“I LOVE YOUR MOM,” I sank onto the couch beside Ryan. We had just dropped his mom off at the airport. And now, we were finally alone.
All day I had been floating on a cloud as I anticipated what would happen tonight after his mom left. I wanted to give my virginity to Ryan. And I knew it would be glorious.
Ryan sat beside me, staring straight ahead. “We have to talk.”
“Okay.”
He looked over at me, and there was a sadness to him. “You need to move out.”
Shock rippled through my body. “What?”
“Krista will help you look for an apartment.”
Coldness washed over my body. “You want me to move out?”
He rubbed his face with his hands. “It’s the right thing to do.”
It was a horrible moment. It felt like the entire world moved one way and my body was moving the other way. I felt off balance. Scared. Unsure and hurt. “Is it because we fooled around?”
“If you stay here, I will sleep with you.”
I looked around, unseeing anything but the haze of shock and pain in front of my eyes. “Did I do something wrong last night?”
“No, you were perfect.”
I gave a wet sniff and realized that I was crying. “You don’t want me in your life.”
“Not true.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for you.”
“Also not true.”
“Please tell me what I did wrong, Ryan. I can fix it. I promise,” I couldn’t keep the beg out of my voice.
He winced.
I tried again. “What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m doing this for you.”
“I don’t want this.”
“Zoey. You have so much living to do.”
“We can do it together.”
“We’re not even.”
I reared back as if he slapped me. “What does that mean?”
He swallowed hard. “It means, it’s not fair to hold you back.”
“From what?”
“From becoming who you need to become.”
“I’m me. This is me. I don’t understand this.” I stood up.
He grabbed my hand and stared up at me. “Trust me on this, okay?”
I felt so hurt, I almost couldn’t breathe. “I need to be alone.”
I whimpered when he dropped my hand. I staggered into my room and lay in a daze on my bed. None of this made sense. I rolled into a ball and then sobs, big horrible sobs, took over my body.
Ryan didn’t want me.
Ryan wanted me to leave.
I was alone.
Rejection tore through me, leaving a hole so big, I thought I might die from the pain.
I didn’t.
But I felt so bad I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
“SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Krista asked me. I looked around the apartment. It was sweet. There was a cute little kitchen that opened to a dining area and a spacious living room. All the windows made the place seem bright and cheery. Wide slatted hardwood floors felt smooth beneath my feet. There was a small bedroom with a spacious closet. But the best part was the claw tub.
What was Ryan doing?
When I was on the street, I would have killed to live in this apartment. Now I didn’t care. Nothing seemed to matter.
The morning after Ryan had dropped his bombshell, Krista picked me up.
One sympathetic look from her and I burst into tears.
Instead of driving me around, she drove me back to her home, tucked me onto her couch with a cup of tea and listened to me cry.
She didn’t take sides. I couldn’t have stood it if she said anything bad about Ryan, but she didn’t. She held my hand and listened as I blubbered my way through all my emotions.
“Want to move in here until we get you your own place?”
That only made me cry harder, but she went back to Ryan’s place and packed up my stuff and brought it back.
I didn’t even say goodbye.
That was two weeks ago. I threw myself into work and Frank obliged by sending me unlimited work. I cleaned Krista’s apartment until it shone and each night we drove around to different appointments, looking for a place for me to live.
Did he miss me?
I didn’t care about finding an apartment. All I cared about was keeping my mind busy enough so I could stop the cycle of pain and obsession I had swirling through me.
“What do you think?” I volleyed the question back at Krista. If she liked it, I would take it. I needed to find my own cave, so I could retreat and lick my wounds. I needed privacy to do that. This was as good as any.
She looked around. “Great location. Walking distance to lots of amenities. Close to a Skytrain station. A cute balcony and good building security. This is a safe neighborhood. I heard him say pets are welcome. And most importantly, you can afford it.”
This was true. I had gotten my first paycheck from Frank and I could put down the first and last month rent, and still have enough money left over to buy the necessities. “I think I should rent it.”
She beamed at me. “I think it’s a great decision.”
I filled out an application. Counted out my money to the resident manager and signed a rental agreement. The place would be mine on the first day of the month.
I felt nothing, but for Krista’s sake, I pretended to be excited.
“Do you want to tell Ryan?” Krista asked.
The sound of his name jabbed into me. “No thanks.”
“Okay,” her voice was soft. “Maybe another time.”
But later that night, in a moment of weakness, I sent a text.
Me: I rented an apartment today
Ryan: That’s great. I’m proud of you. What is it like?
I thought about my answer.
Me: It felt like me
Ryan: So it feels good?
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. But I swiped my phone on and off, reading and re-reading his message until I fell asleep.
“ARE you sure you don’t want to buy a desk or a couch?” Krista stood in the middle of IKEA. The place no longer comforted me. It made me miss Ryan.
“Just the bed is good for now.” I had gotten my second paycheck from Frank and now I was buying the exact same bed I had chosen for Ryan’s guest bedroom. It was my only connection to him. I added identical bedding, dishes, and bath towels. Other than that, I didn’t want to make the apartment home.
I wanted to crawl into that bed, shut my eyes and pretend I was back in his place. My home was with Ryan. This felt like some sort of awful purgatory, a place I needed to endure.
“I don’t really feel like decorating. Maybe later.”
THE DAY I MOVED IN, Krista helped me clean the apartment. The buzzer sounded.
“That must be the IKEA delivery guy.” I moved to the buzzer phone. “Hello?”
“It’s Mica.”
What? I buzzed him in and looked back at Krista. She shrugged. “The guy is persistent.”
When I opened the door, he pulled me into a big brotherly bear hug. That hug felt like salve on my wound. It didn’t heal, but it offered temporary relief. I worked to sound normal. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you kidding?” His accent was as strong as I remembered. “You think I’d let you build IKEA furniture by yourself?”
He helped me build my bed and then he insisted we order a pizza. Krista, him and I sat on my living room floor and ate.
“This place suits you,” he looked around. “But you need some furniture.”
“I’ll get there.”
Mica and Krista exchanged a look. “I know you will. And when you do, I’ll help build that furniture.”
“Thanks, Mica.” I meant it. I really valued his offer of friendship.
“I have a housewarming gift for you,” he fumbled in the pocket of his jeans, pulled out a piece of paper and offered it to me.
“What is this?”
“Open it. You’ll see.”
It was a flyer for 21 hours of Krav Maga training. “What is this?”
“It’s a self-defense course,” Mica held my gaze. “I will take the course with you. But since my schedule is so uncertain, we will get trained privately.”
Mica was trying to keep me safe. Emotionally struggling, I bowed my head over my chest. “You’ll do that with me?”
“Yeah,” he sounded gruff. “The instructor said it doesn’t matter how tiny you are. This training really works.”
I swallowed repeatedly, trying to lock down all my emotions. “Yeah sure.”
“First class is a week from tomorrow. Can you make it?”
I managed a watery smile. “I can make it.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up.”
I THOUGHT I’d be more scared by myself, in that apartment, but I slept in that bed like a baby. Every day I woke at 5 AM and worked, often clocking over 12 hours a day. I splurged on internet, so at night, I huddled in that bed and watched every sappy movie I could find on Netflix.
That bed became my entire world, except for quick trips to the kitchen, or long, lingering soaks in my tub.
I tortured myself with thoughts of Ryan. I started a fake Instagram account for the sole purpose of following his account. I spent way too much time studying all the photos I had taken of him. Tracing my finger over the lines of his face.
Had he met someone else? Had he figured out how I felt about him? Had his mom told him she didn’t approve of me? I thought she had liked me, but maybe I had misread that situation.
Was he out dating? Sleeping every night with a different puck bunny? Had he taken someone else to the Japanese restaurant, Eki? Did he kiss her like he used to kiss me?
Had something been wrong with me…when we fooled around?
Torture. My thoughts were pure torture, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from going there every chance I got.
Life dragged on. Mica and I attended our first Krav Maga class together, and I enjoyed learning how to flip him onto his back. Afterward, we went for Thai food.
When he dropped me off, he put his BMW in Park and looked at me. “You doing okay?”
I shrugged.
“He misses you, you know.”
My head whipped around. I could barely breathe. “How is he?”
“He’s a fucking mess.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s not happy either.”
That made little sense. “I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how this happened.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re handling this better than him.”
I wasn’t sure if I could believe him. “It doesn’t.”
He laughed. “He will be so jealous when I tell him I saw you.”
“You think?” My stupid, silly heart, pinged with hope.
“Oh yeah. It’ll make him crazy.”
That pulled a rare smile out of me. “See you next Thursday.”
“Can’t wait.”
ME: I wanted to tell you that I’m really angry at you.
Ryan: I know. I’m sorry.
Me: That’s all I wanted to say
Ryan: Can I call you?
I thought about that for a long time. I wanted to talk to him, but I was scared that I’d cry again and I wouldn’t stop.
Me: I’m not ready
Ryan: ok
I LASTED EXACTLY five more weeks, working from home and then suddenly, I couldn’t take it anymore. If I didn’t get some human interaction soon, I might die.
I was done licking my proverbial wounds. It was time to come out of my cave.
I showed up in Frank’s office at 7:30 AM, with my laptop and a bag full of receipts.
He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “I thought I told you I liked my space.”
“I was sick of my space.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I suppose you want to eat lunch together.”
My answer was honest. “That’d be nice.”
“Wanda takes her lunch at 12 and I cover her to answer the phones. Then I take my lunch at 1. I don’t eat out, it’s a waste of money, anyone knows that, so bring your own lunch.”
That sounded about fucking perfect. “Where do you want me to set up?”
“There’s a spare table in the file room. The chair sucks but the view is the best in the office.”
After that, every day at one, he appeared in the doorway with his coat and his lunch. He liked to sit in the park and eat his lunch and afterward walk around the lagoon.
I dared not try to discuss anything personal, but he seemed to enjoy talking about two things. Accounting and wrestling. And not Olympic wresting either. The guy was obsessed with WWE and all the players. The incongruence of this serious, brilliant-minded accountant talking about phantom bumps and spot-monkeys’ was the best part of my day.
One day, while we sat on a bench in front of the water, I broke our cardinal rule. “Are you married?”
“I was.” He shut his Tupperware container and put it back in his lunch bag.
“Oh.”
“She was the love of my life. When she got pregnant, we were over the moon. I never felt such joy in my life as I did in her presence.”
“What happened?”
“The baby was breech. We called an ambulance, and I followed behind in our car. The ambulance was t-boned by a grocery truck. She died at the scene and our child died with her.”
“Oh fuck,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“You never remarried.”
“Never wanted to. I knew I’d never find someone like her again in my life.”
That’s how I felt about Ryan. I had been given my one shot at love and it had failed. And that would be it for me. I started to cry. “Sorry.”
He glanced at me, but didn’t speak.
I got myself under control and wiped my face with my sleeve. “Does it ever stop hurting?”
“No,” he bit into his apple. “But you will get used to feeling this bad.”
