My So-Called Perfect Life

by K. A. Berg

  Surprisingly, the answer to that question comes without much thought. “Then, signs will tell you. Like a forgotten phone.”

  Scott’s forgotten phone was the only thing that let me know marriage wasn’t ready for me. Without it, I would’ve lived a miserable life with nothing but heartbreak and a husband who didn’t love or respect me.

  Ryan is quiet, his gaze now staring off into the space somewhere behind me. “Like a niggling feeling in the back of your mind?”

  Deep down, I feel this conversation isn’t leading somewhere good. Ryan is clearly trying to deal with something he is second-guessing. “Possibly. What’s going on? Are you rethinking the new bar?”

  He sighs. “No, I’m talking”—he pauses as his eyes find mine—“about us.”

  I’m not sure I understand what he’s saying. Things between us are good, outside of whatever is going on now. “Us?”

  “Yes,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you. I wasn’t looking for you. But the moment I laid eyes on you and your swollen punching hand, there was just something different in the air. I didn’t see the future in anything more than abstract until I met you. You’ve already planned out a whole future with another man, and I doubt you’ve started thinking about it again—”

  “You don’t know that,” I interrupt him, pulling my hand out of his as a feeling of dread envelops me like a thick cloud of smog.

  “Either way,” he continues, “you still have a lot to figure out. You deserve the right to be able to do so. I just can’t be strung along for the ride.”

  A bit of anger rises in my gut. “I haven’t been stringing you along on anything, Ryan.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t mean it in that sense, Danielle. I mean that you met me the day after your world, your future, shattered. I don’t want to be the replacement guy for the life you planned with Scott. I also don’t want to be the guy who helps you pick up the pieces, only for you to be whole again for someone else. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I could be nothing more than a rebound for you. A summer fling to cover the hurt from what Scott did to you. A way to pass time until you’re ready to move on. Whatever you want to call it.”

  I’m dumbfounded. I had no idea he felt this way. “Ryan, if all you were was a rebound, I never would’ve agreed to go out with you. Where are you getting this from? Please tell me Evan isn’t brainwashing you against me.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I was already questioning what we are before Evan added his two cents. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve never done this before. You didn’t push for anything more, so I didn’t know if I was supposed ask or just let it be. But then Evan mentioned this just being a rebound and everything just went spiraling.”

  Freaking Evan. He isn’t the president of my fan club, but did he have to sabotage my relationship?

  “Evan? You’re listening to Evan? I know he’s your friend, but he’s as deep as the shallow end of the kiddie pool. My students are more mature than he is. Evan is the last person in the world you should take relationship advice from.”

  “Just listen, please.” Ryan takes my hand back in his. “Things were good between us, so I figured I would just leave well enough alone. It was working for us and I was happy.”

  My heart hammers against my chest as if it’s screaming, “No don’t let him do this.” Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I fight it down. “And you’re not happy now?”

  “I’m not unhappy either.” One of the tears slips down my cheeks and he brushes it away with a thumb. “I just think we’re in different places. Which leads to me feeling a bit out of control. I don’t like feeling jealous and stressed. I’m not that guy, Danielle. I’m not into drama. I don’t like questioning things. And that’s what I’m doing because I feel like you need time to go out and be yourself. Like, the other night at the bar, when it looked like you were enjoying the attention of the guys you were with. Or the first night I saw you with Luke, and I felt threatened. I didn’t like the way you seemed to be so comfortable with him or the way he looked at you like you made the sun rise for him every morning.”

  “Stop,” I tell him needing to take that idea off the table right now. I’m not interested in Luke or Brandon. “Don’t go any further yet. Luke is one hundred percent gay and has zero interest in girls. The other man we were talking with, that was his boyfriend, who is also not into women. I was so comfortable with them because they are nice people. I was enjoying their attention because they were telling me about a mishap in the dog park that resulted in Luke falling on his ass in a tangle of dog leashes. There was no sexual attraction or tension or interest.”

  Hurt is growing deeper and deeper fighting with the sadness in my chest.

  “That’s not the issue, Dani Girl,” he rebuts. “You should be able to talk to whomever you want without me wanting to Hulk smash their faces. The insecurity . . . this feeling . . . that’s the problem. Not you.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. “Are you really giving me the, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ speech right now?”

  “No,” he emphatically denies. He pulls me closer to him, but I wish he wouldn’t. Don’t pull me in before you hurt me. “What I’m trying to tell you is that if I let myself feel—if I give how I’m beginning to feel about you a name, I know it’s love. I could fall hopelessly in love with you. But I don’t want to acknowledge that until you’ve had the time to figure out if you can love me for more than the guy who helped you put your life back together. I don’t want to be the temporary guy with you. This whole thing made me realize that you didn’t go and see what fish were out in the sea, like you’d said that first time in the bar. So, I got to thinking that you need to do that.”

  He could fall hopelessly in love with me? The words whirl through my head like a cyclone. The idea of Ryan loving me is amazing. He is wonderful, smart, kind, thoughtful, and everything a woman would treasure in a man. But he doesn’t want to love me?

  Anger fires quickly in my gut. I care about this man. He means more to me than he knows. I have never tried to make him feel like he wasn’t good enough or worth it. “When have I ever made you feel temporary?”

  “I’m not saying that you have,” he says with frustration in his voice. “I don’t think I’m explaining myself the best, but deep down, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to commit myself to this without knowing that I’m not your fallback guy. I keep waiting for you to realize that you’re over Scott and ready to settle down. I don’t want to be your fun guy, Danielle.”

  Ryan has always been the fun guy, and I guess it’s more of an insecurity than either of us realized until now. “Ryan, you’re more than my fun guy. I have been over Scott for months because of you. You helped me get over Scott.”

  His lips turn down and his eyes soften. He looks sad even though I just told him he’s more to me. “Did I or am I just replacing him until he no longer matters?”

  He doesn’t matter. “I had to call the police to remove him from my apartment. The Scott ship sailed that day.”

  “I think you need time to be single,” he says. “Some space to go have fun, meet people, see what life has to offer out there. It’s only fair. You jumped from Scott to me.”

  Like hell I do. That’s not what I want at all. “Ryan, I don’t want to go out and see what else life has to offer. I like what I have here. I love what we have. Your feelings aren’t one-sided. You’ve become important to me, too, and now, you want to go our separate ways because, for some reason, you think I need or want to sleep around? Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

  He’s so frustrating. Why can’t he understand that I don’t want that?

  “That’s not what I said. I spent most of my hiking trip trying to work this all out in my head,” he says. “The thought of you going out there and finding someone else who makes you happy makes my stomach churn, but you need time to be on your own. I’m not saying that I don’t want to be with you. I just need you to be sure you want to be with me.”

  T
his makes no sense. “So, you want to break up?”

  “ I want you to have the chance to make sure I’m the one you want too. I don’t want to be cut out of your life. Trust me, I know it’s a risk. You could find someone else, but it’s a risk I have to take if it will save me from a world of hurt down the road.”

  “Or things can continue on just fine,” I add in the one option he doesn’t seem to want to consider.

  “But they won’t Danielle,” he tells me. “You’ve noticed I haven’t been myself this week. Things are strained because I can’t stop thinking about this shit.”

  This is not how I pictured today going. This is not what I was thinking when I started this conversation. “You want to be just friends. You want me to go out and live the single life. And then what? Call you and tell you about all my dates? Is this because I went to the concert instead of your parents? That’s not fair Ryan. It was a once in a lifetime chance!”

  “No, Danielle. But the look of sheer fright on your face at the thought of meeting my family didn’t help.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “If we’re meant to be, Danielle, we will be. If you think we’re meant to be together, then do this for me. Give me the peace of mind I need.”

  What warped reality does Ryan see in his head?

  “Me dating and sleeping with other people will give you peace of mind?”

  He shakes his head. “The last thing I want is you out hooking up with other guys, but if you find yourself in the situation where you want to hook up with guys, then I guess we’ll have our answer on whether this was meant to be for us.”

  I’m lost. None of this makes sense.

  “So, you want me to go meet other men, date other men, but not sleep with them? This is pointless. Is this all so you can go sleep with other women? Are you projecting something going on with you onto me?”

  His eyes darken and his jaw clenches for a moment. I guess he didn’t like that. Too bad. I don’t like any part of this ridiculous plan. “I have no intention of seeing anyone else, Danielle,” he reassures me. “If that were the case, I would tell you. I need to know this will last if I want the future I see with you. I need this break. I need to know that you want a future without any regrets.”

  “You’re scared of getting hurt, so you’re pushing me away.”

  “I guess you can say that, but, Danielle, I don’t want you to stay away. I want you. I want you to come back to me. Just after you’ve made sure this is where you want to be.”

  I don’t say anything. I just sit and think about everything he just dumped into my lap. He’s pushing me away but only because he wants me to come back. I’ve never given him a reason to think I don’t want to be here.

  “Let me ask you this,” he interrupts my thoughts. “You’re a planner. Everything in your life is obsessively organized. What’s your plan for us?”

  “My plan for us?”

  He nods. “Yes, your plan. When you’re thinking about life at this point in time and what’s next with us, what’s your plan?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t have one. You’re the one who’s been telling me to stop planning and to enjoy things as they come.”

  “That’s my point, Danielle,” he stresses. “If you were ready to be serious with me, you’d have a plan. Yes, I’ve been encouraging you to be spontaneous, but I don’t want you to be someone else. You’re not thinking about me or us long term. You not having any kind of plan for us just confirms that we’re not on the same page. I need us to be on the same page. Please.”

  Ryan isn’t one to really ask for anything. Through my confusion and hurt, I feel how badly he needs this. Nothing about what he wants makes any sense to me, but it’s important to him, and he’s important to me even if he doesn’t believe it.

  “Okay, Ryan,” I say to appease him even though my heart feels like it’s breaking. “We’ll take a break, and I’ll explore the dating world.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Danielle

  One Week Later

  “This is so stupid,” I complain for probably the one hundredth time tonight. “I don’t even want to be here.”

  All I want to do right now is hang out with Ryan. I hate this stupid break thing he is making us do.

  “I still say it’s romantic,” Mercy says again as if this time I’ll agree with her. She thinks this whole thing is a grand gesture of how much he loves me.

  Love my ass. He kicked me to the curb and told me to go explore the dating world.

  “No, it’s not.” She’ll never get me to see her view of this. No matter how hard she tries. “There’s nothing romantic about dragging me to speed dating because the guy I was seeing decided we needed a break so I could be single for a while. I swear ever since the need to settle down bit you in the ass, you think everything is all signs and grand gestures. Life isn’t a movie Mercy.”

  She stops just outside the door to the restaurant. “He just wants to make sure you’re happy with him. He’s right. You jumped from one relationship to the next. You should make sure you’re ready to settle down again. What if you wish you’d gone out more six months from now and break up with him?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “How do I know that he won’t want to break up with me in six months?” I contest. “I don’t but I didn’t push him away.”

  “He’s trying to make sure you’re happy.”

  Well, news flash. I’m not. “He wants to make sure I’m happy by making me unhappy? That’s backward.”

  Mercy gives me a pointed look. “Maybe to you, but not to him. You said he’s important to you, so you’ll do it for him. Now, do it.” She opens the restaurant’s door and waits for me to walk through.

  Pushy, pushy.

  “Couldn’t we have done something else?” I ask as we enter the dimly lit waiting area. “Anything else, really.”

  Speed-dating is creepy to me. No judgment on those who have found someone through it, but all I picture are the scenes in movies that always make it seem so horrific. At least the bar we’re at seems nice. There’s a sign directing us to the back of the bar. There’s a room closed off for the event.

  “Oh, stop.” She rolls her eyes. “This is the perfect way to see what’s out there without having to go on dozens of pointless dates. It’s not like you’re actually trying to find a man here. And if you do . . . well then you do.”

  Point Mercy. I’m definitely not trying to find a potential date here. “How’d you find out about this?” I ask as we join the people waiting in line to check in.

  “One of the secretaries in the office was talking about it in the teachers’ room the other day, so I looked it up.”

  When we finish checking in, we’re handed a booklet. The first page lays out how the night is supposed to go. We sit at the table with the number matching our assignment, and each round lasts seven minutes. When the bell sounds, the gentlemen rotate tables clockwise.

  Seems fairly simple.

  The back of the booklet has pages with places to take notes on the guys as they rotate through on the dates. A rating page per se. I don’t know how I feel about the idea of being rated by these men as if I were just a piece of livestock up for auction.

  We enter the room and find bar tables set up all around it. I find my table, number nineteen, in the corner while Mercy’s is across the way. I set my bag down, and Mercy digs inside it, pulling out my phone.

  She wraps an arm around me and pulls me close to her. “Smile,” she orders as she holds the phone up and waits to take a selfie.

  I smile, and she takes the picture. Then, her thumbs go flying across the screen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just posting some pics on Snapchat.” Her eyes twinkle with mirth as she hitches a shoulder. “And Instagram.”

  On the screen is our picture followed by: Speed-dating. This should be interesting.

  Anger fills my chest. “Why would you post that? What if Ryan sees it?”

  Her face falls, and her frustratio
n shows. “Who cares? This is what he told you to do. So, it can be your proof when you get back together or revenge if you meet your future husband. Either way, it’s a win for you.”

  “What is this, high school?” I ask. “That sounds so petty.”

  Mercy plants her hand on her hip. “Bitch. Please. Don’t act like you didn’t check out all his accounts.”

  I cross my arms indignantly. “He doesn’t have social media. Except a Facebook that hasn’t been updated in about seven years.”

  She clucks her tongue. “You haven’t checked out the bar’s?”

  There’s no way I’m going to admit that to her right now.

  “That’s what I thought.” She gloats

  I need a drink.

  A server comes around and I order a glass of pinot.

  “Attention,” one of the hosts calls out. “Will all the ladies please report to your tables?”

  Mercy heads toward hers, and I take a seat at mine. The booklet we received at the check-in table has a bunch of “get to know you” questions in the back.

  It makes me think about all the times playing This or That with Ryan.

  Shake it off, Danielle. Focusing on that will only make this night more miserable.

  My wine arrives just as the men start to file into the room. It’s an eclectic group of men, I’ll tell you that. A wide array of different men scatter, taking seats at tables. Some are in suits. A few are in workout clothes as if they were heading to the gym. I see one man who looks like a hipster and one who looks like he belongs in a rock band. And a guy in the cat T-shirt looks like he is heading straight for my table.

  God, please no. I can already tell that me and this guy will not have anything in common.

  “Hi,” he greets me as he pulls back the other chair. “I’m Steven.”

  “Hi, Steven.” I try to contain my urge to run away. “I’m Danielle.”

  “Welcome, everyone,” a woman dressed in a black maxi dress addresses the room.

  While she’s speaking, I take a minute to check out Steven. He has longish, wild dirty-blond hair. His T-shirt, complete with a cat, looks a size too small and like he pulled it from the bottom of his hamper. If this is how he dresses to make a first impression, I’d hate to see what happens when he’s not trying.