Didi
I decide to wait for Walker in his room. I tried explaining to him about the roses, that Zac wasn’t in the picture anymore, that I had no idea why he’d sent them, but he didn’t seem to want to hear it. He became as deaf as he’s blind, I couldn’t get a response out of him, and then José came to take him to an appointment with my dad and he left without a word—so add mute to the equation too.
My mom’s speech this morning rattles around my head. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should have thought twice about getting involved with him, with someone who can’t, even after all this time, trust me enough to tell me what’s going on in his head, who refuses to open up to me.
I sit staring at the roses, then I get up and walk into the hallway, looking for a garbage can. Sanchez walks past as I drop the bouquet into the cleaning trolley.
“Hey,” he says in alarm. “What are you doing?” He retrieves the roses. “Why you throwing them away?”
“They’re from Zac.”
Sanchez frowns at them, then starts dusting them off. “If you don’t want them, I’ll give them to Valentina.”
I shrug. She’s welcome to them.
“What’s up?” he asks, noticing my gloomy face.
I tell him about Walker’s reaction to the flowers, about my explanations, about his impenetrable silence, his refusal to talk. About my worry that I’ve taken on more than I can deal with. That maybe I should be dating a normal guy. Straightforward, romantic, easy. Like Zac. Maybe leave Walker behind. It looks like that’s what he wants, after all.
“You serious?” he asks when I’m done.
I nod.
“Dude, this is just how relationships go. You can’t quit every time it gets rough. You know what your mom says? She says that relationships go through ups and downs and it’s how you act during the down parts that matters most.”
I fold my arms over my chest. I do not need my mom’s words thrown in my face at this moment, but Sanchez ignores me. He’s on a roll.
“I know you like your romance, but that’s just surface shit. That ain’t what matters deep down.” He waves the roses in my face. “Anyone can buy you roses—don’t let these distract you. This guy Zac, you think this means anything to him?” Sanchez shakes his head. “He could afford to send you diamonds, probably. In fact, his PA or whatever you call them probably sent you these. I don’t think Zac Ridgemont was on the phone to Interflora this morning.”
Sanchez has a point. Zac did tell me that his PA does all his online shopping and orders his groceries. He seemed inordinately proud of the fact he no longer had to go to the supermarket like the rest of us mortals.
“Sure,” Sanchez goes on, hitting his stride, “Walker’s a grumpy fucking bastard most of the time, but he’s also the most stand-up guy I’ve ever known. You didn’t know him before.” He shakes his head and sighs. “He’s the real deal, Didi. You aren’t going to find a more loyal guy, a more selfless guy, no matter how hard you look. And he might be a grumpy bastard on occasion, and he might not buy you flowers, but he did buy you sushi. And a bracelet with, you know, dangly things on it. That shit’s gotta count for something.”
I sink down into a plastic chair by the nurse’s station. Sanchez sits down beside me.
“But it shouldn’t be this hard,” I mumble, thinking of the constant ups and downs with Walker, the way he keeps shutting me out, letting me in, shutting me out. I’m exhausted by it. It’s like being stuck in a revolving doorway. I just want to get through to the lobby or walk back out onto the street. I can’t keep up with the round-and-round. It’s making me dizzy.
“Didi,” Sanchez says, shaking his head softly. “Open your eyes and look around you.” His words echo my mother’s and make me wince. “Life isn’t a fucking fairy tale. You’ve seen the reality. You’re surrounded by fucking reality.”
I lower my head. With his sniper’s ability, he’s managed to hit a major nerve.
“It is a fairy tale for some people,” I mutter under my breath.
Sanchez bursts out laughing. “For who? Show me one person for who life is a fairy tale and I’ll show you a very good line in bullshit.”
“My parents. They never argue.”
“Yeah, well, that’s just freakish. Valentina and I argue all the time. Don’t mean I don’t love her. Man, I adore that woman, even when she’s busting my balls over something stupid like who ate all the guacamole or who let the kids stay up late and watch a horror movie.”
I laugh. Maybe he’s right. Maybe holding my parents up as the paradigm for a perfect relationship is stupid.
“But he keeps pushing me away,” I argue weakly.
“Don’t let him,” Sanchez says in a fierce tone that makes me flinch. “Don’t walk away. Don’t do that to him. No matter how far he pushes you. The last thing he needs is you walking away.”
Sanchez pats me on the shoulder and gets up. “And I’m not just saying that ’cause I got money riding on you two lasting until at least Christmas.”
My mouth falls open.
“Just joking with you!” he grins.
I watch him head back to his room, roses in hand, and my gaze lands on a poster on the wall by the elevator.
“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again,” this one says.
Someone—no guesses as to whom—has taken a magic marker and scratched through the last three words, scrawling instead the words, “Give the fuck up.”
I slump back in my chair. w