Following Isaac

by McMillin, Casey

  "Please think about what I said," he said.

  I let out a humorless laugh. "Don't worry," I said.

  Chapter 14

  Isaac

  I finished shooting at 7PM, but had to stick around afterward to talk to Johnny about what we could expect with the release of the ad campaign. He also wanted to show us a few of the best photos.

  I text Becca to let her know it'd be more like 7:30 when I finished. I hadn't heard back from her, but figured I'd see her in the lobby when we were done. Shane had plans with the models again, and gave me a bunch of shit about not agreeing to hang out with them. He was running his mouth about it when we walked through the lobby after the shoot. It wasn't quite 7:30, so I wasn't discouraged when I didn't see her the first time I scanned the room.

  "Mr. Charles," I heard someone say. I knew Becca wouldn't call me that. I assumed it was someone who recognized me, so I turned with a smile in the direction of the voice. It was one of the hotel employees. She was approaching me carrying a small plastic tray. It looked like she was handing me a bill, but as she got closer, I could see that it was an envelope with my first name handwritten on the front. I had the thought that it may very well still be a bill for something as I reached out and took it off the tray.

  "Thank you," I said hesitantly.

  She smiled. "Someone brought it in and asked us to deliver it to you while you were in the ballroom."

  I'd received letters at hotels in the past, but I knew in the pit of my stomach that this one was different. I smelled the faint scent of citrus that immediately reminded me of Becca, and I instantly began dreading what the letter would say.

  "Who's that from," Shane said, with a curt nod toward the envelope. His expression was already verging on satisfied as if he too sensed an eminent disaster was contained in this envelope.

  "I haven't opened it yet, have I?" I asked impatiently. The models were still going over photos with Johnny, and Shane was the only one with me. I was relieved that this was the case because I already felt like I wanted to hit something.

  "It's probably for the best," he said, as we rode up the elevator.

  "You don't even know what it is."

  "I know your girl wasn't in the lobby and there was an envelope in her place. I'm not a math genius, but…"

  I backhanded his shoulder.

  "Why don't you just read it?" he asked.

  "Because I don't really feel like it right now."

  "You gonna hang out with me and the girls tonight?"

  "Just shut-up Shane. I don't really want to think about it and we don't even know what's in this letter."

  Shane and I spent the rest of the ride in silence and made our way to the room, also without speaking. I went straight to my bedroom and closed my door, and as far as I knew, he did the same. I sat on the chaise lounge at the foot of the bed, set the envelope on the seat next to me, and rested my elbows on my knees as I contemplated opening it. I only thought about it for a few seconds before resolving to tear into it.

  There were two pieces of loose-leaf paper stacked on top of each other. The letter was written in neat script that spread over both pages. I did a quick, absentminded scan of it, trying to pick up clues about what it was about. Then I glanced down to the very end and saw that it was signed with the name Rebecca.

  I let out an exasperated sigh before returning to the beginning to start reading.

  Dear Isaac,

  I feel out of sorts at the sheer act of composing this letter because I still can't seem to make myself believe you'd even care if I showed up or not. I know you're thinking that we already addressed my insecurities and we thought I'd be able to work through them, but something happened after I left the hotel this morning.

  I gripped the paper tightly as ten different things crossed my mind about things that could have happened.

  I feel like I got to know you yesterday in a way that was very special and I'll never forget, but I wasn't entirely honest with you about some things.

  She had a boyfriend. I knew it. A wave of nausea hit me at the thought.

  I look at the picture I took with you and I just keep thinking what a faker I am. I'm not the girl in that picture, Isaac. I used to be an entirely different person. Someone you'd never go out with… but the thing is, I'm still that other person, and deep down I'll never be anyone else. Anyway, after I left this morning, I talked to a guy who's been in my life for months. He was with me when I was that other girl—the one you would have never noticed. I'm truly sorry for the bad timing, but I'm afraid I can't see you tonight. I would have loved to spend another night with you, but I have a shot at happiness with Mark, and think I shouldn't pass it up. You should know that last night with you was literally a dream come true. You've inspired me in ways you'll never know, and my night with you was something I'll remember for the rest of my life. I'm pretty sure I'll compare all future encounters to it and they will come up short. Thank you for that. Last night was a gift on so many levels. I'm sorry I delivered a note instead of telling you this myself. I should have been brave and hope that you can forgive me. I'm sorry I'm the one who canceled. It definitely should have been the other way around, and I totally know that. Thanks again for everything. I'll look back on last night with the fondest of memories, and hope the same is true for you. I'm excited to watch your career and keep up with your travels. You're just scratching the surface, and I know you'll be a great success. Keep being gorgeous and breaking hearts.

  Your friend and fan,

  Becca

  I barely even glanced at her signature before crumpling the paper into a wad of the fucking trash it was. Screw that. That is the most fucked up breakup letter I'd ever seen. I didn't even understand half of it. Was she with this fucking idiot Mark the whole time? I was so pissed off that I couldn't choose between setting the letter on fire or opening it to try to decipher what she was saying. Who was this other girl she was talking about? My first thought was that she was a criminal and had been in prison.

  I couldn't understand. I felt like I'd stared straight into the soul of Rebecca Gibson, and she was good. We were good. We were meant to be. She and I both knew it, which was why I was so shocked by the letter. I didn't reread it. I didn't burn it either. I left it balled up on my bed and walked out into the living room where Shane was watching TV. He stretched his hands out and smiled when I came into the room.

  "What's the verdict?"

  "I'm getting drunk."

  He smiled.

  "You can sleep it off on the plane. What happened with your girl?"

  "Don't call her that, and nothing. She couldn't fuckin' make it."

  He glanced at me like I was overreacting and I should lighten up. "Dude, she did you a favor. You know it's for the better."

  "It's not for the better. I wanted her."

  "You just want her because she's telling you no. If you would have tapped that last night you would have forgotten all about her by today."

  "That's not true."

  He chuckled at that. "So you musta tapped that, huh?"

  "Please shut-up about it, Shane, I'm pissed off right now."

  "You really need to step back and look at the situation," he said. "It's not that bad. It basically boils down to saying goodbye tonight or tomorrow morning."

  "I wasn't planning on saying goodbye in the morning."

  "We're flying home tomorrow, Isaac."

  "I know that, but I wasn't planning on leaving her. I wanted to work things out."

  Shane let out an uncontrollable sputter of a laugh, but his smile faded when he noticed that I wasn't amused. "Work things out?" he asked, sarcastically. "You live on opposite sides of the country, you just met her, and you rarely come to L.A. She did you a favor, dude, trust me."

  "Stop saying that. No she didn't."

  He stared at me. "What's the appeal? She's cute and everything, but I didn't think she was worth all this." Shane whirled his finger in my direction, indicating my frustrated state.

  "We
ll she is. I thought we were gonna work something out, and thought she knew it too." I stared into space, thinking about the conversation where we said we wanted to be with each other. I believed her when she said that, and thought it was fucked up that the reason for all of this was that she didn't believe me.

  Shane thrust a generous glass of whiskey in front of me, and I took it and knocked it back in one swallow.

  "Almost forgotten," he said, as he poured me another one.

  ***

  I was hung-over the next morning, and as a result, was a terrible traveling companion. It didn't help that I was still pissed off at Becca for giving up. Shane promised alcohol would erase everything, but he lied. It provided no relief for the nagging regret I felt—it might have even made it worse. I thought I saw forever when I looked into her eyes, and it meant nothing to her. If anything it helped her win that asshat named Mark.

  It wasn't just because I was usually the one leaving, either. That had nothing to do with it. It was that I thought Becca and I had something real—something different. Shane and I shared a cab into the city. My apartment was the first stop, and just before we got there, I pulled a small box out of my bag.

  "I wanted to give you this," I said.

  Shane clutched his hands to his chest and said, "Yessss!" in a girl's voice.

  I smiled and pushed the box into his chest, causing him to laugh and grab it.

  "Are you seriously giving me your Rolex, right now, dude?" he asked, before even opening it.

  "I don't need it," I said.

  "You could sell it."

  "Why when you want it?"

  He looked at me with skepticism like he was expecting me to take it back any second. "Are you freaking serious right now, boss?"

  "As a heart attack," I said.

  He hugged me as we pulled up in front of my apartment. We said a quick goodbye, and agreed to meet at the gym the next day. He thanked me again before the cab took off. It was blistery cold in New York, and I caught myself thinking about the weather out west. I was wearing a smile on my face when Shane left, but it wasn't real at all. I acted like Becca didn't effect me, because I knew Shane didn't understand, but truth was, I was in pieces.

  I had her phone number. I could just call or text her and try to talk everything out. I almost did it. I though about calling the whole time I unpacked, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Rejection sucked, and I didn't want to face it twice.

  I handled it the only way I knew how. I worked out. Disappointment would have eaten away at me if I didn't have the distraction. The only other way I could let her know how I felt was through Instagram. I knew she followed me, and hoped to get a message through to her without coming right out and saying it.

  I considered several possibilities, but settled on a shirtless selfie where I was giving the camera one pissed off middle finger. In fact, my hand and its raised middle finger was the most prominent feature in the picture by far, and the ticked off face I was making was slightly blurry and in the background. It was a cool photograph that spoke volumes about the way I felt right then. I put a black and white filter on it, which made it even more striking.

  I wrote a caption that said, "Fuck you for giving up." I almost called her out by name, but figured the photo and caption was enough. I mentally listed a few hashtags I could have included, but decided to keep it simple.

  I posted the picture, and felt a little better for doing it. I hoped she would see it and know what a mistake she made. People dealt with heartache all the time, and I knew it would get better, but for now, I really felt like shit for not having her. Screw me for caring. I wondered if I'd ever be able to forget her, and had the nagging feeling that she was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  The picture with me flipping off the camera turned out to be one of my most popular posts ever. People took the "Fuck you for giving up," as an inspirational quote that was meant to tell them to keep trying, and my photo got hundreds of comments about how inspiring it was. I had posted it a couple of days ago, but it still got comments. None of them were from Rebecca.

  I trained with Shane, same as usual, and didn't mention anything about her still being on my mind. I think he could tell something was still wrong with me, but he didn't bring it up. He made me agree to go out with him that coming Saturday night. I tried to refuse, but he wasn't having any part of it—said I had no choice but to go.

  Chapter 15

  Becca

  It was Tuesday afternoon when I brought that letter to Isaac's hotel. That was two days ago, and I was still stuck in a cloud of regret wondering what would have happened if I'd chosen not to write it.

  Isaac posted a picture of himself giving the camera the bird. In his caption, he called someone out for giving up. I thought it was safe to assume that was me, and as a result of the regret I felt about the whole situation, I'd been sick with stomach issues since I saw it.

  I told Mark I wanted to give things a shot with him, and that I didn't speak with Isaac anymore, but that I was sick with a stomach bug, and would be in bed for the next few days.

  It wasn't a stomach bug, but it was just as crippling. I ached with regret about giving up with Isaac, but I knew deep down I was doing us both a favor. Mark was a much better match for me. Isaac's job was to be surrounded by beautiful women, and I just wasn't ready to be thrust into the sort of self-assurance it'd take to be with a guy like him.

  Knowing it was a good move didn't change the fact that I was physically ill from ending things with him. I cried at the drop of a hat, and thought it was probably better for everyone if I just stayed in my room for a few days. I really didn't feel like talking about it, so Naomi thought I was sick. She'd planned on helping me get dressed to meet Isaac the other night but I told her I suddenly started throwing up. It was Thursday when she finally came by. I'd been by myself for the last two days, and didn't really feel like making conversation yet.

  "Are you really sick, or is this about Isaac?" she asked when I opened the door.

  I didn't even know where to start. I told her about spending the night with Isaac, but hadn't said anything since then. She didn't know anything about either guy. She thought I'd just gotten sick and couldn't talk about it. But when I didn't start talking after two days, she figured something was wrong.

  She came in and I explained the whole thing about Mark and the way he'd been interested this whole time. I told her that was why I didn't spend that second night with Isaac, and that I was sure it was the right decision in the long run.

  "…you know, since it was doomed in the first place."

  "Why do you say it was doomed?" she asked.

  "Because it was. The whole thing was an elaborate plan to make the chubby girl more appealing to the untouchable New York Nicky." His name came out in a frustrated tone that made Naomi regard me sadly.

  "Becks, I knew this was about you feeling like you don't deserve him, and honestly that makes me really sad. First of all, you were not the chubby girl. You looked great then, same as now. Second, so what if you planned on trying to go out with him and succeeded? That's a stupid reason to give up."

  "You're just saying that because that's what he wrote. It probably wasn't even about me."

  She put a hand on my arm. "Becks, I like Mark. I really do, he's a cool guy and a good catch." She hesitated, but continued, "But I have to be honest with you and tell you that you're mistaken if you think you're not good enough for Isaac Charles. If anything, you're too good for him, Becks, he'd be lucky to have you, and I think he knows that. A person is not defined by her size. You didn't work out and now you do. You used to weigh more than you do. So what?"

  I offered her a smile for being so sweet and trying to make me feel better, but nothing besides Isaac Charles in the flesh would have done the trick for me right then.

  She hung out for a little while longer before heading home. I really needed to go tend to and replace some of the flowers at The Crestwell, but decided to put it off till tomorrow. A
s a result of having no appetite whatsoever, I was now lighter than my goal weight. I wasn't trying to lose it this quickly, but I lost eight pounds since I wrote that letter, simply because I'd been too sick to eat. I choked down a handful of peanuts a few times a day just for some sustenance, but had no desire to chew or swallow food. I knew it would get easier, and I was looking forward to that time coming.

  I watched a movie on Netflix when Naomi left. It was filmed in L.A., and I liked to look for things I recognized. I was staring at the intersection trying to confirm the street name as a car zoomed across the screen.

  My phone rang. I assumed it was Naomi or my mother, so I was surprised when I glanced at it and saw numbers written across the screen rather than one of their names. The words New York, NY were written under the number, and my stomach instantly contracted into a thousand knots. It was stupid, but my first thought was that it was Isaac. I say it was stupid because I still had his number programed into my phone, and if it was him calling it would say Isaac rather than a random number.

  The phone rang while this thought ran through my mind. "Should I pick it up?" I asked out loud. Since I was alone, no one answered. I quickly pressed the button to answer the phone and I held it to my ear.

  "Hello?" I said. There was a pause, during which time I glanced at the phone to make sure we were connected.

  "Is this Rebecca?" I heard him say as I put it back to my ear.

  "Yes, may I ask who's speaking?"

  It was a guy's voice, but not Isaac's.

  "This is weird, but I need to make sure I have the right person, so are you the girl from L.A. who spent the other night with Isaac Charles? The one who left that letter?"

  I cringed at the word, thinking about everything I wrote. "Yes," I said simply.

  "I met you. I'm his friend Shane."

  "I remember."

  He sighed. "Listen, I don't know who you are or what kind of promises you two made each other, but you've got him messed up in the head, and I need you to fix it."

  I didn't expect him to quit talking, so when he stopped, I just sat quietly on the other end.