Ever

I’m sitting in the living room with Nina and my mother watching The Dog Whisperer, eating cheese Danishes. Perhaps not conventional break-up remedies, but we’re working with what we’ve got. Nina apparently retrieved my mother’s phone number from my cell while I was indulging myself in a crying jag under my pillow, because she arrived in a perfumed flurry an hour ago, bakery box in hand. My hair is wet from the shower they forced me to take against my will, and I’m letting it drip all over the couch cushions in protest. Weirdly, that tiny rebellion is making me feel less shitty. But I’m nowhere near better.

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and I’m still in this weird bubble. A bubble filled with fog. After the scene with Charlie, I dived into a yellow cab, floated up the stairs to my apartment in a blur and crawled under my comforter. My cell phone went absolutely bonkers at first—guess who—so I shut it off. An hour later, my apartment buzzer started going off nonstop, so I did the mature thing and disconnected it from the wall with a butter knife and scissors. Really short sighted, considering my super will probably take six months to repair it. Something tells me he won’t be thrilled with the excuse, “I needed to have a think-cry and the noise was distracting.”

Charlie could have easily gotten into the building—by charming a female neighbor or flat out breaking the door down—but I think he knows I would deck him if he didn’t respect my free will, while I’m contemplating murdering him over that very same thing.

Here’s the thing. I know Charlie meant it when he said he loves me. I sure as shooting meant it, too. My dilemma is whether or not I’m still willing to form a relationship with someone who acted so selfishly. Someone who hurt me, whether or not it was intentional. After my mother’s revelation about loneliness, I was scared. I confided in Charlie the importance of following through on my promise to my mother, and he still tried to ruin my chance at a committed relationship.

On top of everything, I’m embarrassed. So very embarrassed. I cringe every time I think of my wide-eyed optimism the night he saved the catering event. Or how I shook his hand after the speed dating debacle and agreed to try to be buddies. Maybe he really does want to be my friend, I’d thought both times. Was I really so stupid and naïve?

I fooled myself into thinking it was bullshit, but cutie, you have to believe me. I was in love with you the whole time.

My heart lurches and tears spring to my eyes. Dammit, I miss him so much my bones ache. Can I believe him when he says he loved me the whole time? After all the lies of omission and letting me think he was someone else?

Every time I think about him pretending to be Reve, I growl. And right now is no exception. Nina’s and my mother’s gazes bounce between me and the television, obviously not sure if the sound came from me or one of Cesar Millan’s dogs.

“Is that a sign you’re ready to talk, dear?” My mother nibbles at her Danish. “I could be doing something productive, you know. Like watching this exact same program in the break room at work.”

My mom makes jokes now. Bad timing, though, because I don’t feel much like laughing. However, she did make the effort to leave her job and come see me, an effort that would have shocked me a month ago, so I attempt wordage. “Charlie . . . pulled the fire alarm while I was on a date.” My tone is bemused because it’s one of the four emotions inside my bubble. Anger, humiliation, sadness and bemusement. “Like, he’s going to be a police officer and he pulled an illegal stunt, soaked at least a hundred people . . . and then he called me on my phone to go meet up.” I shove a bite of Danish into my mouth. “I’m trying to decide if that makes him deranged or—”

“Desperately in love?”

I’m left sputtering over my mother’s comment, which gives Nina the unfortunate opportunity to jump in. “You should see the way he looks at her. All big, blue puppy dog eyes. Like he just wants to flop down in front of Ever and have his belly scratched.”

My mother turns to me. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

It’s meant as a reproof, but I can hear the hurt in her tone and it makes me feel guilty. “He didn’t want anything serious. It’s why we started . . . hanging out—”

“Fucking? You can say the word in front of me, Ever, I’m an ex-mistress.”

Nina buries her face in a pillow, her sides shaking with laughter.

“Okay, yeah. What you said. The F-word.” I’m not ready to drop bad language in front of my mother yet. Maybe someday. “You asked me to try dating seriously, so I broke it off with Charlie.”

My mother frowns. “Did you want to break it off?”

“No,” I say honestly, remembering how hard it had been to watch him go. How I’d lived in a black cloud until I’d seen him again. “We’d been seeing each other for thirty-one days when I ended things.”

Nina doesn’t pick up on the importance of the number, because she doesn’t know the rules my mother and I lived by for so long. My mother, however, knows what it means. I broke the rules for Charlie. In our world, it might as well be an admission of love. Nina seems to sense the need for the two of us to be alone, because she hops up from the couch, snagging her keys off the coffee table. “I’m going to go grab the mail. Be back in a while.”

As soon as the door closes behind my roommate, my mother gracefully turns, pointing her pressed-together knees in my direction. “Ever, I wanted you to find someone so you could be happy.” She wets her lips. “It sounds like you were doing it for me.”

“I was.” My voice cracks, but I don’t feel like I need to appear strong in front of my mother anymore, when I’m on shaky ground. I can just be honest. “I was, and it worked and you’re here now. I’ve seen you more in the last couple weeks than I have in years. The dating gave us something to . . .”

“Have in common?” Her eyes are troubled. “I think what we have in common is the desire to see you happy. And if this Charlie made you happy, I’m sorry I steered you away from him.”

“Don’t be. Things between us weren’t right back then.” An image of him dancing at Webster Hall flies through my head. Followed by him kneeling at the police memorial, hugging me in the bar, guarding my door from Nina’s ex-boyfriend. “I didn’t even know him until I broke it off,” I murmur. “Until we became friends.”

“And you are friends, aren’t you?”

I nod, because I’m finding it hard to speak around the lump in my throat. Whatever ill-conceived notions were behind Charlie becoming my friend in the first place, the truth is, we got there. We got there and it was glorious. Would he go to such extremes to be around me if he only wanted sex? No. No, that’s not Charlie. He might have made some huge mistakes, but he’s gold on the inside. I think of him watching my cab drive away after our talk at the memorial and it hits me, it hits me so hard that he was dying in that moment. He was considering chasing the cab, wasn’t he?

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “We’re friends.”

Will we end up more, though?

Nina walks back into the apartment, and I do a double take when I see the stack of identical envelopes she’s holding. “Uh.” She drops them beside me on the couch. “You’ve got mail.”

There are at least a dozen letters . . . and they’re all from Charlie.

Trading a surprised glance with my mother—who is literally bouncing with excitement—I open the letter marked “READ ME FIRST” in all caps.

With tears in my eyes, I do some quick math. He called himself my guy right at the beginning of our friendship. That had to mean he felt more for me than attraction, even then. Didn’t it? Swiping at the moisture on my cheeks, I open the next letter. And the next . . . and the next . . .