It took longer than I expected to get back into my work routine, and I place all the blame on the email affair I am having with Cal. Our emails to each other have started to get more frequent and longer. His movie started filming, so he explains to me in detail what his daily activities are like and what’s coming up for him. He includes pictures of himself on set or just lounging in his room, which only intensifies my want for him. He always ends his emails asking what I am doing, how my day was, what Chicago is like, and why I haven’t picked up the phone yet. As soon as I told Robert about what happened in Las Vegas, he is on the pro-Cal band wagon and even helps takes photos of the city when we are around town to send in my emails. He thinks I’m crazy for not calling him, but I still stand firm with my decision of email only. The emails have become the highlight of my day, and I have to mentally reprimand myself not to check them every hour for his response. The only time my resolve cracks is when I am lying in bed at night, alone. The desire to hear his voice is so strong that I’ve now started to put my phone in the other room to avoid the temptation of calling him.

“Have you two shared dirty emails yet?” Layla asks with an evil smile as we sit in our normal booth at O’Malley’s three weeks later. It seems that as of late, my relationship with Cal is the favorite topic of discussion when all three of us get together.

“No, because his assistant checks his email. In fact, I got one from her today under his email letting me know that I might not hear from him for a couple of days as they only have three days left in Las Vegas until production moves to Hong Kong, so he is working twelve-hour days.”

“That’s just creepy that she checks his emails,” Robert says, before ordering another round of drinks for us.

“I understand why she does it, and I actually appreciate her warning me.”

“So no dirty emails and you won’t call him for some phone sex? What a dull relationship. You’re being stupid, Jenna!” Robert reminds me for the millionth time. I shrug my shoulders as I sip my drink, his comment not worth responding to.

“I think she’s being smart,” Layla chimes in, sending a warning look to Robert that does not go unnoticed.

“Thank you, I do too. I’m just being careful to not let myself get hurt again.”

“Of course you would think that. You two bitter yentas are going to grow old together if you keep that thinking up.” We laugh at his choice of words, and I try to recall if he has ever mentioned his own heartache in the past.

“Have you not gotten your heart broken before, Robert?”

“Of course, my heart has been completely slaughtered. Once. And yes, it was brutal. But I am in love with love, and I believe that you can find love multiple times. Remember the good times with that person. Remember the reasons why you aren’t together. You repeat the cycle until you find the one whose idiosyncrasies are livable, and you can’t imagine life without them.”

He makes it sound so simple. Like snapping your fingers can turn off your emotions to proceed with life. The brain doesn’t work that way. I am convinced it completely wants to mind fuck you if you let it. I’m done giving the power of my feelings to someone else. I am in control and I’ll decide who will be the worthy recipient.

“All right Yoda, so what do you suggest us bitter yentas do to change our ways?” Layla inquires with a sarcastic smirk on her face. I look at her with raised eyebrows, surprised she asks a question that will produce an answer we all know she won’t like.

“Do you think you can handle my answer, Layla? Because you know I only tell it like I see it.”

“Bring it! We haven’t known each other long. You’ll barely scratch the surface,” she says with a confident smile.

My gaze shifts back to Robert, who takes a big sip of his drink. Layla thinks Robert is being arrogant and when she does, she enjoys nothing more than to call him out and prove how wrong he is. This is the wrong place and the wrong time for this current challenge, and I brace myself for the possibility of this to turn nasty, as Layla’s wounds run deeper than mine. Any topic regarding herself gets quickly dismissed.

“What I am about to say comes from a place of love and not criticism, even though it might come out that way. All statements are just my opinion - an outsider looking in. I love you both so much and just want us all to be happy.” He clears his throat before he proceeds. “Layla, you use your curves as an excuse. You have started to believe the lie that you tell yourself that a man showing interest in you only means he’s curious what sex with a fat girl would be like. Well, that’s bullshit! You had a man who loved you for you, curves and all. He died and yes, that fucking sucks and is unfair. It happens to millions of other people too. Stop using his death as an excuse to not live anymore! You are still alive, surrounded by people who love you, and want to see you happy. You ARE beautiful! You ARE smart, and there are plenty of other men out there who’ll want you just the way you are, exactly like your husband did. Stop lying to yourself, thinking we are satisfied with your excuses, because we see through it all. Do you think he would like how you are currently living? If you want to even call it that.”

My mouth hangs open, completely shocked at how brutally honest he just got with her. Robert is new to our circle - he never knew Layla before her husband, during her marriage and when he died. But Robert is an old soul despite his youth, and I’m learning that his judge of character is spot on. He’s completely right about Layla. She parties and has sex with random men to numb her pain. I have tried to talk to her about it, but she refuses to talk and tells me she’s doing just fine. I grab her hand underneath the table and squeeze. I know she wants to run right now, her natural instinct to do so when things get too emotional for her. Her expression stays emotionless, her eyes cold as she looks at Robert.

“Are you done?” she asks in a hard voice.

“Only if you want me to be.”

“I think I’m quite done hearing your assessment.”

“I don’t mean to hurt you, Layla. I’m just trying to be honest. Please believe me when I say that I don’t want to say these things to you, but what kind of friend would I be if I continued to be silent?” He softly pleas with her to understand and not be mad, but she only nods at him and looks away.

“Okay, my turn.” I change the subject so Layla can calm down and the focus not be on her anymore. Even though I certainly don’t want the attention on me, I’m intrigued to hear what he’s going to say.

He shifts his gaze to me and gives me a sad smile. “Jenna, you thought you had the perfect marriage, the perfect husband and life. You didn’t. There is no such thing. People are flawed. Marriages are flawed and that’s how it is. You still have your ex-husband on a pedestal and use him as an example of why you shouldn’t move on. You automatically assume every man isn’t going to want to be with you after a period of time. That you must be dull or boring. You are neither of those. Your ex didn’t change overnight - you both met in the working world, where you both were working long hours. It was your everyday normal. You allowed it to continue because you were focused on your new career and didn’t feel guilty that you weren’t paying attention to him, because he wasn’t paying attention to you. You BOTH stopped being involved in your marriage, using work as your excuse to not spend time with each other. You still work crazy hours and won’t stop to make yourself a priority. You don’t even try to see what else is out there. And then, someone does show interest in you and what do you do? You play games with him!”

“Oh yes, Jenna, you’re most certainly playing games with Cal,” he says, acknowledging the incredulous look at my face. “He wanted to continue pursuing you, and you only gave him your email address? What the fuck is that? How is giving him your email address guarding your heart? Be honest, you’re emotionally involved with every email you write. Don’t lie to yourself by saying you won’t be disappointed when those emails stop, because you will be! You think he’s going to continue emailing you after a couple more months, if that? You’re dangling him on a rope. You’re wasting his time, and he’ll realize that and the emails will completely stop. And then it’ll be too late to pick up that phone to call him. People make long distance relationship work all the time. So what if he’s an actor? He’s a human being and if you continue with this game, you’ll never know if his intentions are true or not.” He downs his drink and sits back in his chair with his arm crossed.

“I’m sorry, Jenna, and I don’t mean for my words to hurt you either as I love you as well.” He looks back and forth between me and Layla. “You both need to let the past stay in the past and not define your future.”

We all sit there is silence, looking everywhere but each other. I feel Layla grab my hand and I look over at her. Her eyes are questioning if I’m okay, and I give her a small smile in response. We all look up as our favorite bartender, Nico, stops at our table and places shots of whiskey in front of us.

“I don’t know what is going on over here, but you all look fucking depressing. Lighten up, my favorite people! Pick up those shots and let’s toast!” We do as we are commanded and pick up the shots as Nico serenades us with one of his favorite Irish toasts.

We salute each other and throw back the shot, grimacing as the whiskey burns down our throats. We thank Nico as he takes the shot glasses away and leaves us back to our silence.

“I didn’t mean to ruin the evening,” Robert says as he places some cash on the table and gets ready to leave.

“Robert, you didn’t ruin anything.” I stand and give him a hug. “Thank you for being honest with me…with us. I know you’re coming from a place of love and I am so grateful for that. I know I’m not going to change tomorrow, but I can promise you that I will think long and hard about what you said and try to find ways to improve.” I look over to Layla. “Layla, what do you think?”

She looks at us, sighs and gets up from the table to hug us. “I love you both, even when your honesty feels like a knife to my heart. I know I need to work on myself. All I can say is that I will try.”

And we end our night out with promises that we pray we can keep.