The Casual Rule

by AC Netzel

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” He jerks his head back slightly, staring at me incredulously.

  “Because it meant I’d have to admit my true feelings to myself. The funny thing is, after you ran that marathon, I thought you could do anything. I was wrong. I just found the one thing you can’t do.” I swallow hard. “Love me.”

  I zip up my overnight bag and walk out of his bedroom. Ben follows closely behind. As I reach the door, he stands in front of it.

  “No Julia, wait,” he begs, panic stricken.

  “Wait for what? There’s nothing here for me. I’m just another one of your many fuck buddies. That may be enough for you, but it’s not enough for me. Not anymore.”

  “You’re not just a fuck buddy. Don’t say that.”

  “I know we agreed to keep things casual. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be your booty call anymore, your good time girl. This thing between us, it’s more to me now. I can’t help the way I feel. If it isn’t the way you feel, let’s just cut our losses and I’ll go. I need more than casual from you. Judging by your expression and lack of words, it’s clear you can’t give that to me. You’ve always been honest. I can’t fault you. I’m the one who broke our rule. I’m sorry,” I sniffle, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “I feel like such an idiot, apologizing for loving you.”

  “Please don’t apologize.”

  “We’re two different types of people. You buy a flower, wait for it to wilt and die, then just replace it with a different flower. I buy a flower, nurture it and watch it grow.”

  “You want a flower?”

  “No, Ben. I want the whole damn garden.” I’m going to completely crumble if I don’t get out of here. I need to leave. “Please move out of the way.”

  “Let me take you home,” he says quietly.

  “That won’t be necessary, I can get myself home.”

  “Julia, please. Can’t we stay…” He pauses, searching for the word, “friends?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t be your friend,” I say sorrowfully. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” I reach my hand up and caress his cheek. He inhales deeply as tears roll down my cheek. “Please don’t call me anymore.”

  He closes his eyes, hanging his head as he nods. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” he asks, his voice low and serious.

  Although I know this may kill me, I need to feel this one last connection. I nod looking down at the floor as I feel tiny pieces of my broken heart shattering inside me. Pain is all I feel, complete and utter heartache and pain. He tilts my chin up with his index finger and gazes at me, with a profound sadness in his eyes. His thumb gently skims across my bottom lip. He leans in and sweetly kisses my lips. I pour every ounce of love I feel for this beautiful man in this one sweet kiss, knowing I will never have this again. He gently strokes my cheek, wiping away my falling tears.

  “Goodbye Ben,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out as I take a step back.

  “Julia,” he says softly, looking as somber and heartbroken as I feel. He moves to the side of the door opening it for me. I walk past him toward the elevator down the hall, as he watches me from his doorway. As the elevator doors open, I take one last glance back at him, he smiles wistfully. I turn and walk into the elevator.

  As the doors close, I lean against the wall, dropping my overnight bag, and slowly sink down to the elevator floor.

  ~o0o~

  I rush home. I’m completely dazed during the subway ride back to my apartment, staring straight ahead, slowly dying on the inside.

  I’m glad the apartment is empty. I don’t want to talk. How am I going to face Allie? What am I going to tell my mom? She was wrong about Ben. He had no plans to stick around. And my dad? He liked Ben.

  Failure, humiliation, shame, and pain, every molecule in my body is racked with unrelenting grief.

  I open the apartment door, dropping my coat and overnight bag on the floor and run into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I’ve held myself together so well up until now, but I can’t anymore.

  My head is pounding as a raw howl escapes me, coming from deep down in the depths of my soul. I sob uncontrollably into my hands. I really fucking left him.

  I stare at my bedroom door, hoping it’ll open and he’ll burst in, begging for my forgiveness, explaining how he followed me the second I left. He loves me. He’s loved me for a long time. But here I am, alone in my room. Lost and empty.

  Sinking to the floor, I lean my back up against my bed and try to catch my breath. I left him. I love him and he doesn’t love me. He never will. How am I going to get through this? How? The pain has numbed me. I feel nothing. Nothing.

  I’m so tired. Just tired. I want to sleep. Just sleep and never wake up from the nightmare that’s unfolded in the past hour.

  Inhaling long deep gasps of air, I try to relax and steady my breathing. In and out, deep and slow. Eventually, my breathing quiets and I close my eyes, placing my hand over my heart. I sit still in silence, as I concentrate on the feel of my heart beating in my chest… Thump-thump, thump-thump, to remind myself that although I feel dead inside, I’m still alive.

  Chapter 17

  Allie walks into the living room wearing a tight, short royal blue strapless sequined dress with a sweetheart neckline. Her hair is clipped back with two floral shaped rhinestone hair clips to the side.

  “You look pretty,” I say softly.

  “Thanks, I was looking for a dress that matched the Times Square crystal ball.”

  “You succeeded. Seriously, you look gorgeous.”

  She smiles politely. “Jules, come out with us tonight. It’ll just be a few of my work friends. You know most of them anyway. It’s New Years Eve. You might feel better if you get out of the apartment.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t feel much like celebrating. I’m going to stay here.”

  “I’ll cancel my plans and keep you company.”

  “Thanks, but please don’t. I just want to sleep. Go out. Have a good time,” I insist.

  “We’ll have a good time together, just you and me.”

  “I’m not much company. Please go. I’ll feel worse if you change your plans. Go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” No.

  “All right, I’ll have my cell phone with me at all times. Call me if you need me. Meet us if you change your mind. I’m worried about you.”

  “Thanks. Have a good time. I’ll be fine.” I’m far from fine.

  “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” After bundling up her coat, she grabs her purse, hesitating for a moment then opens the door, taking one quick glance back at me.

  “Go, go.” I wave her away.

  She nods slowly, blows me a kiss and leaves, quietly closing the door.

  ~o0o~

  After tossing and turning for the past hour and a half, I give up. I can’t sleep. My brain won’t shut down. My thoughts are running all over the place. I want to turn it off. I want to just lie still, but it’s not happening.

  They say that God only gives you as much as you can handle. I think maybe God was wrong on this one. I can’t handle this hollow feeling anymore. I’m just so sad. So very sad. When I look in the mirror I see me, but I don’t feel like me. It’s like the stories you hear about patients who die on the operating table and look down on the medical team trying to revive them. That’s how I feel, like my body and soul disconnected. I’m lying on the table dying and my soul has already left.

  When I think I can’t possibly shed another tear, I cry. Every time I remind myself of my resilience, I got over Mikehole and I’ll get over Ben, my heart reminds me this was different. How I feel about Ben, what we were…Well, what I hoped we could have been, was different. I love him. I really truly to the depths of my being love him and it’ll never be returned. I sound like a sap, but it’s the truth… it’s my truth.

  This is worse than Mikehole cheating on me. He showed his true colors. He’s not a real man. He’s nothing but a
selfish coward, only capable of loving himself. Ben, on the other hand, is everything he said he was…what he omitted was that he’s giving, kind, funny, warm and loving. He has plenty of love to give. I’ve seen it. He freely gives it to his family; though a few of them don’t deserve it …he just has none to give to me.

  He doesn’t want my love. And I can’t give him anything less. Not anymore.

  I walk into the living room and sit alone on the couch watching the crowds in Times Square on television. The TV camera pans up to the crystal ball waiting to drop to welcome in the New Year. The revelers look so happy and drunk, couples in love, kissing when the camera points to them. The more I watch, the more my heart breaks.

  I pick up my cell phone that’s sitting on the coffee table. I always keep it nearby. Just in case…

  I brush my fingers against the screen and it lights up. Maybe I should send him a text wishing him a Happy New Year. Maybe when he sees my name on his cell phone, he’ll miss me and we can start over. No, no, no. There’s no turning back from this. We want different things. He made that clear. I place the phone back down on the coffee table.

  I glance at the clock on our cable box and notice it’s five minutes to midnight. I don’t want to watch the New Year ring in all alone. It’s too depressing, even for me. I reach across the couch to find the television remote control when I hear the front door burst open. I drop the remote and turn my head toward the door. Allie walks in alone, looking winded, her coat wide open, still wearing her sparkly blue cocktail dress. She throws her coat on the floor and walks toward me.

  Saying nothing, she sits down on the couch next to me and holds my hand, staring straight at the television. We sit silently for the next five minutes as we watch the seconds to the New Year count down. Midnight strikes and the ball drops. The crowd is going wild, confetti pouring down on to the city streets, couples kiss, Auld Lang Syne plays over the cheers. Allie squeezes my hand tightly, smiling sympathetically, and I realize she didn’t want me to be alone at midnight.

  This simple act of friendship is all it takes for me to breakdown. I crumble into her arms, sobbing as she embraces me, silently rocking me back and forth until I’m cried out.

  ~o0o~

  It’s been a week and the pain in the pit of my stomach has not lessened at all. I didn’t think it was possible, but it’s worse. I have to move on. I just have to. I can’t keep torturing myself.

  I want to hate him, I really do. It would be so much easier if I did. But I can’t, not really. He was always clear about what he wanted. I’m the one who changed, broke our one rule. He said casual and he meant it. I continued to fool myself into thinking that’s all I wanted too. But the simple truth is…I love him…and he doesn’t love me.

  Work has been my only solace. Vivian has been really good about my moping around, going easy on my workload. I’m sure she knows something happened. Pain is written all over my face.

  “Are you all right Julia?” she asks in a soothing tone.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She hesitates for a moment, a very un-Vivian move, softening the usual business facade she wears in the office. “If you ever feel the need to talk, you know about work…” She pauses briefly peeking over her glasses, “or whatever, I’m a very good listener.”

  “Thanks, I’m good.” I’m sure Vivian has better things to do than get sucked into my personal drama. “I think I’m done for the day. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, Julia. Go home. Please relax this weekend. If you need me… for anything, I’m a phone call away.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  I walk over to the elevators and catch a glimpse of myself in the stainless steel doors. Even through this distorted view I can clearly see that I look horrible. And what’s worse is I just don’t care.

  I’m not ready to go home. I need to walk, to think. I stroll mindlessly through midtown Manhattan, nearly walking into a stop sign. I’m so lost, just lost. The city is bustling with people leaving work, probably going home to their significant others. It’s amazing how you can be smack dab in the middle of a city buzzing with millions of people and feel so alone.

  The glare of a shiny object on the sidewalk catches my attention. I look down and see a quarter. Dutifully, I bend down and pick it up, looking at the date and markings. It’s nothing special. Just another quarter, like I was just another girl. I shove it in my coat pocket and continue walking.

  The chill in the air has finally gotten to me. I need to get home and hide out in my bedroom.

  As I’m walking toward the subway, I reach Emilio’s Café. I can’t help but feel a sense of melancholy. This is where we shared a pitcher of sangria and the rest was history. It’s bittersweet. I wonder if he misses me, maybe a little, like I miss him. I stop and peek in the front window. It’s just like I remember it, a little slice of Barcelona. There are a few people lurking around the hostess’ desk waiting to be seated and the bar is crowded with patrons getting their weekend started. Everyone is laughing and look like they haven’t a care in the world. It must be nice to feel that way.

  I wonder if I’ll ever feel that way again. Right now, I can’t see it happening for me. I’m stuck with this feeling of loss for what never was. This dark cloud feels like it will loom over me forever.

  My eyes widen, as I recognize a familiar face. That bitch Cam-eel is sitting at the bar with a man. Her arm casually stretched across the chairs, her hand resting on his shoulder. His back is to me, but I’d know that back anywhere. And my heart sinks.

  It’s Ben.

  For a moment, I feel the contents of my stomach threaten to come up. I hold my hand to my mouth and recover. He’s brought her to our place. How could I be so gullible? “Our place” was just a line…. pillow talk. And I fell for it.

  They look very chummy and deep in conversation. She briefly looks up. Our eyes lock as she cocks her head slightly, her brow arching. She subtly lifts her wine glass up to me as she smirks slyly in my direction. Then she looks back at Ben and leans in close to him, whispering something in his ear while slowly rubbing her hand back and forth on his shoulder. He hasn’t turned around to see me, so I know she hasn’t divulged I’m here, gawking at them like a lovesick stalker. It appears they are having a very intimate conversation. It’s apparent to me that Ben is back to his original fuck buddy.

  I’m sure Elizabitch will be thrilled.

  My heart sinks. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess my heart is lying dead on the sidewalk below me.

  It’s always going to be her. He sees her as someone he needs in his life. They screw around when the mood strikes and confide in each other. His family sees her as his great match. I can’t compete with that. The fact is I never stood a chance.

  I’ve seen enough. I rush to the subway station, fighting the tears, repeating my mantra.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  ~o0o~

  Somehow I find the strength to hold myself together during the subway ride and walk to my apartment. I open the door, throw my coat on the floor, and run for the bathroom.

  I fall to the floor, dry heaving over the toilet. Holding in these emotions is too much for my body to take. After a while of hugging the toilet, I stand and walk over to the sink. I look at myself in the mirror.

  “Stupid!” I yell at my mirror image.

  I sink to the floor and sob into my hands, my body heaving, wallowing in my emptiness and the realization that I lost at love. I need to get out of here. I dab my tears on my shirt’s sleeve and get off the floor. Standing in front of the bathroom sink, I throw some cold water on my face. I look at the reflection staring back at me. My eyes have dark circles under them and I’m pale. I look like hell. I’m a complete mess. A cold splash of water can’t mask my red swollen eyes.

  When I open the bathroom door, Allie is standing on the other side. She opens her mouth to say something. I immediately hold up my hand to stop her.

  “Not now, Allie. I don’t want
to talk about it.” I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand.

  “Okay. I’m here if you need me,” she says softly.

  “I know. Thanks,” I choke out while running to my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  I change into my Christmas flannel pajamas. Even a simple pair of pajamas makes me think of him. There’s nothing I can do to escape him. I collapse on my bed, my arms wrapped around my bended knees, weeping. Why did I think I could do this? I know I’m not a casual relationship girl. I’m such a fucking fool. I did this to myself. I put myself here. This is my fault.

  There’s a light knock on my bedroom door.

  “Julia, can I come in? I made some soup.”

  “Yeah, come in.” I sniff, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand.

  Allie walks in holding a tray with a bowl of soup and a few Saltine crackers on it.

  “Please eat something before you die from malnutrition,” she pleads.

  I straighten myself up on the bed as she places the tray over my lap. I look down at the bowl. It’s chicken noodle soup. My mom used to make this when we were kids. There’s a feeling of comfort just from the aroma. I sip a spoonful.

  “You opened the can and heated the soup very well. Thank you,” I say.

  “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor.”

  “Barely,” I mutter.

  “Would you like some company? I can sit with you.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  We sit quietly while I finish my soup and crackers.

  “That’s much better,” Allie says as she moves the tray off my lap. She sits on the edge of my bed beside me, playing with my hair like my mom used to do when we’d talk.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened since this morning? You looked very upset coming out of the bathroom.”

  My shoulders slump and I sigh. “I saw him. He was in a bar with that Camille bitch hanging all over him. He’s gone back to her.”

  “Maybe they were just talking.”