” my friend snaps. “Because her message is pretty fucking clear. She says she doesn't want to see us. She blocked our phone numbers. There's no ambiguity here, none at all.”
“We could go see her,” I reply mulishly.
“And then what?” he asks. “We ignore her wishes and force ourselves into her life, and then what? Should I dangle another million dollars in front of her so she’ll talk to me again? Should I buy the health center and become her boss so she can’t avoid me?”
Pain flashes over his face. “She either wants to be with us, or she doesn't. I hate this, but she has the right to make these choices. I won’t turn into a stalker, Julian.”
Damn it. I hate when he’s right. I sink into a chair and cradle my head in my hands. “What are we going to do?”
“I don't know,” he says bleakly. “I guess we survive.”
Damien gave his mother an ultimatum yesterday. He needed to make space in his life for Sophia, and he was prepared to renounce the family firm for it. Twenty-four hours later, he has neither the firm nor the girl. “Have you heard from your mother?”
He shakes his head. “That’s the least of my problems right now.” He gets to his feet abruptly. “I’ll see you around, Julian.”
He’s lying. He won’t be around, and I won’t go looking for him. It’s too painful.
What do you do when your world ends? Over the days that follow, I ask myself that question, but the answer eludes me.
I write a note to Flores telling him I’m done working on the screenplay. He doesn't respond. I might have blown up the Revenant deal, but I can't bring myself to care.
In the past, when I’ve been overwhelmed, I always reached for my sketchpad. I buried myself in a concept and ignored everything else.
Not this time. My brain is blank. I’m entombed in a world of pain. It hurts to breathe. This time, when I pick up a pencil, all I can sketch is her. When I draw, my fingers remember her face.
And so I fill page after page with drawings of Sophia. That's all I can do.