After I had breakfast I drank some tea. I had decided not to do coffee again for reasons that are not important. It felt nice, it was warm, and sweet, and earthy. It helped me refocus on what needed to be done, and that was I was a little behind.
I had another two months left, but I had also only painted ten pieces, which meant if I didn't pick up the pace, I could be missing my deadline. I don't want to imply it was Ellen's fault because it wasn't, it was mine. But spending a lot of time with her meant I had less time to paint, and ultimately, painting had to be priority N°1.
It was a little past midday. I was finishing a piece and feeling very productive when a loud ring in my apartment made me flinch a little. I stood up covered in paint and however I could, I pressed the door buzzer with my pinky.
"Yeah?"
"Miss Burton-Brenan? Mr. Keane's here."
"Let him in. Thanks, Larry."
"Sure thing, ma'am."
I walked into the kitchen and opened the tab to run water through my hands and up to my elbows. The painting that had already dried stuck, but the remainings went down the drain easily. I heard the doorbell ring, I grabbed a handtowel, dried my hands up, and went to open the door for Scott.
He had this big, radiant smile and two bags of what could only be takeaway. "Want some sushi?"
God I love that guy. He knows my weaknesses so well. I nodded and he walked inside, placing the bags on the kitchen counter and turning around to hug me.
"Happy birthday," he murmured and ruined it by adding. "You're thirty-three now."
"Shut up, you're thirty-four."
"Yeah, but in this very equalitarian society, you have an expiration date. I do not... so long as I have money," he joked.
"No, darling. I'm like wine, I get better with age."
He laughed, and said, "Amen, sister."
I grabbed two plates and started placing the sushi on them. He bought five rolls, Five whole rolls. They didn't fit on the plates! I decided to save two rolls for later, maybe if I didn't feel like having dinner.
We sat on the floor since I was covered in paint and, well, Scott felt bad about eating on the table while I ate on the floor. There was something comfortable about eating on the floor and laughing and having dumb, mindless conversations. 'Did you notice that when you are in a rush, everyone starts walking slower?', 'There was this really cute dog, and then it tried to hump me.'
On that day, however, the topic of conversation was of course:
"How's your birthday so far?"
"Fine. Mom and Connor already wrote. Richard also wrote."
"What about Dumont? I thought you guys had a thing going."
"She doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way."
"Why?"
"'Cause I don't want to get too personal. Too... intimate."
"I don't think that's up to you. I mean, shouldn't the both of you decide what it is that you're doing?"
I sighed. "I suppose. But it's my birthday. I don't want to have to deal with that." He stayed quiet for a moment. He was debating himself whether or not to ask, so instead, I answered for him. "She hasn't, and she won't."
"You don't know that."
"I do. She's too awkward to know how to deal with wishing me a happy birthday, so instead of sending a text and making things worse, she'll probably skip it altogether."
"Do you want her to? Write, I mean."
"God, I don't know. What could she possibly say? 'Hey, I still don't love you, I still don't want you and every day we're not together is a constant reminder of that... but happy birthday!' Yeah, I guess that means I don't want her to."
"That's not true."
"What?"
"That she doesn't love you. That's not true."
"Has she said she loves me?"
"Well, no..."
"Has she talked about missing me?"
"No, but..."
"Has she in any way, shape, or form, acted as she regrets it?"
Scott sighed and declared, "No."
"Then don't give me false hope, Scott. It's cruel."
"It's not false hope. She's going through a lot right now, so you can't assume that because she's. an emotionally distant prick it means she... doesn't love... you." I rose my brow as he grinned at himself. "Yeah, I got what I did there. You're right."
"See? If you have to dwell on whether or not someone loves you, they probably don't."
Scott shook his head and opened his mouth. It was weird. It was like he had full purpose in saying something that he wasn't supposed to say. Like it ate at him to just shut his mouth and say nothing to defend his friend, but he knew he had to. There was very little he could say when she herself wouldn't even call.
We finished eating and he decided to go in a different direction. "I still think it'd be nice if you told Dumont. I mean, don't get me wrong, I really don't like her for you, but she seems to make you happy, you know? I think it's fair to give her a chance."
I didn't reply, I just let that thought wander about in my head. I wasn't going to. I really wasn't going to, but then Scott got up and went to the bathroom to wash his hands and look at his hair. You can tell when he's going out with Caroline because he becomes very indecisive, insecure, even.
While he was gone, his phone, which for some reason he always leaves on the table he's eating at, on in this case the floor, buzzed. It was looking up, so I couldn't stop myself from looking at the name on the screen.
New text from Ry:
I couldn't help myself. I mean, what would you have done? I picked up the phone and found out that good old Scott does not have his screen blocked. Nop, no code, no password, no fingerprint. I just had to swipe up to open the text.
The first contact, indirect as it may have been, with my wife in over six months, was:
From Ry, 12:55 pm
Well it depends. Is the money wearing a tux?
I shouldn't have been surprised. They talk about the most ridiculous shit ever. Once I caught her talking to him about how Attack on Titan had the worse protagonist ever, and how vanilla was a good ice cream flavor only if you put chocolate sauce on it, and whether or not almonds are a seed or a nut. That was a very intense discussion actually. Something along the lines of "When did you get so dumb! Seeds! They are seeds! Macadamias are nuts!", "Oh, don't you get me started on macadamias!"
I smiled at the comment. Apparently, they were discussing if Scott should use a monkey as a ring bearer when he married, you guessed it; Caroline Rosen. Man, he was head over heels for that woman.
I told myself to place that phone down. Just put it down, and leave it as is. Watching one of her texts actually made me feel a bit better, like knowing she still existed made things more tolerable. So everything I had to do was put the phone down.
Can you guess if I did it? You know me so well. No, I didn't. Can you guess if that was a mistake? Of course it was a fucking mistake!
I swiped scrolling up without looking at a bunch of conversations they had, because oh boy, do they talk. And then, I saw my name and I stopped scrolling. It was from the date I arrived in New York. The message read:
Me: Faye just arrived. I'm taking her to her apartment.
Ry: Good.
Me: She's kinda talking about wanting to date, an experiment, and fool around.
She took a few moments, exactly seven minutes by the app's time, to reply.
Ry: Yeah, I imagined she would.
Me: ...
Me: That's it?
Me: You're not gonna say anything?
Ry: Like what?
Me: Doesn't it bother you that YOUR woman is gonna be going out and kissing and SLEEPING with other people?
Ry: She's not a thing, Scott.
Me: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!
Ry: Look, if she wants to go out and fool around, that's her call. It's none of my business.
That hurt. That hurt in ways I didn't understand, and wouldn't bother to understand. How could I be so stupid? Why would I think she'd care? Why would I think she'd be jealous, and angry, or sad? How could she when both things require caring about someone and... well.
I was glad that Scott conveyed what I would've said to her had I got the chance.
Me: None of your business? Are you screwing with me? There's no way that you're fine with this.
Ry: I don't know what you want me to say.
Me: That you care!!! That it makes you feel something! That at some level, it worries you that she could meet someone and fall in love!
Me: I don't know. Maybe I just want you to act like she fucking meant something to you!!!!!!
She took another few minutes before texting:
Ry: Can we talk about something else, please?
Me: Ugh whatever, I'll talk to you tomorrow.
I felt my breathing pick up the pace, I felt my chest beginning to hurt, my hands beginning to shake and my ears beginning to buzz. I was feeling nauseous; like the walls were closing in on me. I ran towards the bathroom, just as Scott was exiting and I puked on the toilet.
"Faye!" he yelled with concern. "What's wrong, are you okay? Oh, God. Don't tell me it was the sushi."
I sat on the floor trembling, but I refused to cry. I looked up and started talking to myself inside my head. I can do this. I know what to do.
Where am I? I'm in the bathroom. The tiles are cold and it smells like Scott's cologne. There's a stain on the tile next to the shower. I think it's from the night Ellen and I got into the shower together because I'd spilled some paint on the floor and she got some on her when she tried to help clean up. I'm wearing an old Elvis t-shirt that belonged to my dad. I don't have my watch on my wrist. I left it on the nightstand so it wouldn't get paint on it. That's it. Just breath.
Scott squatted down and hugged me. I finally spoke "No, it-it wasn't the sushi. I think I had a panic attack."
"You have those often?"
"No, I've never had one before."
"Why did you have one now?"
"Don't know. It's okay. I'm okay now," I said but I was shaking. "Scott, could you please leave? I need to be alone."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. If I need anything, I'll call you."
"Make sure you do, alright?"
We both stood up, Scott picked his things up and walked towards the door. He didn't leave without turning around with a marked concerned expression on his face. I smiled sadly to try and calm him down, but I don't think it worked.
After he left, I took my clothes off, rolled down the curtains, and got under the covers. The fabric felt warm and comfortable against my skin. I needed to take a nap. I would take a nap and everything would feel a tiny bit less painful. That's it, just sleep.
While I lay in bed, I couldn't help but think that she's always been the one person who makes me cry the most. And yeah, of course, I'm a huge cry baby, but there was this one time that was imprinted inside my mind. The first time I ever cried for anyone. The first time I ever felt real pain.
I was fourteen, and it was also my birthday.
Back then, she had started dating this goofy-looking guy, whom I hated. What do you want from me? I've been in love with her since I'm ten and I've hated everyone she's ever dated... with maybe one exception and we all know who that exception is.
Anyway, we had made plans for my birthday. We were supposed to go to the mall, eat ice cream, and then a slumber party.
She never arrived.
This guy, whose name was... Milo, I think, had taken her to the Mall instead, and they spent the day together.
It was an innocent mistake. Sort of. Milo made plans for 'Friday night', she accepted without noticing that was my birthday. When she realized she thought she could hang out with him in the afternoon, and we could spend the night together. She seemed to forget that Milo said 'Friday night'. So he allowed her to be a good friend to me until past nine.
She arrived at my house and, well, you can imagine we had a fight. A huge fight. We had never fought like that. I don't think either of us had ever fought with anyone as intensely and we were fighting at that moment. My parents had to come downstairs and ask what all the screaming was about. I guess we both showed our very bad tempers from a very early age.
"You ruined my birthday!" I yelled as my parents stood by the stairs.
"I'm here now, aren't I? Doesn't that matter? We can still have a good night."
"We were supposed to have the whole day together, but you had to choose your little boyfriend over me, didn't you! I stayed here..." I said, not yelling anymore. This time I was whispering. "I waited for you. And you didn't show up."
"We got caught up. It's not my fault. I'm here now."
I shook my head. "Too little, too late." I ran upstairs and past my parents into my room.
My parents looked at her trying their hardest not to get involved in what they would call 'girl issues'. How do you intervene in a fight between two fourteen-year-old girls?
She left and I stayed in my room the whole night feeling like shit. I wasn't angry because of what she'd done. that wasn't it. I was angry because she hurt me, and she didn't even seem to care. She seemed more focus on explaining to me why what she'd done was okay, and I really didn't have a right to feel like this.
I had never felt more invalidated. Like what I felt was meaningless. Like I myself didn't matter.
She tried calling on Saturday but I refused to speak to her, so she was forced to leave messages with my dad. On Sunday, she couldn't take it anymore and went to see me, but I didn't want to see her, so my dad spoke with her. They always had this bond. I think my dad saw her just as much as his daughter as I was.
"I just need to talk to her. It wasn't my intention to skip her birthday. I need her to understand that-"
"Listen, kiddo," my dad said. "I think it's you who doesn't understand, so I'm going to give you a piece of advice that I hope will last you a lifetime. When it comes to people's feelings, intentions are worth squat. You hurt her. She was so excited that day because she kept saying you were coming, she wouldn't shut up about it and it broke my heart when you left her down and God knows that if I didn't love you as my own and I didn't think you were a good kid, I wouldn't let you near my child ever again. You. hurt. her. She's feeling sad, like you don't care about her."
"But I do!"
"Then show it."
"... how?"
"Her birthday was very important to her, and that's the only reason you need for it to be important to you. So apologize, no excuses, no buts, just say 'I'm sorry' and mean it, and promise to never do it again. And for the life of you, NEVER DO IT AGAIN."
"Okay..." she said, and from what I understand she left.
After that day, she never ever, invalidated my feelings again. Not until she left for good, that is.
We didn't speak for another week. She didn't try to speak to me, but at the same time, she remained cordial. On Friday afternoon though, she showed up at my house, with sleeping bags, and chocolates and asked in a polite manner that made me sigh, if it wasn't much of an imposition, could I please give her another chance. She said something along the lines of "Just give me a second chance. I promise I won't need a third one."
My heart melted.
We went upstairs, she placed her things on the floor and sat next to me on my bed.
"I'm sorry. I know how much it meant to you and there's no excuse. I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry that I hurt you. I never want to hurt you." she smiled and said, "It really hurts to hurt you."
I smiled. "I'm glad, I was miserable."
"I know, right?! Let's never do that again. Let's never fight again." Ha! Sure thing you idiots. Sure you'll never EVER fight again. God, kids are so dumb.
"So long as you promise not to leave me hanging 'cause of your boyfriend again."
"Yeah, about that... it didn't work out."
"Oh, my God, Riley! You've been dating for like a week!"
"Two, actually. He's nice but... I like him more as a friend."
"How did he take it?"
"He cried. He acted like he wasn't and that made it worse... I felt really bad."
I smiled and I hugged her. I was so happy we'd made up. As I pushed away, she held my hands and looked at me with those sweet puppy eyes.
If you ask her, she'll tell you our first kiss was two and a half years after that day, near the beach, under the rain. It wasn't. I mean, ten years old, people. Since I'm ten years old! You are absolutely nuts if you think I was gonna wait seven years to kiss her.
Maybe it was because we'd just made up and I'd really missed her, maybe it was because of how soft her hands were, or maybe, maybe I just couldn't help myself. I leaned in slowly and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, a teenager's kiss. Just a peck on the lips and call it a day. But the thing was, she didn't pull away, she didn't try to move. Instead, she kissed me back and I felt like flying.
We kissed for what could've been ten seconds, and then she pushed away.
I wanted to tell her what I felt. That I loved her. Love, love. Adult love. But she just stood up and asked what I wanted to play first. She spoke fast and with very short breaths, like she was afraid if she stopped talking, I would bring it up and she did not want to do that. So I respected it, and said I wanted to play Monopoly.
When we went to bed, we didn't fall asleep immediately, instead, we laid down facing each other. Just staring, without saying a word. A physical conversation of what had happened, and how we'd never talk about it again.