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I stare at the phone.
Type, “Hey there.” Then delete it.
Toy with the home button. Check the weather. Click back to the text. Re-read it. Type, “Hi.” Then delete. Repeat typing “Hey” or “Hi” about twenty times, deleting each, then toss the phone on the coffee table and hit the floor for some yoga. I stretch out the muscles in my back in the downward dog pose then flex each leg as I walk the dog, my favorite full body stretch.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him, yet I can’t get him out of my mind. The only time I am remotely happy is when I’m stoned sitting in the back yard. Or after dinner when a buzz from my third glass of wine kicks in. I haven’t gone to the office yet because I’m waiting for all the men to decide if they want me to. I spend my days working out in the morning, having lunch with my mom, reading, then my afternoon sitting my ass in a chair smoking weed. And, of course, the dinners.
There was Clayton, who showed up on a Tuesday for dinner with a pink bowtie. Matthew, with a bulbous belly that would allow him to play the role of Santa with ease. John, who also went to Tulane and would not drop the name game, even though we weren’t at the school at the same time. There was another guy with a thick mustache. The pornstache isn’t the way to my heart.
Oh, and Tim. He took the cake with his, “Don’t you think you’re a little old for a nose ring?”
I pushed my shoulders back so my breasts shifted upward and responded, “You have nose hairs. Don’t you think you should get those waxed?”
My mother had not been pleased. I should really try to steal Mom’s planner, because she must have gone to rotary club and penciled in every single male deemed eligible between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five on a visiting rotation. If I could nab that book, there’s no way she’d remember who she invited over, and she’d be running around the house, flapping her arms in panic mode.
My friends from high school have either moved away or have moved into another stage of life. The happily married with baby stage that means lunch consists of in-depth conversations about what the baby eats, motor development status, and area Kinder Care programs and options. And, in a lot of ways, those high school friends and I grew apart during college. The ties that bound us have loosened and frayed.
I finish stretching and stare at my phone. He’s not dating Amber. Just do it.
I pick up my phone and press his name. It rings several times, and as my thumb hovers near the red circle, he answers.
“Hello. Delilah?” His deep timbre winds me, and I suck air in through my mouth.
“Hi.”
“Did you get my email?”
“Yeah...and yeah, I did think you and Amber might be reconnecting. I didn’t want to get in the way of that, you know?”
“She and I are long done, Delilah. I should have made that clearer to you. Even if she becomes a regular part of Kara’s life, she and I have grown apart. I mean, we were never together, together. Not really.”
“Well, Kara must be so happy to have her back in her life.”
“No. No, actually, she’s gone again. Chicago.”
“Really? How’s Kara taking it?”
“Okay. She’s been quiet at random times. Spent a lot of time playing by herself or flipping through her picture books. Last night she asked me if she did something wrong. I hate that she believes any of it’s her fault.”
“Oh, my goodness. Poor baby girl. Has Amber been in touch since she left?”
“No. I don’t expect to hear from her. Not until this gig ends. When she’s on the road, I don’t usually hear from her.”
“What’s wrong with her? Doesn’t she care about her daughter?”
The sound of a door closing comes through the line. “She’s pursuing her dream. She didn’t want a daughter. I can’t get too angry at her when she wanted to put her up for adoption, and I blocked her.”
“You’re doing the right thing by seeking sole custody. I hate the idea of Kara hurting. You know, when you first told me about Amber wanting to put the baby up for adoption, I thought she was horrible. But I’ve thought about it a lot, and what she did was incredibly brave. And full of love.”
“Love? That’s how you define love?”
“Yeah, it is. Think about it. She was nineteen. Nowhere near ready to be a mom, and she had dreams. I have to believe it was a difficult decision. But she recognized she wouldn’t be a good mother. Not at that stage in her life. Not if she resented her daughter. She recognized it and sought out the best option, the best life, for her daughter. I think that qualifies as love.”
“I think she was selfish. Only putting herself first.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think self-love is all bad. We can sit here and debate if she did it for herself or for Kara, but at the end of the day, her choice was the best thing for Kara. Can you imagine what it would’ve been like if Kara grew to love her mom, and then she popped in and out of her life? She’d be a different kid right now, with a lot of emotional issues. Whether you approve or not, her choice was ultimately the best choice for Kara. I admire her for having the strength to make that decision.”
He mumbles something I can’t quite catch. Then he asks, “How’re things there?”
“Other than feeling like I’ve been stuffed inside an aquarium, it’s fine. We’re leaving for Paris tomorrow. Maybe that’s what I need. To get away.”
“Your dad must really be doing good if he can travel to Paris.”
“He’s not going. Oh, no. This is Mom’s trip. She loves Paris. It’s supposedly my welcome home trip, but it’s a thinly veiled holiday shopping excursion. It’ll be fine. My Aunt Josie’s going, and I adore her. She’s the coolest.”
“I guess your mom isn’t so concerned about your dad, then?”
It’s my turn to sigh. “She is, but right now things are tense between them. I think they need a break from each other. How’re things there?”
“I miss you.”
The desperation in his voice shouldn’t make me happy, but I smile. “Miss you too. But this is my home now. Sometimes, it’s as if I’m living that Shin’s song. Trapped in a town I outgrew so long ago. But this has always been the plan.”
“Have you started work at your dad’s company yet?”
“No. I expect to after this trip. Or maybe after Christmas.”
“What happens if your dad needs you, and all of you are in Paris?”
“We’d get a flight home.”
“I keep thinking you could stay in New York, if you wanted. You have a good job here. One you love. And if your parents need you, you can fly home.”
“It wouldn’t be the same. If I’m responsible for a staff and for multiple accounts, it wouldn’t be easy to just take off.” Folks at our ad agency plan vacations weeks out, and there’s also the matter of me only having two weeks of vacation time. “And, anyway, think about Kara. If I moved back to New York, and we got close, and then Dad took a turn for the worse and I needed to move home, I’d be the person disappearing in her life.”
“But you’d call. You wouldn’t disappear. We’d work it out. And she’d understand.”
“No, Mason. You’re missing it. I was always supposed to move back home. This whole thing sped the timeline up, that’s all.”
“We haven’t seen each other in weeks. We haven’t really given long distance a chance. You don’t answer my calls. Let me come visit. Let’s spend more time together, talk to your parents together. I have to believe we can find a solution.”
My muscles tense. “Wait. It sounds like your solution is to talk to my parents and get them to agree to me moving back to New York. Is that why you asked about talking to my parents?”
“Well, yes. I can’t imagine your parents really want you to give up your life in New York. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your life.”
“Well, shiitake. You know, I’m not sure how to respond. It sounds like your idea of a solution is for me to change my life.” And why does everyone expect me to be the one who gives everything up?
“Change? No, my idea for a solution is for you to not change your life. Not yet, at least.”
“No? You want me to come back and stay until it really will break me to uproot. That’s what you want? And for what? So we can date? You want me to change my life plans, the plans I have had for years, the agreement I have had in place with my parents for years, so we can date?” By the time I finish my diatribe, I’m shouting into the phone.
“No, no. I don’t want to make you give anything up. Dammit. Tell me when I can come visit. Too much time has passed. I need to see you. We need to have this conversation face to face.”
Of course he wants to have the conversation face to face. He can touch me, and my brain will go fuzzy. I’ll bounce around and be giddy because he’s near. And maybe he can pitch his little ol’ friends and family investment opportunity to my parents too.
“I’ll call you when I’m back from Paris.”
“Delilah, we can’t keep doing this. You’re shutting me out. You go days without responding to emails. Is that what you want? You want to shut me out? End things? Do you want to just be friends? Because I’m not sure we can keep up a friendship with the way things have been going.”
Tears stream down my face, and my whole brain goes berserk. The pain I’ve been so diligently numbing hurts so badly I struggle to breathe. And it’s his fault. I’ve been blissfully numb, and here he goes twirling up all the bloody, fricking emotions. “I’ve got to go.”