My So-Called Perfect Life

by K. A. Berg

  “What are your plans for tonight?” Danielle asks, coming back to the bar. “Want me to wait?”

  I quickly rebuff her offer, knowing I need to be alone tonight. “I’ve still got some stuff to finish up here. It’s been a long day for you. You should go get some sleep.”

  She looks disappointed. “You sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “You go. You’re tired, and I might be a while.”

  “Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Maybe,” I deflect not sure if I’ll be in any better of a mood by then. “I have to help my mom tomorrow and Saturday for the party.

  She leans over the bar for a kiss. It’s short and sweet, and she eyes me again before leaving.

  I need to get my head on straight. Danielle isn’t stupid, and she’s going to figure out something is going on, so I’d better be able to explain it when the time comes.

  “You all right?” Roxy asks as soon as the door closes behind Danielle. “I can finish up here if you want to go?”

  Pulling the rag from the wash bucket, I try to distract myself from the downward spiral of thoughts clouding my head. “No. I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”

  It’s after ten so I busy myself with emptying drink wells, restocking glasses, pulling new bottles to replace the almost empty ones.

  When I pull out the box of drink straws and pack of bar napkins, Roxy stops me. “Okay, you’re doing the servers’ side work? You haven’t refilled the bar caddies in years. Now I know you’re avoiding something. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t fucking know, Roxy.”

  She leans against the bar and tosses down her rag. “Well, something’s bothering you.”

  I grab it and start scrubbing, working out my annoyance with this shit., I should be focusing on Cohen’s West, but I can’t stop fucking trying to figure out if I’m a rebound or not.”

  She stuffs the boxes of straws and napkins back under the bar clearing a path for me to keep scrubbing. “Is that what all that shit with Evan was about?”

  “Yup. He keeps telling me to cut her loose. That it’ll never go anywhere because it’s a rebound”

  “So why are you mad at her?”

  I stop scrubbing and look over at her. “Who said I was mad?”

  She cocks her head to the side. “I could tell. You’re pissed at her because you could possibly be her rebound?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m mad because she proved Evan’s theory right when she looked like she’d rather have a root canal than go to dinner at my parents.”

  She pulls a bottle of bourbon from the wall and places a shot glass in front of me. “You’re going to need this.”

  I watch the stream leave the bottle into the short glass. “Why?”

  Her face looks almost pained as she grimaces and says, “Because for once I have to admit that Evan may have a point.”

  She’s siding with Evan? “You just said I shouldn’t take relationship advice from him less than an hour ago.”

  “That point still stands,” She nods to the shot in front of me and doesn’t say anything more until I take it. “But he isn’t wrong. You guys did get together two seconds after she left her soon-to-be-husband at the altar.”

  I slam the glass down on the bar. “That guy is an asshole.”

  “True.” She nods and pours another shot. “But she still just had her heart smashed. You’ve been there to distract her. Plus, it seems you also got a bit more than you bargained for.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You fell for her,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “You haven’t dated anyone in a long time—at least, not since I’ve known you. I don’t think you even realized it happened. You’re ready to move into serious, and she just ended serious.”

  That’s not true. “I never said I wanted something serious with her.”

  “But you’re thinking about it. It was supposed to be casual, and now, it’s something else.”

  I run my hand through my hair. “I think I just need a little space to clear my head.”

  “And that’s totally cool,” she says, patting my arm. “But just make sure you figure this all out before you fall too far for someone who isn’t ready to fall with you. I like Danielle. I know she likes you, but she just got out of a bad relationship. You need to eventually make sure you two are on the same page because this could wind up just being a rebound for her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Danielle

  The Jonas Brothers croon a sweet melody in my ear about dancing in the living room and being only human when my phone rings interrupting the private concert we were having on my walk home from work. I should be listening to *NSYNC to get myself all set for tomorrow’s real concert. But let’s face it. I know all the words to those songs.

  I press the button on my earbuds and answer the call. “Hello?”

  “Why is the screen black?” Mercy asks.

  It’s been a long day and I’m not particularly in the mood for riddles. Today was the Friday from hell. This morning started with a student crying unconsolably because her mommy left her at “stupid school.” This then turned into two more students crying, missing their mommies too. It took almost twenty-five minutes to calm them down which set the tone for a bad day. Everything was off schedule. Then during snack time, Victor Rogers threw up on the table. The custodian had to clean and disinfect everything. During centers, one student bit another. I swear, I haven’t had a day this awful since student-teaching. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask as I turn onto my block, my front stoop now visible.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  Reaching into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out my phone. “Why are you Face Timing? Miss me that much?”

  “No.” She laughs. “My phone is on the charger and my computer was within reach. So . . .”

  No shame in her laziness.

  “What’s up?”

  She gathers her hair and tosses it in a bun on the top of her head. “I wanted to know what you plan on wearing tomorrow and I wanted to make it known that I want to do one of those escape room things. Maybe Sunday if we’re up for it?”

  “I have no clue what I’m going to wear, to be honest.” I really need to figure that out. “I’m not sure what I’m doing Sunday. I haven’t heard from Ryan.”

  I haven’t heard from him since I left the bar last night, which is odd for us. We aren’t the couple who is in constant contact, but we are the kind who says good morning and check in a few times a day. So, for me to not have heard from him by four in the afternoon is not the norm.

  My “Have a Good Day” text went unanswered and then my pictures of my tacos for lunch couldn’t even get a thumbs up.

  Maybe he has just been too busy to get back to me. He’s been looking at places to lease for Cohen’s West and transitioning Roxy to full time bar manager all while still looking for new bartenders to replace her. He’ll get to me when he can. I don’t want to be one of those attention-demanding girls whose man can’t have a life outside of her.

  “Are you listening?” Mercy huffs. Oops.

  "Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”

  “Do you think it’s too late to find *NSYNC shirts? Maybe one with Justin’s face,” she repeats as she moves through her kitchen. She places her computer on the counter then opens and leans into her fridge. “And when you talk to Ryan, find out if he’s down for Sunday. I’ll grab tickets online if he is?” She calls over her shoulder as her ass fills the screen on my end.

  My front door is only steps away and I cannot wait to get inside and slip into some sweatpants and lay on the couch. “I’m sure Ryan would love it. Sounds right up his alley,” I say. “Me? I don’t care. I’ll do whatever. As far as shirts, I think we all have matching ones somewhere. I’m pretty sure I know where mine is in my closet.”

  Mercy’s eyes wide
n in recognition as she picks her head up from her search in the refrigerator and turns back to me. “I forgot about those. I think I know where mine is too. And, you don’t care about Sunday?” She sounds shocked. “Miss I-need-to-know-every-detail-of-everything doesn’t care about being locked in a room with a bunch of people and no way to get out?”

  I roll my eyes. “There’s a way out. It isn’t like they can really kidnap you.”

  She chuckles and says. “I’m sure your mom can work out some scenario where that’s what will happen.”

  “I think she’d have a heart attack if I told her I was going to one of those,” I agree heading up the steps to my building.

  Mercy flutters her eyelashes and lowers her voice to a saccharine sweet tone. “We’ll just tell her that big-strong-boyfriend of yours will save you.”

  Inside and out of the chilly October cold front that moved in last night, I dig in my bag for my keys and stop at my mailbox to grab the mail. “Ryan would probably pay the people extra to purposely scare the shit out of me.”

  She finally finishes in the fridge and shoves a slice of pizza in her mouth. “That’s gross,” I say.

  “Cold pizza is the best,” she argues around a mouthful of said cold pizza. “And, I think your confusing the escape room with those haunted houses. Did you see that one that had people signing insane waivers? Get the hell out of here with that. No, thanks--”

  A text pops up on the top of my screen as I hit the stairs.

  Ryan: Looks like they were good. Helping Mom with the party tonight and tomorrow. Then I’m going hiking Sunday. I’ll be back Monday.

  “You’re not even listening again, are you? What are you doing?” Mercy asks. “Why’d you pause me?”

  “Ryan texted me.” I switch back to FaceTime as I reach my door.

  “Is he down for the escape room?”

  “Hold on,” I tell her sticking my phone in my pocket and switching it out for my keys. I try juggling my purse, the mail, and work bag while unlocking my front door without anything slipping.

  Dropping my bags on the ground next to the door, I grab my phone from my pocket. Mercy sits on FaceTime still munching on her pizza. “No.” I pull my ear buds from my phone and drop them in my purse. “He’s going hiking Sunday.”

  “Hiking?” she asks as she places the last bite of crust into her mouth. “Isn’t it supposed to be cold all weekend?”

  “Yeah, hiking,” I say just as curious. “It’s weird. He didn’t mention anything about it yesterday.”

  “Ryan is always doing off the cuff things though, right?”

  I nod while taking off my coat and hang it. “True. It’s just he was short with his message. It wasn’t our typical texts. It was impersonal which is odd for Ryan.”

  “Did you guys get into a fight?”

  Kicking my shoes into the corner, I slip my feet into my slippers and my soles practically weep for joy feeling the soft wool surround them. “Not really. I think he’s mad that I’m skipping his family thing for the concert but that’s really unfair of him. He seemed distant last night but he told me he wasn’t mad, and we’d do it another time.”

  “He knows how much you love boy bands,” she points out. “That would be like you getting mad at him for changing plans to go to a baseball game he won tickets to.”

  “That’s what I said.” My guilty conscience still nibbles at the back of my mind. “But he seems to be putting some space between us. He’s really avoiding me until Monday?”

  “How do you know he’s avoiding you?”

  I pull the clip from my hair, freeing it. “I don’t know . . . I figured he’d at least ask if I wanted to go. He’s always dragging me to these things. He lives for pushing me out of my comfort zone.”

  “Would you have wanted to go?”

  Would I? “I don’t know. Probably not, but I would’ve if it meant something to him.”

  Mercy shrugs. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask. He could just want a few days to himself and decided to up and go.”

  That’s a high possibility. Ryan has never denied that he takes adventure as it comes, planned or spur of the moment.

  What did he tell me about his first skiing trip? It cleared his mind. Maybe he needs some alone time to do that. I can only imagine opening a second business while also running the first is stressful.

  “You don’t think it’s weird?” I ask her as I plop down on my couch, skipping slipping into my sweatpants for the time being.

  She hitches a shoulder. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m not a relationship gal. But I do think your refusal to make your relationship an official thing is weird. Like, why don’t you guys want to publicly claim each other as yours?”

  “What is this the seventeenth century?” I huff. “You can’t own someone.”

  Mercy laughs and shakes her head. “Oh yes you can. I’m pretty sure Ryan owns your body every time he touches it. But for argument’s sake, you can own your feelings. You guys have been together for over three months. When are you going to admit your boyfriend and girlfriend? You didn’t even correct me when I called him that before.”

  I kick my feet up on the coffee table. Shit! I should’ve grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen first. Oh well, I’m not getting up now. “We are two people who get along great, enjoy the other’s company, have off the charts sex, and are comfortable with the way things are. Labels do not equal feelings, Mercy.”

  A devilish grin sprawls her lips. “What are your feelings about Ryan?”

  “What are you twelve?” I roll my eyes.

  “Come on.” She pouts. “Are you in love with him? He did want you to meet the folks so maybe it’s time to get serious. I know all about your awesome sex, crazy adventures, but you keep a tight lid on the feelings part.”

  “Because I’ve been trying to avoid organizing everything into compartments,” I try to explain. “I’m just going with the flow and letting things happen as they may. Ryan made a good point. Planning out my life didn’t work too well for me. So, I’m not rushing to put labels on things and put them into files.”

  Mercy looks disappointed. “Well, that’s boring, but I guess I get it.”

  I shrug. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Danielle

  The fall air is crisp and cool as it blows between the buildings. It’s the perfect day for UGGs, a hoodie, and a pumpkin spice latte as Ryan and I walk hand in hand through the crowds of people traversing the city. He took this afternoon off, giving us a chance to get out together since school is closed for Yom Kippur.

  Ryan is physically present next to me, but something’s off with him. We’ve been together long enough for me to be able to read his moods. Things are as usual as we walk around the block near his place. Conversation flows fine, body language is good, but at the same time, it’s like his heart and part of his mind are somewhere else.

  It’s as if he’s . . . distracted. Off somewhere in his mind. It almost seems like a whole silent thought process is happening with him while we’re together, and he is keeping it hidden from me, which strikes me as odd. He’s always been straightforward with me about how things are going. He’s always been interested in what’s going on with me.

  It’s been like this since the night Mercy won the concert tickets. Despite my best efforts to enjoy the concert, in the back of my mind, I felt like it was driving a wedge between the two of us. Yes, sure, he asked about the concert and the rest of my weekend, but it’s like there’s a part of him that’s not connecting with what I’m telling him. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but it’s as if he’s just going through the motions as opposed to … I don’t know … absorbing what I’m saying.

  We turn left down Wilshire and come across a park. I motion to the benches facing the pond. “Can we sit?”

  “Sure,” he says, his voice flat.

  I lead him to the bench farthest from the path, the one with the most privacy. When we sit, our fingers are st
ill entwined, so I pull our joined hands into my lap.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask. “You seem a bit off.”

  His body stiffens, and I feel the pulse of something not good start beating between us. He doesn’t answer right away. He stares off into the pond, watching the fountain splash in the center.

  He finally breaks the silence, and his tone is hollow. “Do you think about the future?”

  The question throws me off. Ryan and I don’t typically live in the future. We’ve been the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type. Ryan has been instilling a sense of spontaneity in me, teaching me to live in the moment. He’s pushed me to be free and treasure the little moments, stealing them as they present themselves, even if it’s not in the plan. The future has yet to come up for us.

  I do my best to keep an even voice in spite of the odd question. “I do.”

  His head remains forward, eyes still focused on the water. “What do you see?” His voice is still eerily detached.

  I collect my thoughts as I stare off into the autumn foliage of the trees, picturing what I want in my future. “I see happiness. A great life with people I love. Making the most of every day. I picture building a life, created from love and everything that grows from it.”

  He nods. “I see happiness too. A family with the love of my life. Children. Traditions. Stability.”

  This I know. Ryan has never had a serious relationship. He’s never really been on the lookout for one. He’s always been seen as a good time and noncommittal. I can’t say I didn’t think those things about him when I first met him. Not that I was thinking about getting a commitment from him at the time. My heart was in a million pieces. I definitely thought of him as an experience though. I can’t deny that.

  “Sometimes, we don’t see things until we’re ready for them.”

  He turns, finally looking at me. The way he seems to stare deep into my soul rattles me to the core. “What if they aren’t ready for us?”