by Amanda Cowen
“Are you going to be okay?” Eric asks, bringing me back to reality.
“I’m fine.” I say, and wipe away the last remaining tears from my cheeks.
I watch them share a concerned glance, when Eric sighs, “We’ll see you later then?”
I nod and walk away with hunched shoulders and burning red eyes. There is nothing I can do, and this time, I know none of this is a game to Ben. It is really over.
Chapter 20
The next day, I sit alone and secluded at the lobby bar patiently waiting for the shuttle to arrive. I twiddle my thumbs and watch a soccer game blaring from the flat-screen behind the bartender as I casually sip my pinna colada. Of course I still feel like a basket case after I spent yesterday locked in our villa, hidden under the covers and ordering room service. I watched Spanish re-runs of “Friends” and emotionally ate a greasy burger and fries while everyone else enjoyed their last day in paradise. So today, I thought I owed it to myself to bask in the heat from the Costa Rican sun. Instead of crying alone in the bathroom and writing letters of apology to Jessica and Michael.
“Want another?” the bartender asks as he wipes down the countertop.
“Might as well.” I sigh and slurp the remaining slush, before I slide my empty glass over to him.
“Why so down Sinorita?” the bartender nods with narrowed eyes, “You’re too beautiful for a frown.”
“Thanks” I mutter as he slides me a new drink. I really don’t want to sound unpleasant, but I know I do.
“I made it a double. I hope that’s okay.” He says and gives me a wink.
“That’s great actually.” I say with a half smile.
The bartender jerks his head to the side when a bunch of footsteps echo behind us and trek up the stairs and into the lobby. I turn around and follow his gaze, silently watching from a distance as Jessica, Michael and their hundred or so guests check out at the front desk. They are forced to make their way past me, but ignore me as if I am invisible. I decide I can handle Jessica and Michael’s blatant disregard. But even her pleasant Aunt Florence has provided me with the coldest of shoulders. Then when Michael’s prude and snobbish mother quickly slides into the bar stool a few seats away from mine. I look over and give her a polite smile. I am grasping for any type of human acknowledgement, hoping she will return a grin, but no such luck.
I become tense and infuriated, turning my back to her and grumble that this is useless. No one would ever disobey Jessica by speaking to me. Who am I kidding? I loathe in some self-pity and start to feel like the once awkward and dorky Megan who was isolated during her elementary school days, until Jessica chose to befriend me. I swear the only reason she even gave me the time of day was because she figured if we were friends, I would let her copy all my answers on our tests, which somehow I was suckered into doing on more than one occasion.
Now here we both are, all these years acting like complete strangers over something that could have easily been avoided had I been honest with everyone, including myself, right from the beginning. I should have told Jessica what happened between Ben and me. She would have known what to do. She would have never let me become another one of Ben’s fleet of booty calls. I wish I could just cry into her shoulder and have her tell me everything is going to be okay, but unfortunately, none of that is the case. The truth is I am not even brave enough to approach her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jessica kissing her family goodbye and Michael hugging his father farewell as they all board an idling shuttle headed to the airport. I am relieved though, when I see Matthew, Eric, Stephanie, and Michelle all stagger into the lobby together, chatting and laughing. Yesterday must have been quite a smash, because everyone except for me is in a great mood. Even Steven, all black and blue, lets out a hearty laugh from a joke his cousin Charlie makes. For heaven’s sake, he was sucker punched and humiliated and is still happier than I am right now.
I tell myself to try and look happy. I stupidly smile at the bartender, but he takes that as an opportunity to ask me if I need anything else. I shake my head and look down at my drink to twirl my straw in its slushy juices. I dig through my purse and pretend to look for something to occupy my time, until I feel someone hovering over my shoulder. I lift my eyes up and see Steven leaning against the bar. I wince at his eye, which looks even worse up close all red, boiled and swollen. I take a large gulp and feel like a fool, wishing I could just run away.
“Hi Megan” he says and sits on the stool beside me. Great, I am trapped.
“I’m so sorry.” I blurt out cutting right to the chase, but nervously force my eyes down, “I never thought-“
“No you didn’t think.” Steven says cutting me off with a chuckle, “Look, I really liked you, I just wish you would have been honest with me.”
“You’re right, you deserved the truth” I sigh and fiddle with the fringe of my shorts, “I’m really sorry I wasn’t.”
“Well if you were, I could have avoided a black eye.” Steven sternly says.
A really awkward silence fills the space between us and it makes me shudder. He gets up from the stool and walks back to his family herded on the opposite side of the lobby. When he if half-way there, he stops, turns around and says, “Whatever happens, I hope it works out for you.”
I feel guilty that I used Steven to get at Ben, but I honestly did like him, and had things been different, we could have actually had something. It was more than selfish of me to treat him how I did, and so unlike me that it is embarrassing. I watch Steven walk away with his hands forced rigidly in his pockets, and I know he will make one girl very lucky some day. Unfortunately, it just isn’t me.
Steven meshes back into the crowd of his cousins, and I see Jessica join their circle. She shoots me a dirty look when she catches me staring at them and wraps her arm around Steven’s neck and pulls him in for a sympathetic hug. I quickly look away, to see Eric waving me down. I smile over at him, standing with Matthew and Michelle; coincidently the only three people I have left routing for me in our quickly dissolving group. He points to the shuttle pulled up to the front of the resort and mouths, “Our shuttle” I mouth a “thank you” back and quickly gather my things.
As everyone piles onto the bus, Jessica sees me behind her in the line. We both freeze and she immediately gives me a look of disgust. She turns her back to me and flicks her long blonde curls in my face. I want to scream out that I am sorry, and call her out on acting like the mean girl she once was in high school. But unfortunately Jessica is all about the dramatics and has always been that way.
Over the years, I had only ever been a quiet observer to the tortures Jessica placed on others who crossed her path. I was fortunate enough to have dodged her theatrics that accompanied any type of female betrayal. I was thankful that Jessica adored and valued our life-long sister-hood of a friendship, because growing up I was far from ever becoming as popular as she was. I would even argue had I not had Jessica in my life, I would have been subject to all the stereotypical social suicides during those crucial adolescent years. My combination of flat and limp hair, frumpy dumpy band t-shirts, an active member of the drama club, while rocking the physique of a twelve year old boy with a case of mild acne was less than cool.
I put myself back into the eleventh grade, with one memory that stands out in my mind. It all started when Jessica heard through the grapevine that Claire Anderchuck (a fellow cheerleader on the squad), told people Michael had cheated on Jessica with Lindy Barber (Claire’s closest friend) at a party the weekend before.
Before Jessica went all buck-wild on Claire and Lindy, she decided to set the record straight. She barreled through the cafeteria doors and point-blank asked Michael (well actually, more like screamed at him) and wanted to know if the rumors were true. Michael burst out laughing at her insane accusations, while Ben and I played a game of cards in the cafeteria during our second period spare. Of course Michael continued to tell her she was crazy, and insisted he would never cheat on her. Ben felt
obliged to back him up, and even unnecessarily threw in that Lindy was ugly (which was rude and hardly true, even though she did have buck teeth and a face full of freckles).
But Claire’s stupid and destructive rumor did not sit well with Jessica for the remainder of the afternoon. She stormed all over the school hallways and insisted that both Claire and Lindy were about to be “ruined” to the whole entire student body. After school, Jessica dragged me to their cheerleading practice to witness the ultimate showdown. I was hesitant, but curious enough not to object and observe this much anticipated catfight. I had always known Jessica to be a bit over-the-top and abrasive, but I also knew that this type of behavior had led her to be the ‘IT’ girl you didn’t want to mess with.
But unfortunately for Claire, she did not share the same friendship privileges that I was accustom to. Jessica stormed into the gym with me trailing behind, and didn’t waste one second before she told off Claire in front of the whole squad.
I remember all the other cheerleaders were petrified as Jessica went off, but not one of them defended Claire. When Claire tried to deny everything, it only sent Jessica further into the red zone and called her a few more swear words that scarred me for life. But Claire held her ground and begged Jessica for forgiveness. Jessica refused to accept Claire’s apology, and I clearly remember standing awkwardly in the corner, feeling nothing but bad for Claire as I watched her run into the girl’s locker room to bawl her eyes out. It was so horrible, that eventually Claire changed schools, leaving me to feel guilty that I had been a catalyst in her ultimate demise.
Throughout the years, every time Jessica took down another, instead of telling her that her behavior was cruel and uncalled for, I just remained a coward, thankful I had never been subject to any one of her dramatic spews. But here I am, a full-grown woman, petrified of being the new Claire Anderchuck.
I shamefully bow my head as I brush past Jessica and don’t dare call her out on her mean girl tactics. Instead, I choose to avoid her like the plague. I slide into the first seat at the front of the bus and seclude myself right behind the driver. I shove my headphones into my ears, and crank-up my iPod to blast a streamline of country songs.
“How are you holding up? You look a little better than yesterday” I hear Eric say, as he slides into the empty seat beside me. He tosses his bag on the ground and holds it between his feet.
I pull the headphones out of my ears, and feel the driver pull us into motion, “What are you doing? Jessica is going to flip that you’re sitting with me.”
“Oh who cares” Eric laughs and rolls his eyes, “Megan, please. I don’t care if Jessica is mad at me. This is ridiculous.”
“Not to her.” I say in a hushed whisper, “You should move.”
“You should relax.” Eric says leaning back in his seat, “Besides, I want to have a chat with you.”
“About what?” I ask, knowing exactly what he is referring to.
“You know what.” Eric says and shifts in his seat to face me, “Ben was devastated when he left yesterday. I had never seen him so tortured. Don’t think he took off because he doesn’t care about you.” I roll my eyes and put my headphones back in my ears, but he yanks them out, “Seriously Megan, you can be really quick to shut people out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask narrowing my eyes at him.
“Look at how you are acting right now.” he laughs. I let out an exasperated sigh because I know he is right.
“Well what am I supposed to do? He is the one who took off.” I cross my arms in front of my chest with a pout.
“You are the one that ended things with him. Why would he want to stay?” Eric innocently asks.
“Excuse me? I am far from the heartbreaker here. We should have never crossed that friendship line. Biggest. Mistake. Ever.” I say and let out a much-needed sigh.
“You can’t expect me to believe that.” He laughs, “I had never seen either of you act so love struck as you did on this trip. Besides, I suspected the whole time that something was going on.”
“Oh please” I say rolling my eyes, “You knew shit.”
Eric imitates Ben with a chuckle in his voice: “Oh Megan needs to go back and find her purse…oh I am too tired to come out with you guys…oh Megan let me order your drink.... oh I can’t come for dinner, I promised Megan I would take her turtle watching.”
“We always do stuff together without you guys. That’s nothing new.” I say un-amused.
“Does Ben always shave his balls before he hangs out with you?” Eric says trying not to laugh.
“That’s disgusting!” I shout and punch Eric in the arm, although I do want to share in his laughter, especially when I think how Ben never once had an ounce of hair down there.
“Yeah it was” Eric laughs, “Especially when it was all over the bottom of our shower.”
I roll my eyes, “We were fine being just friends you know.”
“Friends who secretly wanted to bang each other.” Eric chuckles.
“I don’t think so.” I snap back. “He just couldn’t handle that I was the only woman left in the greater Chicago, Illinois area he hadn’t slept with.”
“Oh come on. You can’t expect me to believe that. You are not just some girl to him Megan.”
“Really? Did he tell you that?” I cynically snort.
“What more do you want from him?”
“I want him to stop being such a man-whore and grow the fuck up,” I shout in a hushed whisper. Phew. That felt great to let out.
“Don’t you dare even start with that - you knew his past way before you decided to hop in the sack with him” Eric scolds tapping his foot on the floor.
“Whatever” I wave my hand dismissively “It’s over anyway.” I sigh and slouch in my seat.
“Well I beg to differ.” Eric says crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Yeah, well you would.” I groan annoyed by this ridiculous brotherhood crap Eric is laying on me right now.
“Well what are you going to do about work? You two practically share the same desk.” He reminds me.
I wince on the inside but coolly shrug on the outside. I had never thought of that little implication before…
“Well I don’t know what to tell you.” I say.
“You are being difficult, you know that right?” He says and I turn red.
“This conversation is over.” I snap and shove my headphones back into my ears.
Eric rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat. I look away from him and stare helplessly out the window. He does raise a good point. What will happen once I get back to Chicago and am forced to see Ben at work? Uggh! I want to be at home in my condo lounging in my flannel pajamas and eating a box of Dad’s Oatmeal cookies properly sulking in my own heartbreak and misery. Because even though I know I should snap out of this funk; right now, I just don’t want to.
Chapter 21
When I wake up the next morning, I am thrilled to be in my own bed. My first instinct is to throw off my sheets, put on a sharp blazer, hop on the subway and head off to work. But then my second instinct rolls around about fifteen seconds later, whacks me over the head and reminds me there is a consequence of actually going into the office: I’ll be forced to see Ben. I recognize I am being a tad over dramatic and truth be told, I can’t avoid him forever. But I can’t fathom my reality right now. I would rather hide out in my condo and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist, and that Jessica didn’t hate me, and that Ben didn’t dis me entirely by boarding an early flight.
Instead I call in sick and make up some lame excuse about having traveler’s diarrhea. Then I fumble my way into the bathroom, brush out my bed head and wash away my mascara ridden raccoon eyes. It doesn’t take long after that for me to treat myself to a pity parade. I find my way into my kitchen, chow down on a whole box of Oreo cookies and pound back a pint of freezer burnt cookie dough ice cream. My stomach moans and groans, then bloats up like a balloon. I walk helplessly into my b
edroom, close my blinds and bury my head into my pillows to create a world of darkness and sob. But even after some good dry heaves, a full box of Kleenex, and a “Big Bang Theory” marathon on Comedy Central, I still feel like I am being somewhat of a loser. I feel guilty for taking a fake sick day, especially after I just took a week off. But more importantly I feel pathetic about moping around like a heartbroken hormonal adolescent.
I decide to check in with fellow realtor/friend, Emily Waterford, who covered for me all week while I was away. Her chipper voice beams through the line, and cheerfully informs me we closed three properties and I picked up six new listings. But before I can even ask her any follow up questions, Emily blurts out that one of my new properties is a multimillion-dollar listing in the Gold Coast district. I nearly drop my phone on the hardwood floor and grab onto my nightstand to stop myself from keeling over.
“Really?” I squeal.
“Yes really!” Emily shouts. She’s so loud, I have to pull the phone away from my ear, “The lady who owns the property said she heard you were the best and only wanted you on her listing.”
I jump and down and bite my tongue just so I don’t let out one too many ridiculous shouts of joy. I dance around my bedroom and celebrate in my cozy pyjamas. This news brings on my first real wave of happiness in the past few days. I’ve come so far in my career to land a property like that! I wish I could just hang up with Emily and call Ben to gush about this great accomplishment, but obviously that isn’t going to happen. I am sure he already heard about it anyway. News like that around our office doesn’t stay quiet for long.
“Well enough about work. How was the wedding?” Emily asks with her bubbly British accent.
