Tony was right. I shouldn’t have done it. I even went so far as to not turn on the bathroom light up until now. But I forgot this time. And when I see a flash of my face in the mirror, I can’t help but stop and look. Kind of like when you see a train wreck. Which is what my face looks like—a train wreck.
So here I stand, stunned, looking at someone in the mirror who isn’t me. Well, I look like me if you cover the left side of my face. It’s worse than I thought. I know Dr. Benson said the swelling would get worse before it gets better. But as I stand here and look at my destroyed face, my hope of modeling paying the rent drains out of me as fast as my tears do.
I turn off the light, vowing not to turn it on again. I shuffle my feet back over to bed and pick up my phone.
“Hi, honey,” Mom says cheerfully, after only half a ring.
“Hi, Mom.”
She sighs into the phone. “What is it, Murph? What’s wrong?”
How do moms always know when something is wrong from just a few words? For a second, I contemplate telling her. I mean, what would be the big deal if she begs me to come home? I might not ever be able to model again anyway. Maybe Iowa is where I should be. Maybe it’s where I belong.
No. I remember Dr. Benson’s words from last night. I won’t let this break me.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just feeling a little down, I guess.”
“Well, you can always—”
“—move back home,” I say. “I know, Mom. Thanks for reminding me. Again. And moving back home will not make me happy. Everyone I care about is gone.”
I realize what I said and instantly try to backpedal. “I mean, except for you.”
“I know what you mean, honey. And I’m sorry you are feeling low. You know what your father would say?”
I laugh. “Yeah. I know. He would probably say he’s my biggest fan and he wants everything for me that I want for myself.”
“Sounds about right,” she says. “He’s still your biggest fan, you know. Only now he’s got a lot more clout behind him.”
“Thanks, Mom. But what if I don’t know what I want for myself?”
I hear her sigh into the phone. I’m waiting for her to beckon me home again when someone knocks on the door. I don’t want Mom to hear any doctors or nurses talking, so I tell her, “Mom, I have to go, someone’s at the door. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
A teenage girl walks in with a huge bouquet of flowers. They are beautiful. All my favorites. I can’t help the painful smile that creeps up my face. I knew Tony would get me some. Even if he wasn’t the one to bring them.
He must have gotten called into work today. He doesn’t normally work on Saturdays, so it’s just my luck someone must have had an emergency today. He works in computer technology and is climbing his way up the company ladder, so when they call—he goes.
“Thank you,” I tell the girl.
“Someone must really like you,” she says.
“My boyfriend.”
“You’re lucky,” she says on her way out.
I take a moment to smell the flowers before I open the card. When I open it, I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.
Get well soon, Old Man Murphy. And if you’re bored, I hear channel 31 is pretty good for entertainment.
– Caden Kessler
After I get over the disappointment of the flowers not being from Tony, I turn on channel 31 and can’t help but chuckle at what I see.
It’s a Nighthawks game.
~ ~ ~
I look at the clock. It’s after six. Why hasn’t he stopped by yet? Why hasn’t he texted me?
I pull my phone out and my fingers hover over Tony’s name. But then I remember what my mom keeps telling me. Always make sure the man you love needs you more than you need him. It’s the secret to a great relationship. I drop the phone on the bed next to me, refusing to be the needy girlfriend.
At seven o’clock, I’m on the brink of tears. Other than the nurse coming in to ice my face every few hours, and the doctor checking my stitches and my swelling, nobody has come to visit me. Not Tony. Not any one of my roommates. Nobody.
I’ve been so bored I actually watched the baseball game. I didn’t understand it, but I watched it.
“Hey, you,” I hear from the doorway.
I turn around in excitement. Then my face falls when I see it’s only Caden.
He laughs at me. “That might just be the worst reception I’ve ever gotten, Old Man Murphy.”
“I don’t want your ego getting too big,” I say. “And what’s with the Old Man Murphy thing?” I nod to the flowers. “Thank you so much for the flowers. They are beautiful.”
He looks around the room. I know what he’s noticing. He sees that his flowers are the only ones here. I wonder if he thinks I was lying to him about my boyfriend.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He walks over to take a sniff. “When I came last night, I was convinced I was looking for an old man. Someone at work said Murphy Cavenaugh sounded like a retired dairy farmer or something, and I guess I just pictured that in my head.”
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what?” he asks.
“How surprised you were to see me in this hospital bed when you were standing in my doorway last night.”
He shakes his head. “No. I was just grateful I wasn’t the magazine you were throwing across the room and screaming at.”
“Sorry about that,” I say.
I remember the moment I did it. I had just come across an advertisement for the very same clothing line I was hired to model for.
“So, tell me about your name. Is Murphy a family name?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You’ve heard of Murphy’s Law, haven’t you?”
“Yeah.” He furrows his brow. “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.”
I laugh. “That’s what most people think. But one of the earliest versions of it is a little different. It states, ‘whatever can happen, will happen’.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” he asks.
“Nope. Think about it. Whatever can happen doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, whereas whatever can go wrong, assumes that an outcome will not be a positive one.”
“Okay.” He ponders my statement. “You make a good point. And now I know you’re a glass-half-full person. So, tell me, why were you named after Murphy’s Law?”
“My parents tried to have a baby for ten years before they gave up. They tried everything including fertility treatments and implantation. Nothing worked. Then two years later, after they’d stopped trying and accepted a life without children, my mom got pregnant.”
A brilliant smile creeps up his face and I see what I hadn’t noticed before. Caden Kessler is hot. Like, freakishly hot. He’s tall, but not excessively so. Built, but not crazy buff. He has dark hair and the most amazing eyelashes. They are so long. Every model I know would kill for eyelashes like that.
“What a great story,” he says.
“Maybe, but I’m starting to think the other version of it is the right one.” I gesture to my swollen face. “Case in point. Everything went wrong.”
“Or maybe everything happens for a reason,” he says. “That should be a law, too.”
“Kessler’s Law,” I say.
He nods proudly. “I like the sound of that.”
I laugh and then my hand comes up to cradle the left side of my face.
“Hurts when you laugh, huh?”
“When I laugh. When I smile. When I talk. Pretty much when I do anything except watch TV.”
He gives me a look and then picks up the remote control and points it at the TV, turning it on. When he sees what channel it was turned to, a triumphant smile overtakes his face. He winks at me. “I’ll make a baseball lover out of you yet.”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “It seems kind of pointless. Most of the time when someone hits the ball, it gets caught. And sometimes a guy can swing a bunch of times before anything happens. I’m sorry, but it’s kind of boring.”
“Boring?” He grabs his chest like he’s having a heart attack as he backs up and falls into the chair in the corner. “You just invalidated my entire existence.”
I wince from the guilt. “I’m really sorry. But obviously tons of other people like it. The stands were full.”
“Yeah. Saturday games always get a great turn out.”
My phone vibrates next to me. I look to see it’s my agency calling. I check the time. Why are they calling me on a Saturday night?
“I’m sorry,” I tell Caden. “It’s my agency, I need to take this.”
My shaky finger swipes across the screen before I say, “Hello?”