by Aja Cole
“I figured that was all implied by saying it was cool and we’ll probably go out again.”
“Fine.” I cross my eyes where he can’t see them, listening to him as he laughs.
“The conversation was okay, she’s clearly a woman who likes to be put together, and I guess if there’s something that gave me a little bit of pause, it’s that she seems very…organized. Reminded me of Professor Lim.”
“Remember when she randomly told us that she organized her underwear by seam style?”
“She overshared more than a few times.”
“Heidi likes to be polished whenever she can, unless it’s completely out of her control. But things rarely are.”
“It was fun, I think we’ll have a good time if we go out again, but I’m not sure about long-term. I guess we’ll see. I didn’t call to talk about the date, by the way.”
“Oh?” I’m finally doing the reconnaissance that I should’ve been doing over the years on Asher, and I’m distracted by all the pictures coming up and by clicking on articles.
And anything that mentions a woman.
This is why I had to put distance between us, because this isn’t healthy. I don’t want to slide back into pining after him like a lovesick puppy.
I need to put the same effort into my own dating life that I’m trying to push him to do.
It’s time.
If Asher is going to be back in my life, then I have to take the steps I need to so that I can enjoy his friendship only…or I have to leave again.
That’s not something I want to do, because I know that as forgiving as he is, our relationship would be over if I was that callous again.
“I got curious and looked up that lawyer we used. Did you know he got stripped of his license not long after we dissolved things?”
“Damn, we handled things just in time.”
“Yeah, it’s weird. They’re apparently still combing through cases he handled and making sure stuff was legit.”
How does this man look so good at all angles? Even when he’s in an action picture and covered in dirt and sweat, he looks delicious.
It’s just not fair.
“That’s crazy,” I murmur, only half listening. I wonder who this blonde is. She’s in a few different pictures.
“So, I was thinking about having sex with a guy from my team. Everyone loves to share, and the locker room gets pretty wild sometimes.”
“Interes—excuse me?” My mouth gapes. Did I hear him right?
“I was just seeing if you were listening to me. Obviously, you’re not. I guess I’ll head to sleep, after all.”
“No!” I protest, closing my computer and tossing it on my bed. “Sorry, I’m listening. I promise. Let’s catch up.”
“You still not talking to your mom and dad?”
“Let’s catch up about anything but that.” I pull my covers up, turning on my side and laying on my pillow with the phone still on speaker. “How’s your dad been?”
“Oh man, do I have some funny shit to tell you about that man…” He groans, and I listen to him talk about his dad’s scare with cancer and the crazy stuff he’s been pulling to try to set Ash up with a woman.
We talk about Ash’s best friends, my favorite clients, some of the places I’ve been traveling, if I’m going to move back to the city for good or keep splitting my time.
We talk for hours, the way we used to all the time, about everything and nothing.
When I wake up in the morning, it’s to see my phone on 5%, with Asher’s light snores coming through the speaker.
Instead of hanging up, I lay there for a few more minutes and listen to him breathe.
Finally, I end the call and with it, know that it’s time to really try to find someone else that fits into my life.
They won’t be Asher, but there’s only one Asher King, and he’ll never be mine.
8
Nova
It’s one week before my birthday, and I feel the familiar anxiety that I always do around this time.
There’s a knot in my stomach that gets bigger with each step that I take towards my mailbox, and I get there and twist the key, popping it open.
Thank you card.
Wedding invitation.
Bank statement.
Random shit.
Bingo.
The pink card is the same as it always is, and I know that when I open the flap, the inside will be a pale shimmery gold. There’s nothing on the front except for my name and address printed on a nondescript label.
It comes around the same time, give or take a few days. They must send it early to make sure it gets here on time.
The only things that are always different are the cards inside, and the amounts on the checks.
It increases as I get older, but I don’t use any of it. I started getting them the year I turned 18 and left home for good, so this is the sixth year.
The only people who would do something like this are my parents.
Or one of them. Or hell, maybe even Sasha. When I went no-contact with my parents, I left Sasha and his daughter Mandy behind too. That hurt the most, because we were thick as thieves, and Sasha was family too.
Both of my parents probably have too much pride to admit that they were wrong and apologize, but leave it to them to think I’d want their money more than just them.
It’s a fact of our relationship that I’ve resigned myself to.
I put all the money with Vanguard, and I don’t touch it. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, but it would needle me too much to use it. I’ll probably go the charity route after I do research.
I do very well on my own, and when my dad said that I needed to think about what I was doing, I told him to basically go to hell.
I will never understand how they could think that it was okay to promise me to someone I didn’t love, that I didn’t choose or want.
What 18 year old girl dreams of being sat down on her birthday and being told that she’s about to begin preparation for what would be an arranged marriage, “for the good of the family and your future”?
It’s a different thing when you grow up knowing that it’s the way or your culture and expecting it. But that’s not how shit goes down for most families in the US, and it was not how I was going down either.
I made it a point to not ask too many questions when it came to my family, and maybe that was my mistake. I never asked why we had a security team. I never asked why our house was so well-equipped with alarms and surveillance. I tried to ignore the closed-door meetings and the way my parents pretended like my sister didn’t disappear one night only to never come back.
I should’ve cared, but I didn’t, until it was too late and all I could do was something drastic to keep my freedom.
Thank God that there was an amazing boy that lived in our guest house to make crazy decisions with me.
My parents are notoriously private people, so when Asher and his dad moved into the guest house near the back of our property, I was surprised.
But aside from Asher and I making it a point to be friends, there wasn’t much overlap between our families. I think that’s why it worked so well in the eyes of my mom and dad; Asher and his dad kept to themselves and like me, I don’t think they asked questions either.
That’s something my parents counted on with everyone they crossed paths with. No one asked any goddamn questions. If you did, you probably ended up like me—feeling disillusioned and betrayed.
I was always the good one. I didn’t give them any problems, and I especially wanted to make them happy after I was the only daughter they had left. I’m sure that they expected me to go along with what they wanted, because I always had.
But that day, something broke inside of me. I saw things very, very clearly and there was only one person on my mind when I left my father’s office.
Asher.
I needed to see Asher, and maybe together, we could figure out what to do.
Two weeks later, we el
oped and made sure that it wasn’t a secret. Frances, the son of my parents’ friends, called me and thanked me for getting him off the hook. I hadn’t known until then who they’d made plans with, but we both agreed that my recklessness was warranted and appreciated.
So, for 364 days a year, it’s like I don’t exist for Kota and James Quentin. Except, apparently, on my birthday.
If they’d said they were wrong and apologized, I’d have forgiven them. But they never did, and I don’t think they ever will.
In their minds, I was selfish, willful, and impulsive. When my mom’s parting words were “You’re just like your sister”, it was the best compliment she could’ve given me, and I cherished that.
Naja would’ve approved, and I imagined her cheering me on every step of the way.
What she wouldn’t approve of is the way I never said anything to Asher despite our circumstances, and the way I never will.
I don’t look at the amount on the check right now. I’ll give it to my accountant and let her handle it per usual. There’s never any writing inside the card, or a signature.
I enter my place and go to my room, going deep into my closet and pulling out the little lockbox that I have.
I almost threw the first one away, but something made me keep it. I take out the check and put the card on top of the others, seeing the pink sparkling phone case from my childhood peeking out from under the things I’ve added over the years.
I open this box once a year, and it still hurts just as much every time. I finger the rough edges of the crystals, some of which have fallen off, and swallow the lump in my throat.
Closing the box and putting it away again, I close my closet doors and leave the memories where they belong.
9
Nova
My nails don’t look like chewed up stubs, my hair is around my shoulders for once, and I actually put on a little bit of lip gloss.
It’s all guys are getting from me tonight. This is me trying. I’m wearing a fitted black dress and strappy black wedges, both gifts from Tara. She promised me that these heels were some of the most comfortable she’d ever worn, and she knew I’d appreciate a pair.
All I’ve been doing is sitting at the bar, so I can’t cosign her assessment yet, but they were fine walking in on.
I look at the text notification on my phone for what’s probably the hundredth time.
Heidi: Second date is locked in!
