My So-Called Perfect Life

by K. A. Berg

It was painful to watch.

  Roxy stands in front of me, her phone up and ready to start. “You only have one shot at making this good, Ry. No pressure, but don’t fuck up.”

  Evan laughs as he hands me the bottle. “Yeah, don’t fuck up.”

  “Or hit me with the cork.” Roxy adds last minute.

  Evan sidles up next to her and says, “I’ll cork you, Rox.”

  “Keep your dick away from me,” she glares at him.

  These two. I swear one day they’re going to kill each other or fuck the shit out of each other. I’m not sold either way.

  “Ready?” I ask slipping the bottle into position between my hands.

  Roxy nods. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . go!”

  I push the cork with my thumbs. The pop rings out through the room. A stream of white foam shoots up and pours from the bottle as Roxy hoots and Evan claps.

  “Congrats, buddy!” Evan claps my shoulder. “I’m so damn happy for you.”

  Roxy hugs me. “You’re going to kill it with this place, boss.”

  She turns her phone and the three of us take a selfie. “Smile and say ‘Cohen’s’!”

  She snaps a few pictures, takes the bottle from me, and walks over to the bar to fill the glasses with the bubbly.

  Evan snatches a glass and raises it. “Cheers!”

  The pride filters back into my chest with the clinking of our glasses. My dream is expanding and growing. Life is good.

  With the exception of missing Danielle.

  Every time she posts a photo or gets tagged in one while out doing all these new things with Mercy and Amelia, it chips away a little piece of me. I used to have to drag her out of her comfort zone. Now she’s doing it all on her own. She seems to be having fun and that is what I want for her.

  But I’m still waiting for the day she tells me that she found someone new, confirming that I was, indeed, her rebound. She hasn’t reached out to me since we went our separate ways in the park.

  “Missing Chlamydia Girl?” Evan asks leaning against the dark wood of the bar. “I can see it on your face. You make this weird scowl whenever your mind drifts to her.”

  I shrug. “I mean yeah, I do. But it’s better now rather than later.”

  “What’s better?” he asks.

  “If this is only a temporary thing, it’s better to end it now. It’d hurt more later.”

  She went out with Mercy the other night and it turned into a date. Or I’m assuming it did anyway based on the pictures on Instagram and Snapchat Roxy insists on showing me. They went to an escape room. She posted a photo, complete with a huge smile on her face while she held up a sign saying, “I escaped.” There was a guy behind her with his hand around her shoulders and was looking at her not the camera He seemed pretty damn smitten. It stung a bit.

  I know that feeling.

  This was different than the speed dating thing.

  This was her out meeting people and forming connections.

  Either way, I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t have a leg to stand on. I told her to go out and date. That she needed it. Clearly, I was right. I’m still not ready to fully give up hope yet, but . . .

  Evan’s next words shock the shit out of me. “I’m not her biggest fan but I also don’t like seeing you like this. The pep is missing in your step. You’ve always known what was worth the risk and what was going to bring you to the ER with some broken bones. If you think Danielle is worth the risk, then take it. What the hell do I know?”

  “Nothing!” Roxy yells across the space as she walks along the front wall.

  “You called her Danielle.” Not Chlamydia Girl. Not crazy ass or any of the other nicknames he’s used since we’ve gotten together. He said her name.

  He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make this a big deal, Ry. I’m just saying if you want her, go fight for her.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not about fighting for her, Ev. I want her to be sure she wants to be with me. I don’t want to be her rebound.”

  “So, you’re just going to wait for someone to come along and steal her.”

  Damn, I wish I had alcohol in this bar. “No. I’m waiting for her to make sure she wants me.”

  Roxy makes her way over and adds her two cents. “She told you she wants you, dumb ass!”

  “It’s not something I can explain to you.” I tell them. “There will be something that comes along and tells me this is meant to be. Then I’ll know for sure.”

  Evan places the lease back into the folder and starts gathering his stuff up. “Dude, when did you grow a fucking vagina? If you want the girl, go get her. If not move on.” He holds up the folder in his hand. “I’ve got to get this to the office. I’ll see you later, pussy.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Danielle

  One week later

  Longest four weeks of my life. Honestly, I’m concerned I might be becoming depressed.

  I wasn’t even this down in the dumps after Scott. Hell, I stopped thinking about him after that first week. But this last month has felt like I’ve been walking around, merely functioning, with a piece of me missing. I have no desire to go out anymore. It was kind of fun for a bit but now going out just leads to more sadness for me. It reminds me that the one person who I want to be spending time with doesn’t want to spend time with me. Hell, he doesn’t even call me. I was okay with going out and doing things to pass the time and prove him wrong. But it’s been radio silence. I’ve heard nothing from him.

  Ryan’s life seems to be moving along just dandy without me. Hell, he’s got so much going on, I doubt he’s even had time to miss me. Danielle who? Meanwhile, I can barely pull my ass out of bed in the morning over here.

  I wish Roxy would stop updating their damn social media accounts. Or I could stop stalking them.

  The boomerang of him, Evan, and Roxy popping the cork of a bottle of champagne on Instagram with the caption “Another Cohen’s coming to a location near you!” broke me. I wanted to be there with him so badly, but he seemed just fine without me. All smiles. Stomp on my heart why don’t you? Rip it from my chest and crush it with your bare hands because that’s what it feels like is happening.

  He signed a lease for the location of his next bar. His favorite baseball team just won the World Series literally minutes ago. It feels like so many good things in his life are unfolding while I’m sitting on the sidelines like the kid no one wanted to pick for their kickball team at recess. My heart always hurts for that kid, and I’ve become them.

  I’m on the bench while everyone else is playing in the winning game.

  Maybe drinking so many beers wasn’t my best idea. I don’t even really like beer.

  But it was all I could think to do to get over the fact that tonight should’ve been a great night between Ryan and me, but noooo, I’m home alone on my couch with my sister, watching the celebration unfold on television.

  Call me a masochist, but I couldn’t not watch the final game of the World Series today. I knew it came down to this game. All the papers had stuff about game seven of the series plastered all over the front pages. With the Dodgers being in it, I knew how excited Ryan must be for it. My mind keeps wandering back to our first date—the game, the hot dogs, the beer, the foam finger, and that kiss.

  God, how did I fall so far in love with someone in such a short time? How did Ryan root himself so deep into my life, I’ve become that pathetic loser pining for someone who hasn’t tried to contact me since he asked for time and space. Not for himself but for me? Damn it still makes no sense. Outside of pictures on the internet, I haven’t seen Ryan since the day in the park. He said he didn’t want to be cut out of my life, but he’s not made a bit of effort to physically be in it.

  Why would he say that but then avoid me or not even try to make plans once?

  Is he waiting for Christmas or just for me to get bored and say fuck it and move on?

  He should’ve just dumped me then.

  Wait a minute …

  I tur
n to my sister, who’s curled up on the other end of the couch, scrolling through her phone. “Do you think this is a test?”

  “Is what a test?”

  The thought takes off in my mind. “The break thing with Ryan. Is he waiting for me to come back to him, or am I waiting for him to come to me?”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Dani?” She glances at the end table littered with beer bottles. “When did you drink so much?”

  Amelia hasn’t been paying any attention to me or the game. She is just here so I don’t look like a pathetic loser, pining for a man while I get drunk on a Thursday night.

  “What if Ryan is waiting for me to come to him and call this off? What if I’m failing the test? How am I supposed to know? He mentioned something about not knowing how or when to take the next step that day in the park. That I hadn’t brought up becoming more so he just left things alone. What if I’m supposed to make the move to bring us back together?”

  She disagrees, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “I’ve been the one to make the first moves.”

  “What first moves?”

  I can sense her aggravation with me, but I don’t care.

  “That first night,” I remind her, “I started it all by saying I should find someone to screw to get over Scott. And I’m the one who went back to the bar to yell at him.”

  “I wasn’t there for the first meeting between you guys but that second one doesn’t count as you making the first move,” she counters. “You wanted to confront him. You had to be carried out covered in vomit. If anything, he made the first move, inviting you to stay and then asking you out on a date after we went to see him.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Then, by that token, it’s two-to-one in the first-move department, so clearly, it’s my move.”

  Amelia sits forward and grabs my hands, clasping them between hers, as if she were talking to a child. “Danielle, this isn’t a game. I think you’ve had too much to drink, and you’re not in a great place. You’re sad and missing him. You shouldn’t be making off-the-cuff decisions right now.”

  Who the hell is she kidding?

  Alcohol is what made me and Ryan possible.

  Plus, Ryan has been preaching about taking risks and living life in the moment.

  I’m in the goddam moment.

  “Since when has being a bit tipsy hindered my relationship with Ryan?”

  “Danielle, listen to me.” She pins me with a pointed look as her voice hardens. “You’re drunk. You’re sad. You’re not thinking clearly. Ryan isn’t playing some game with you or testing you. You guys had a pretty intense beginning, and things moved faster than he was ready for. You guys needed time and space. If you’re ready to talk about moving forward together, maybe start with a conversation instead of charging in full steam ahead with some cock-eyed plan you have in your drunk mind. ”

  “No.” I dismiss her idea, liking my drunken one better. “He asked me if I had a plan for our future. I said no, but I do. It’s all I can think about. Getting married. Having kids. Will they look like him or me? What will Mom and Dad think of him? How would he feel about living in the suburbs? I keep thinking about it, Amelia. And no matter how many times I go out and meet men, no one else I meet will fit into the Ryan shape in those pictures.”

  She looks almost sorry for me as she tries to fake a smile. I’ve known the woman her whole life. I can tell when she’s faking.

  “Well then, maybe give him a call tomorrow and see if you can grab some coffee and talk.”

  “Fuck tomorrow and coffee.” Is she crazy? “This is too important to wait. I need to get to Cohen’s.”

  Ignoring my sister’s pleas for me to think about waiting until tomorrow, I dash into my room and start stripping out of my clothes. I can’t see Ryan for the first time in a month, wearing one of his T-shirts and sweatpants.

  “Danielle,” she calls after me, but it’s too late.

  I’m on a mission. I’m getting my man back. Screw this break shit. He wants to know I want him and only him? Well, he’s about to get a dose of how much I want him.

  I grab my favorite jeans, a white T-shirt, and my brown leather jacket that matches my boots. In under five minutes, I’m fluffing my hair in the mirror and swiping on some lip gloss. This is the most energetic I’ve been in days.

  When I finish and reemerge from my room, my sister is waiting for me at the door with her shoes on and her coat and purse in her hand.

  “You’re not going by yourself,” she says.

  At this point, I don’t care how I get there or who is with me. I just need to get to Ryan. “Fine.”

  I practically jog up the subway stairs when we get to the station near the bar.

  “Danielle, chill out. You don’t even know if he’s there.”

  “Yes, I do,” I toss over my shoulder as I make a right down the block toward the back alley of Cohen’s. “There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.”

  “At least slow down,” she calls out. “It’s like there was cocaine in that beer.”

  Continuing to ignore her like I have been since we left the house, I reach the alley that leads to the back entrance of Cohen’s. It’s quicker than walking around the block to the front door.

  The fifteen minutes it took to get here has been spent obsessing over what I’m going to say to Ryan. It’s all in my head, but it’s jumbled because I have so much I want to say, and I want to get it all out, so we can just forget this stupid shit and move forward. Together.

  The side door of the bar opens and echoes in the alley, drawing my attention to the two people stumbling out into the back lot. I can’t make out much from this far down, but it’s clearly a man and a woman. The man has his arm around the woman’s waist, and her head is leaning on his shoulder. They’re walking slowly, and as they reach the back stairs, I’m close enough to make out the tattoos on the man’s arm. I spot a colorful dragon tail mixed in the tattoos. A dragon tail that I’m very familiar with. One that I’ve traced with my fingers time and time again.

  Ryan is taking some woman up to the loft above the bar.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  I stand stiff as a statue as I watch him lead the woman up the stairs and through the door just as Amelia finally reaches me.

  “What are you looking at?”

  My eyes stay focused on the closed door. Pain and fury grip my heart and squeeze. Ryan just took some woman up to the loft.

  And I doubt it was to play Parcheesi.

  More like Hide the Salami.

  Son of a bitch!

  What are the fucking odds that the night I figure it all out and come to get my man back, he decides to take a bed buddy? I mean, for real, who the hell have I pissed off that I keep getting shit sandwich after shit sandwich?

  “Ryan just took some woman up there.”

  “What?” she huffs as if she’s out of breath. She really needs to up her cardio. “How do you know?”

  “I saw him.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  I nod. “I saw his arm and tattoos.”

  “Damn it,” she curses. “I told you we shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I need to see this.”

  It’s like the day of my wedding all over again. Two conflicting emotions war inside my chest. Only this time, it’s anger and desperation.

  Did he call a break just so he could sleep around?

  Was he just having commitment issues?

  Or was my earlier feeling correct?

  Has he been waiting for me to come to him?

  Am I too late, and he’s ready to move on?

  Only one way to find out.

  My thoughts are streamlined into one thing—find out what’s going on behind that door. I steel my spine, take a deep breath, and prepare to march up those stairs and finish this once and for all. I’m not some puppet Ryan can keep on a string for when it’s convenient for him.

  Amelia grabs my arm and pulls, swinging me a
round to face her. “Why do you need to see this? What do you plan to do if he opens that door?”

  I haven’t gotten that far.

  Punch him?

  Kick him in the junk?

  I wonder how much it would hurt if I pulled on his piercing—and not in the teasing way that makes him groan. No, I don’t want to hurt him. But he’d better not be up there, groaning for some other woman.

  And, if he is, he’s not going to get very far.

  Desperation wrestles my anger down in my mind, and I pull my arm from Amelia and head toward the stairs. “I plan to stop it.”

  Amelia tries to block me as I hit the stairs. “Danielle, you’re insane. Do not go up there.”

  My mind flits back to the night Ryan and I spent up there. Where it all began for us. Too many different scenarios of what could be going on behind that door invade my brain. There’s no choice. I need to know. “I have to.”

  My heart pounds in my chest like a caged animal trying to get out. I might be insane, but I also could be right on time to stop this before it’s too late. Or at the very least, I’ll get to finish it once and for all.

  A wave of doubt crashes over me as I reach the top of the metal stairs and hit the landing.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Are you sure you want to do this? What’s behind that door could crush you. Are you stupid? The guy hasn’t made a move to see you in a month. Of course he’s screwing other girls.

  My bravado wanes as my emotions switch gears. The desperation surging through me moments ago gives way to the anger as I think about Ryan stringing me along while he’s out being Mr. Fun again.

  I hear a thump behind the door, and the urge to scream consumes me. I want to yell and curse at him at the top of my lungs, but I’m frozen.

  Maybe I’m just a magnet for unfaithful men. Maybe I’m not good enough to keep a man happy.

  My inner bad chick rears her head, yelling over all the commotion in my head. You are more than enough to keep the right man happy, girl. You brought that man’s fantasies to life. Don’t let him extinguish your fire.

  I glance back down at my sister at the bottom of the stairs. She looks nervous and unsure.