Bryn
Get dressed…
Put one foot in front of the other…
Be open to whatever comes next…
Trust that it’ll make sense in the future.
That’s my motto. But I don’t believe all of it. Because life has taught me. Loss is one of the things in life that stays. And some losses never make sense. Ever.
Still, I’m trying to get my life in order.
I figure if I stay busy enough, the pain will go away or at least recede. I’m working from nine to five, plus the weekends. My free time, I spend walking either alone, or with some of the dogs whose owners continue calling Sara, booking her to the limit.
I tell myself I won’t think of Christos every morning, and I repeat the thought at night—but obviously I’m not listening to myself. Because he’s everywhere. In House of Sass. In my email. My phone. In all of New York. In my mind and heart, the most.
“Okay, you need to start talking to me, don’t shut me out,” Becka said on the phone the other day.
“I can’t. It’s a Pandora’s box I don’t want to open.”
“Why not?”
“For fear I’ll never stop.” I groan.
“Crying? Oh, Bryn.”
That’s my life. I’ve lost my parents, and my Aunt Cecile, but I have never lost someone who is still living. There is comfort in seeing him every day at work, in knowing he breathes, but while the pain is more tolerable, it is still so acute sometimes. I cannot believe this is how things will end between us.
I’m not surprised when Becka arrives one Friday afternoon. I spot her standing at the door of my apartment when I arrive home from work, and my jaw hangs open.
“Becka?”
She drops her bag when she sees me and we hug.
I ask her what she’s doing here and why she isn’t writing—I need her book to distract me. She says, “I can write anywhere. And that’s what friends are for.”
“To join the pity party?”
“That, and also to sign them up for match.com.” At my displeased gesture, she hurries on, showing me my own image on her phone. “It’s time to get you out and dating, Bryn. The sooner you get over him the more productive and happy you will be.”
“I can’t,” I say.
She follows me inside. “Yes, you can.”
“Hey, do I know you?” Sara asks from the door to her room.
“I’m Becka,” she says.
“Oh. I’m Sara!”
“I’m also the guilty party who signed Bryn up for match.com.” Becka smirks.
“Quite genius, I approve. It’s been the most awful two weeks for her,” she goes on saying, joining us in the living room.
“Guys. STOP. The thought of being with another guy makes me want to choke.”
“You won’t choke,” Becka says.
“Except with dick—and only if you want to.” Sara nods vehemently.
They laugh but when I don’t join, Becka grabs my hand. “Your man is not yours anymore. He’s having a baby, Bryn. With someone else,” she says as gently as possible.
I curl up on the couch and look at the dating profile on Becka’s phone screen. She used a picture of me I sent her a few months ago when I arrived in New York. Thirsty to make it. Gung-ho attitude.
I’m smiling, pointing toward the sign that says WELCOME TO NEW YORK with a grin on my face and thirst in my eyes. That image makes me feel so beat up right now. But it reminds me of the girl I know, the one who survived the loss of her parents. It reminds me of how far I’ve come. “Give me that,” I whisper, peering into the profile description, which is TMI and cheesy as shit, so I fix it a bit to sound more like me. Simple, young, hoping to find love and success. What every woman wants.
Except I found both, with the same man—and yet I cannot have him.
My throat constricts remembering but I swallow it back and skim the rest of my profile.
I’m not kidding myself in thinking I’ll find some guy I’ll fall madly in love with and have babies with—in fact, I already know the only babies I want are his, and that’s not possible—but I need the distraction.
I can kid myself that I’m okay right now, but I don’t want to be just okay.
The more distractions keep me busy, the more time will help put distance between Christos and I. Eventually, I hope to one day wake up and not have to tell myself to not think of him and then proceed to think of him all day. Miss him all day.
In a few months, my heart can feel a little less heavy, and maybe I can love again. Maybe I can find the right guy for me…again. He may not be my soul mate, but he could be someone to spend a lifetime with. Like Jensen, but who likes girls.
“Okay, so how do we do this?” I peer at the picture she uploaded on my match.com profile.
“Okay.” Becka starts to show me. “Select a couple of hot or interesting-sounding guys, and give them a little wink…” she begins.
That night, I’m still scanning images of guys, trying to find at least one I can send a wink to when my phone rings.
Seeing his name on the screen and nearly having a heart attack, I answer the phone with trembling hands. “Hey.” His low, deep voice runs down my ear and straight to my stupid heart.
Christos.
“Hey,” I answer, blinking when I hear my alarm start buzzing on my nightstand.
I reach out to quiet it.
It’s 1 a.m.
Christos is calling me at 1 a.m.
My chest begins to collapse when I realize this could not be a coincidence. “Christos…what are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.
“It’s 1 a.m.,” is all he says.
“Are you not sleeping?” I ask.
“I am. Except there’s something I need to do every night at this hour.”
“What?” Set the alarm clocks?
“Call you.”
I swallow and struggle to calm my racing heart. “Really, there’s no need for you to call your business partner at 1 a.m. She is perfectly fine,” I assure.
“I know she is, partner. But I’m not.”
Silence.
He exhales. “Guess I wanted to hear your voice. Know you were doing well.”
“I’m okay,” I assure. “I’m doing great. Really. I see…I guess I see the silver lining now.”
Silence.
“Your son for you, for one. Or daughter. And for me…well, I guess I’ve realized you taught me not to be afraid to love. With your whole heart. Even if you could lose him. I’m not afraid to put myself out there again. I even signed up to match.com and may go out on a date. We’ll see,” I ramble. “But it’s all thanks to you. You are a man who is not afraid to commit to a woman, even if she isn’t the right one. You’re a good man. You were a boy that made others pale. And you’re a man that no man can compete against. You’ll always be in my life in some way. You’ll always be my first love. There’s a reason for everything,” I keep going, trying to sound positive.
“I want to be your last,” he hisses passionately, under his breath. “Your fucking only. Who’s this asshole you’re going out on a date with, huh?”
I’m momentarily speechless. Christos is jealous? I swallow and try to appease him. “Don’t act like my brother,” I chide, laughing.
He’s silent, and I don’t know what else to say. “Well, goodnight.”
“Bit?”
Silence. “I better go. Goodnight.”
My phone rings again, at 3 a.m.
I answer, my throat hurting. “Stop it. Please. The last thing I need to remember every two hours is…Stop calling me. Please.”
He curses under his breath, hissing low, “I’m trying to give you space but I cannot sit here, look at the clock, and do nothing, knowing you’re awake.”
“Christos. Please. Go make your family and leave me be. Stop playing with my emotions like this!”
“If I’m playing with yours, you have no idea what I’m doing to mine.”
At 5 a.m. I don’t answer.
At 7 a.m. I cave in and answer again. “Aaric,” I say, “if it’s true you loved me at all, don’t call me again.”
I hang up firmly and then bawl like a baby.