Chapter Nine
Sans Coffee
With no calls and no texts from Double, Thursday and Friday were a complete and utter bore. By Saturday morning, he still hadn’t made a peep and his silence mutated me from sad and lonely to gloomy and grouchy. Jen planned a very packed birthday celebration, but I couldn’t find the energy to be happy. Remaining under my blankets, dressed in sweatpants, and sulking all day about Mr. Avoidance was more appealing than taking a shower and getting dolled up for a full day of drinking and potentially thinking even more about how coffeeless I was.
Men suck.
I rolled to my side and stared at the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by in slow motion, prolonging the misery of waiting for his call or text. My cellphone sat on the night table, quiet as ever. No blinking lights or notification beeps. A part of me hoped he messaged me sometime throughout the night. I was afraid to pick up the phone because it would confirm he didn’t text. At least if I didn’t look at it, the possibility he messaged me still existed and somehow that made me feel better. Perhaps my phone was glitchy and the lack of the blinking blue light, which usually tells me a message is pending, wasn’t working. Maybe I had lost reception for no effing reason.
Maybe…
Maybe I’ve hit a completely new low level of sad, lonely person.
For a brief moment, the sunrays of reason broke through the doomsday clouds that smudged out my common sense. I managed to roll from under my covers and sat up in bed. If I could only manage to go a day or at least a couple of hours without thinking about him, I might have the energy to go about my day without feeling so emotionally and psychologically exhausted.
Looking for some orange juice, I strolled into the kitchen and found Marko whizzing around the stove. He drove down from Boston on Friday night to spend the weekend with us and now appeared to be our morning chef. There were broken egg shells on the counter and an open milk carton sat by the sink. Flour clouds hung in the air, some coated his favorite maroon Boston University T-shirt, and there was a pot or pan on all four stovetop burners.
Marko is a walking cliché—tall, dark, and handsome. With a Cuban mother and an Irish father, the genetic combination gave him an exotic look. He reflected most of his mother’s Latin features. The emerald-colored eyes he inherited from his father. His dark hair was wavy and a bit long on the sides and back. His skin was flawless and olive toned. If he were any better looking, he probably wouldn’t be from this world.
“Morning, Marko.”
“Why are you up so early?”
“It’s seven in the morning. It’s hardly early,” I replied, taking a gulp of my pulpy OJ.
“It’s Saturday,” he reminded me as he flipped a flour patty over the griddle.
“It’s Jen’s birthday Saturday,” I reminded him as well.
“Oh yes, you guys are going out for birthday…”
“Manis and pedis. And yes, your girlfriend doesn’t believe in sleeping in on her birthday.”
“I’m making my famous pancakes, want some?” he asked, pointing the nonstick spatula toward a stack of perfectly round and fluffy cakes.
“Famous, huh?”
“Oh, you doubt me?” He plopped a freshly warm, cooked pancake on a dish, dabbed on some butter, and poured real Vermont maple syrup very gingerly. “Please, take a bite.”
The gooey and sweet pancake hit the spot. The touch of vanilla and cinnamon played with my taste buds. He made a mean pancake. “Okay, Marko, you are going to make my friend a very happy wife one day. I’ll place an order of your famous pancakes with scrambled eggs, bacon, and some fresh fruit.”
“I didn’t know this was full service.”
“If you’re going to offer breakfast, then you better be prepared to serve breakfast. Now, chop-chop, I’m starving.”
“You’re sure you’re not the birthday queen this morning?”
“Speaking of birthday queens, where is my BFF?
“Sleeping,” he said as he continued to cook breakfast.
“Really? I hope she didn’t make me get up while she sleeps and has pancakes in bed.”
“It’s her birthday,” Marko said, laughing.
“And I’m going to give her a birthday wake-up.”
****
At the spa later that morning—my birthday gift to Jen—I failed to concentrate on my e-book. The pedicure was a much-needed small indulgence and the pedicurist was doing a fabulous job, but I couldn’t relax.
Why hasn’t he called me?
Jen, who was flipping through her latest gossip magazine, said, “Sara, can you believe it? Tanya Swimmer broke up with her boyfriend.”
“This is a shocker to you, why? She changes boyfriends like I change underwear.” I pretended to read my book and didn’t even bother to look up.
“Why are you such a sourpuss today? Can’t you make an effort to be happy on my birthday?”
Her words made me snap my gaze up at her. I guess I was being a bitch. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Sucking in a deep breath, I said, “So, who else did you invite out with us tonight?”
“Promise you won’t get upset?”
“Why would I get upset?”
“Lisa called me last week and told me she was going to be in town, so…”
At the mention of Lisa, my eyes bulged and my hands trembled, causing my e-reader to slip through my fingers, the loud thud cutting off Jen mid-sentence. The device nearly missed landing inside my dirty pedicure water. “Lisa…” I whispered, hoping I’d simply misheard or perhaps Jen didn’t mean Lisa Buckley, Josh’s little sister.
Jen nodded, confirming my fear.
“Why the hell would you invite Josh’s sister out with us?”
With a fidgety hand, Jen twirled one of her blonde curls around her finger. “We haven’t seen her in a while and I thought…I thought it would be nice to hang out.” The frown between her eyes told me she knew I was going to explode.
My eyeballs were close to popping out of their sockets. I didn’t even want to finish my pedicure.
“I don’t understand why you are so upset about this,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulders.
Her annoyance at my reaction was infuriating. “Really? I guess as my best friend you wouldn’t understand why I don’t care to hang out with my ex’s sister. Especially after the way things ended with Josh.”
“Sara, that was a long time ago, and we used to be really close with her. I don’t understand what the big deal is. She’s not Josh.”
“No. But she’s his little sister,” I continued, “and I’m sure she talks to him. I don’t want her knowing my business. I don’t want him knowing my business.”
Jen surveyed me, waiting for more.
“When he left, everyone thought I was going to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. I was miserable and devastated. He left me right after my mom died to go chase his dream, and you know what? Last time I heard, he was still living his dream—stalking rhinos on the savannah or some crap, so excuse me if I’m not jumping at the opportunity to a) get reports on his adventures from his little sister, and b) let him know my life pretty much still sucks.” I paused. “My dreams…my dreams never happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why did you wait until now to tell me?”
“I wasn’t thinking. I’ll cancel.”
“No, you are not cancelling anything,” I told her. “I’m being a big baby about this, and it’s your birthday. Since you want her there…I’ll just suck it up.”
“I should have known better.”
“It’s fine. Really.” I turned from her and stared out the window, watching as the city went on with its life.
“What’s really bothering you?” she asked.
I turned to her and showed her my phone. “No calls. No texts.”
“Still thinking about that jerk?”
“Does this sort of thing really happen to people?”
“Love at first sight? Marko and I knew each other for a while before we started dating. I’m not the right person to ask.”
“I wouldn’t call it love. Love is…more. I barely know him. This feeling, though, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Why don’t you text him?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Why not?”
“He’s going to think I’m desperate.”
“And you’re not?” she asked, but it felt more like an accusation, and her hiked up eyebrow didn’t help.
“I may be desperate, but I’m certainly not that desperate. If he wants a piece of this,” I pointed to my body, “he’s going to have to make the first move.”
“Didn’t he already make the first move? I recall you swooning over the dress and fancy restaurant.”
“You’re his defense attorney now?”
“Just saying. If you want something you have to make it happen.” She stood up from her chair and waddled over to the manicure table with her toes spread. “Can we please stop talking about Mr. Wonderful for a bit and focus on my birthday? Where’re you taking me for lunch?”
****
A few hours later, I stood in front of my closet, staring blankly at my clothes. I couldn’t decide what I was going to wear. I was still pissed at Double for not calling me since Wednesday. I was left with little choice but to deal with my anger issues by wearing something slutty and perhaps tearing it up on the dance floor with a sweaty, hunky stranger. Problem was, I didn’t really own anything slutty.
A shimmery black, loose fitting dress would have to do. It was off the shoulders and came up mid-thigh. I styled my hair into long wavy curls and dotted on some dark eye-shadow and red lipstick. After strapping on a pair of my highest heeled sandals, I looked at myself in my floor-length mirror and grimaced. Not what I’d hoped for in terms of slutty.
Oh, well.
As I walked through a mist of perfume, the intercom in the living room buzzed, announcing the arrival of Jen’s guests along with the moment I was dreading—seeing Lisa. I smeared a fake smile on my face and trotted out to greet them.
After so many years, seeing Josh’s little sister felt awkward, especially when I tried to act like it wasn’t. She hurried up to give me one of those overly affectionate fake hugs with double-cheek-kiss combos. “Sara, you look fabulous, girl. What have you been up to?”
I fought rolling my eyes. “Oh, you know, working…stuff.”
“Can you believe it’s been like, four years, right? You and my brother had just broken up.”
“Yeah, I’m not really keeping count,” I responded with a short smile that I’m sure never reached my eyes.
I regretted not letting Jen cancel on her. Of course, she still looked gorgeous. She could be Josh’s twin—big blue eyes, thick blonde hair, sun kissed skin, and a sprinkling of freckles adorning her cheekbones. She wore some hot, red skimpy dress that perfectly hugged her outrageous curves, making me feel less slutty and a little flatter and formal.
We did the pleasantries. She brought two friends with her, Derrick and Taylor. They looked like cutouts from a fashion catalogue. They barely talked and couldn’t look more disinterested to be there if they tried. I didn’t know if they even spoke English for that matter. Jen’s med school friends arrived also. They appeared tired and worn, but eager for a night out. We sang happy birthday and ate some of the tres leches cake Marko brought for Jen.
After I downed about four glasses of champagne, Jen brought me to her bedroom and showed me the beautiful charm bracelet Marko bought her. She couldn’t stop talking about all the charms and what each represented.
So much for not being impressed by fancy gifts.
I tuned her out. She was so ecstatic and dripping with happiness, I couldn’t stand her. It wasn’t her fault, and I was a shitty friend for feeling that way, but the happier she was, the sadder I felt. Marko and Jen were deeply in love, and tonight I couldn’t stand it. On a different night, I’d be jumping up and down with her, but at the moment, I struggled not to throw up.
When the champagne hit me, my blood pulsed with tingly bubbles, the buzz reaching my brain. I thanked the heavens for the mental relief. My inner vixen slowly emerged, numbing me into the shadows of my subconscious. I even flirted with Taylor. Apparently, he did speak English, and I giggled at everything he said. Well, my vixen did, the real me had no idea what was so funny.
At around eleven, we headed to the club in a couple of cabs. Jen, Marko, and I took off in one, the rest of the group tailed behind us.
Noticing my tipsy spirits, but barely looking at me, Jen crossed her arms and chastised me, “A little too much champagne?”
“Oh, you can never have too much champagne,” I said, giggling.
Marko sat between us and looked back and forth, tracking our conversation.
“Sara, we haven’t even arrived at the club and you’re wasted,” she said, brimming with anger and shaking her head.
I frowned at her. “What’s with you? I’m having fun. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Her blue eyes darkened with distaste. “I don’t even recognize you.”
I leaned over Marko to stare at her more closely, disbelief making my face tense. “Seriously, Jen? What the heck does that even mean?”
She didn’t blink. “You should cool it with the alcohol.”
I lurched back into my seat. “Am I embarrassing you in front of your med friends?”
“Girls, is this really the time for this?” Marko tried to play peacemaker.
I turned from them both and stared out the window of our cab, watching the blur of city lights as we drove through Manhattan. Then I turned back to her. She was right. This wasn’t me. “I’m sorry. I drank a bit much today. Just happy to be out, and not worrying about anything.”
“I know, hon.”
While my vixen tried to slander my reputation, I tried desperately hard not to think about Tom. Yet, all I could do was wish I could see him, that he’d come find me and rescue me from this sideshow. At the same time, I was still miffed at him for making me feel this way. Seize the day, Jen said earlier today. My vixen heard my thoughts all too quickly and I padded away on my phone before I could stop her.