I did a pretty good job of pretending to be okay while we watched the footage.
I smiled a lot, responded when someone asked me a question, and laughed when everyone else did.
I thought I pulled it off just fine.
We only stayed at the studio for about a half-hour after we ate… just long enough to watch some choice sections of footage and clean up our mess.
Jonah was happy with the way everything had come out, and he promised that it would look a hundred times better post-production.
I really didn't care.
I was happy that he was happy, but I was completely preoccupied with the fact that Lance had neither called nor texted me back.
I knew something was wrong.
I knew there had been a misunderstanding.
I cried on the way home. Tears of hurt and frustration rolled down my cheeks, and I angrily wiped them away. I couldn’t fathom that I had already managed to mess things up with Lance. The heartache caused a literal pain in my chest—a hopeless, lost feeling that was akin to falling into a dark hole.
I drove home, feeling like I was going to the wrong place. I didn't want to go home. I wanted to go straight to Lance's and straighten things out, but I didn't feel like I had the right to just show up at his house unannounced. Plus, Sheila had been in her kennel for a long time, and I knew I needed to let her out.
I called him again on my way home—twice actually. Once while I was on the road and again right when I pulled up at my house. He didn't pick up, and I didn't leave a message. I sent him another text once I made it into my apartment. Sheila was anxious to see me, but I couldn’t pay attention to her until I composed the text.
I decided to pretend I didn't know anything about a misunderstanding, just in case there hadn't been one.
Me: "Hey! We're done at the studio. I'm home now. Was thinking about you. Wanted to see if you want to hang out."
I stared at my phone, hoping, wishing that I would hear back from him right away.
Nothing.
Sheila jumped on me, wagging her tail and looking overjoyed to see me. I didn't feel like being nice, but she hadn't done anything to deserve my wrath, so I forced to smile and scratched her behind her ears.
"Hey girl, you need to go outside, huh?"
She instantly started whining when I said the word 'outside'. She knew what that word meant, and she definitely needed to go there.
"You want to get in the car and go for ride?" I asked. This, too, was a phrase she was familiar with, and instantly, her whining increased and she started jumping around and wagging her tail like crazy.
"Okay, let's go," I said, planning on driving to Lance's.
I got all the way to the door before realizing that I still had on the remnants of the makeup and clothing I wore for the video shoot. I was so delirious that I had completely forgotten. I had a mirror next to the door, and I stared at myself for a few seconds, knowing that the stage makeup didn't at all fit my vulnerable mood. The tear-streaks weren't great either.
I looked down at Sheila, who was chomping at the bit to go outside. "Five minutes," I said. "I'm sorry, girl, but I need five minutes to take a shower."
I ran to the bathroom, taking off my clothes and tossing them to the side like a wild person, not caring where they landed. I took about three minutes to scrub my hair and face, then got out and towel dried my hair and body before throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
I had on no makeup whatsoever, and my hair was still wet when I left for Lance's house. I barely remembered to slip on a pair of sandals. I took Sheila on a quick lap in the grass before we got in the car, but otherwise, I wasted no time whatsoever.
I really hoped I would hear back from him while I was on my way there so that my visit wasn't completely unannounced, but I didn't. He didn't call or text me back.
I pictured all sorts of outcomes while I was on my way to his house. In most of them, I threw myself into his arms and told him the whole thing has been a big misunderstanding. I thought of different things I would say to explain to him why I had said I was dating a guy named Nick, and then I reminded myself that perhaps he hadn't even heard any of that.
I wouldn't know until I talked to him. I pulled up at his house and instantly felt new round of heartache when I realized the Camaro was not there.
I contemplated leaving, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. I let Sheila out of the car and walked into his backyard with her. I stared at the markings on her back, remembering the story I told his niece and nephew. I absolutely could not lose him. I would not stand for it.
I sent him another text.
Me: "I came to your house. I'm here now. Sorry. I know I wasn't invited. I just wanted to see you. I guess I'll leave if I don't hear from you soon. Please call me."
I knew as I pressed send that it was a desperate message, but the fact of the matter was that I was a desperate woman.
Sheila and I were still in his back yard—way back by the citrus trees—when he called. I got so excited that I nearly dropped my phone when I tried to answer it.
"Hello? Lance?"
"Yeah." His voice seemed neutral and direct—not happy or sad, just normal.
"Hey, it's Sidney."
"I know."
"Did you get my message?"
"Yeah, I didn't have my phone on me. I'm at D.J.'s. I came over here to swim with the kids."
"Oh, okay. I was hoping to see you."
There was a long pause. Way too long. I was so anxious for him to say something that I almost asked if he was still there.
"Sidney," he said finally. He sounded reluctant. "I, uh, I think…" he trailed off with a sigh.
"You think what?" I asked, feeling desperate.
"I think we shouldn't talk. I think I might have felt too much too fast. I think it's better if—"
"You didn't," I said, not letting him finish. His words caused me to experience a gut-clenching mixture of hope and desperation. I felt all the blood leave my head, and I propped myself against the nearest tree because it was suddenly difficult to stand or think straight. "You didn't feel too much. It's not too fast," I said.
"Sidney, I think I want more from you than you can—"
"I want that too," I said, cutting him off again. "I can do whatever you're saying."
He made a frustrated sound like I wasn't understanding where he was coming from and I wasn't letting him finish.
"Can you please just come to your house and talk to me?" I pleaded. "Can I please just see you and talk to you in person instead of over the phone?"
There was another long pause.
"Please, Lance."
"All right," he agreed. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Thank you. I'll wait. I'll be here."
The fifteen minutes that followed were perhaps the longest minutes of my entire life.
My heart pounded the entire time. I had a tennis ball in my car and I threw it for Sheila to fetch, but even that didn't make the time go by any faster. I looked at my phone what must have been ten times in between tosses just to check the time and make sure he hadn't called or sent me a text message.
The sun was setting, and I kept looking at the sky, thinking about what a beautiful backdrop God has given us and trying to be thankful for the small things—trying to fight the feelings of hopelessness.
Finally, I saw Lance's car turn into the driveway. He parked next to his truck, and I watched from about twenty feet away as he got out of the car. He closed the door and slowly walked around to the back of it. He leaned against the trunk and regarded me as if he expected me to cross the remaining distance.
He was guarded, distant.
I felt heartbroken.
He had on jeans and a t-shirt with sandals. His clothes were dry, but his hair was still wet, and he ran his hand through it to get it off of his forehead before crossing his arms. Sheila was off leash, and she ran up to him, wagging her tail. Lance bent at the waist to greet her as I headed toward him.
"Jonah thought you were gonna come by the studio," I said, figuring it was just about as good a place as any to start.
"I did go by there," he said, standing again. He gave me a regretful half-smile. "Jonah wasn't there. It was just you and the guitarist, sitting on the couch."
I stared at this gorgeous man. He was the picture of perfection, leaning against that car with his damp hair. He looked like he had been chiseled from stone—a work of art. His guarded expression pained me. He was clearly hurt, and I was the one who had made him feel that way. I felt the oddest urge to collapse at his feet—just getting on my knees right there at his feet and beg him to know how very much I cared about him.
I didn't do that.
I settled for standing there, a few feet in front of him, absentmindedly shifting my stance and not knowing what to do with my feet or my hands.
"Could you hear what we were saying?" I asked.
"Yes, Sidney."
"Did you hear me say something about a guy named Nick?"
"Yes, I did, Sidney, and that's what I'm saying. You obviously have other things going on, and that's fine. I should have known better than to let myself get so, I don't know, involved. Whatever."
"Not whatever, Lance. I'm involved, too."
"Not like me, Sidney. I was…" he hesitated.
"You were what?"
"I was all in. I was ready to… never mind."
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"Say it. Please."
"I had already given you…" he stopped talking, made a thoughtfully pained face, and placed his hand over his chest as if to say that he had already given me his heart. "It's stupid," he said, dropping his hand and shaking his head. "I should have known better."
"No, you shouldn't have," I said, desperately. He wasn't looking at me, and I shifted so that I was in his line of vision, begging him to make eye contact with me. "I was all in, too. I am all in, Lance. There is no Nick. I mean, there was, but it's been years. I haven't seen him in years. I lied today. I only said I was seeing that guy because of you."
He let out a little scoff like that made no sense whatsoever, and I took a step closer to him. Sheila walked away, and neither of us had the capacity to pay attention to her.
"It's true, Lance. Please listen to me and understand what I'm saying. That guy asked me if I wanted to go out with him, and I wanted to tell him that I was already seeing someone… that I was already seeing you. But then, I panicked. I knew you knew those guys, I didn't want to make things awkward for you. I was in this weird situation where I didn't know if you were ready to say we were seeing each other or not, so I just said the only thing I could think of to make him stop asking me. There's no Nick. It was a lie."
"Was everything else a lie?" he asked.
"What?"
His eyes met mine and he stared at me with a serious expression.
I could hardly breathe. I didn't breathe.
"Everything else you said, Sidney. That whole bit about your family. The part about your dad leaving, and your aunt and cousins moving in when you were a kid. Was all that made up?"
I felt hot tears begin to roll down my cheeks at the sheer embarrassment of it all. Not only was I embarrassed for having been called out for saying all that, I was also mortified that he knew any of it.
"Don't cry," he said, glancing away as if he couldn’t stand to see me.
"I can't help it," I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand. My words came out in a high-pitched whimper and Sheila, who had been on the patio, came back to me. I didn't acknowledge her, but she stayed by my side.
"Was it the truth?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted, still unable to stop the tears. "It was the ugly, stupid, ridiculous truth, Lance."
"That's an issue, then, Sidney. Don't you think?"
"I knew it would be an issue. That's exactly why I didn't tell you."
He gave me an irritated, disbelieving scowl. "It's an issue that you felt like you could have that conversation with Trevor Yates but not with me, Sidney. That's the issue. You think it was fun for me to sit there and listen to you telling him things you never told me? Do you think it was fun for me to hear you talk about your feelings, and your childhood, all that real stuff with someone else? It wasn't. It wasn't fun at all. I hated it. You were being real with him—saying things that made me feel like I didn't even know who you really were. I hated him for being the one who got to see you open up like that. I wanted to physically hurt him, to fight him."
I loosely covered my face with my hands and stood there staring through my fingers at his legs and feet, and the pavement.
I was heartbroken and I didn't know what to say to fix any of it. I felt empty, and I wanted more than anything for Lance to take me into his arms and tell me he forgave me and that everything would be all right.