My skin crawls as I watch Kirsten drape herself over Tony for the hundredth time this week. Why must they always hang out here, in our tiny apartment that is overcrowded as it is?
I’m over him. I think I got over him the second I arrived home to find them cuddled up on the couch together. Tony belatedly made an effort to move away from her after it was obvious that I saw them together.
He never came back to the hospital after that first night. He never called either. When I saw them on the couch, I told him he could fuck whoever he wanted, including himself. And then I sarcastically thanked my roommates for coming to visit.
I make a sandwich and take it to my room—the room I share with my ex’s current girlfriend. The one who calls out after me before I shut the door, “Since when did you start eating carbs?”
I may have slammed the door a bit too hard after hearing her words.
A minute later, there is a knock on the door. Then Jamie walks in. She plops down on the bed next to me. “He’s a bottom-dwelling scum-sucker, I hope you know that.”
Jamie is the closest thing I have to a friend in New York, but even she didn’t visit me in the hospital, so I think that precludes her from earning the designation. But at least she’s nice to me.
“I know. And I’m glad to be rid of him, really I am. But do they have to flaunt it in front of me?”
She sighs and puts a hand on my arm. “Murphy, Tony has had something going with everyone in this apartment except me. And that’s only because I shot him down.”
My eyes bug out and I drop my sandwich. “What?”
“It’s true. You don’t know how badly I wanted to tell you. Everyone else here grew up in places like L.A. or Miami. But you came from Iowa. You were the innocent Midwestern girl who wouldn’t understand how the world really works. I guess we were all trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what—a cheating, lying boyfriend?”
“What Tony is doing is nothing new,” she says. “He wants to date a model. Be on the arm of a beautiful woman when she makes her rise to fame. He doesn’t have the ego or the bank account to date a successful model, so he finds up-and-coming ones.”
My jaw practically hits my lap. “Are you kidding me? So, all this time …”
She nods. “He just wants to go along for the ride. He doesn’t care with whom.”
I look towards the door. “And they are okay with that? So, what, is Kirsten the new me, and if she doesn’t work out, he’ll go on to Tori or Pauline?”
“Pretty much. You should be flattered, you know. At least he thought he had the best shot with you.”
I laugh, but it’s not genuine, it’s a bitter, cold laugh. “The best shot with me?” I ask, incredulously. “As in, if I hadn’t been hit by that ball, he’d still be pretending he was in love with me so he could use me and my potential celebrity status to benefit himself? Yeah, Jamie, I’m really freaking flattered.”
She holds up her hands. “Geez. Sorry I even said anything.”
I sigh, and put a hand on possibly my only chance at a friend. “No, I’m sorry. I’m glad you told me. But it’s kind of strange, Tony dumping me was one of two good things that came out of my accident.”
She looks at my face, studying my now-yellow bruise that isn’t quite so swollen. “Good things?”
“I thought I was in love with him, Jamie. I never would have known he wasn’t in it for who I am instead of what I was. Or what I almost was.”
“Yeah, but he’s really hot,” she says. “I mean, does it really matter?”
“Yes, it matters. And if he’s that hot, why don’t you just sleep with him like all of our other roommates?”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “Because I’m a lesbian, Murphy.”
I cover my mouth in shock. “Oh, my gosh. Really?”
She nods, laughing. “Like I said, innocent Midwestern girl.” She gets up to leave. “Hey, what was the second good thing?”
“Second good thing?” I say, realizing my slip. “Oh, nothing.”
My phone chirps with a text, saving me from having to acknowledge Jamie’s curious stare. She leaves the room as I pull out my phone and smile.
It’s my second good thing.
#8: Are you still in NYC, or did you go back to Iowa?
My smile widens when I think that maybe I just might have someone else I can call a friend.
Me: Still in NYC, why?
#8: You haven’t texted me. I figured that meant you went home.
Me: Nope. Still here and still watching my ex drape himself across my roommate every chance he gets.
#8: He’s a stupid prick, Murph.
Me: You don’t even know the half of it.
#8: Oh, really?
Me: Never mind.
#8: I’m not dropping this, but I want to find out about your surgery. What did the doctor say?
Me: He scheduled the surgery for Monday.
#8: Good. I’ll be back in town. What time Monday?
Good? Why does he think that is good?
Me: 3:00
#8: Perfect. You’ll probably be coming out of it by the time I get there. That is unless your mom will be sitting with you in recovery.
Me: I haven’t told my mom yet. And you don’t have to come, Caden. I’m a big girl.
#8: Are you crazy, Old Man Murphy?
I laugh out loud. It’s the first time I’ve done that in over a week. It feels good. It feels very good.
#8: And you not wanting me to come is exactly why I will.
Me: What?
#8: Never mind. Did you call Jayden?
Me: Actually, I did. And she said the job is mine whenever I feel up to it. I can’t thank you enough. You are a lifesaver.
#8: Glad to hear it. How’s the living situation? I mean, other than the bastard boyfriend and the back-stabbing roommate?
Me: Torturous. As soon as I can afford it, I’m out of here.
#8: That will be our next project then. Finding you a new place.
Me: Caden, you’ve done enough. And DON’T YOU DARE SAY IT!
#8: Lol. I wouldn’t dream of it after you shouted at me. Goodnight. See you Monday. Good luck with the surgery.
Me: Thanks.
Me: Wait! I’m so selfish. I didn’t even ask you how your games were this week. Did you get another home run?
#8: No more home runs. But we did win most of our games. Thanks for asking. And, Murph, you are anything but selfish.
Me: Glad you won. Have a good weekend.
#8: You, too. Don’t throw anything across the room when I’m not there ;-)
I finish my sandwich and go to bed, counting my lucky stars that I didn’t end up with a loser like Tony. Things are starting to look up. After all, I have a job to look forward to.
And just maybe, a friend.