by Virna DePaul
I stand outside my office as I listen to Ryland and Julia talk. She’s obviously not interested, but when Ryland suggests that they go talk somewhere private, she doesn’t refuse. I know I shouldn’t, but I follow them with silent steps. I wait until they close the door of the empty office across the hall, and then I step up to the door and listen.
At first I only hear murmurs and maybe some sighs. But then Ryland’s voice rises in volume bit by bit, until I can hear him telling Julia that he has feelings for her. At this point I’m clenching my jaw so hard that my teeth ache. My heart’s pounding and I’m very close to storming in there and beating the shit out of Ryland.
Instead, I stand and listen, my heart sinking with every moment. Although she tells Ryland that she’s uninterested, he tells her I’m just a playboy who will abandon her. Hurt her, just like all the other women I’ve hurt.
I’m very well aware of my past, and I’m not proud of it. Not so much the sleeping around part, but using women and discarding them? I regret hurting all of them.
My heart soars a little when Julia defends me. But then Ryland uses his last grenade, telling her I’m sick all the time and she doesn’t want to be with a man like that. I’m breathing hard, and I feel dizzy. But I can’t leave. I keep listening, even though every word I hear is like another nail in the coffin.
Julia doesn’t reply to this last part of Ryland’s speech.
Not quickly enough.
I’m pissed. Not at Julia but at Ryland. At myself.
I can’t listen to this any longer. I stalk off, anger and sadness and heartache coalescing in my chest, heavy and oppressive. All of my fears spring to the surface: that she deserves a healthier man than me and a man who doesn’t have as marred a past as I do. Maybe she isn’t having doubts about our relationship, but eventually she will. For God’s sake, Ryland Masters is a fucking rock star, and although Julia is still running from her past, she loves music. Ryland can help her get back into pursuing the life she’s always dreamed of.
I get to my office, my vision hazy.
In less than a minute, Julia’s standing in my open doorway.
“Hello, Julia,” I say, my voice stiff and distant. “Why are you here?”
Julia
At Bastian’s greeting, I’m a little hurt that he doesn’t touch me or kiss me or ask how I’ve been. I wonder if I did something wrong in coming here.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
He shrugs. “I’m tired, but getting better. You didn’t have to come here to ask that, you know.”
My legs feel like jelly, and I sit down in the chair across from him, setting the lunch bag on Bastian’s desk. “I just wanted to see you. Was that the wrong thing to do?”
He sits down from across from me. He runs his fingers through his hair, and while he may be getting better, I can see he’s still not 100 percent. I hate the thought that he may have another relapse because he pushed himself too hard and too early.
But he doesn’t answer my question. He grimaces, rubs his forehead, and then sighs. The anticipation is painful, and I begin to suspect he saw Ryland and me together. That he might have seen and heard things and misinterpreted them. I’m about to tell him Ryland can shove off when Bastian says the words I’ve feared from our first date: “I think we need to take a break.”
“Take a break…?” I repeat.
“From our relationship, that is.”
His voice is steady—too steady. I just stare at him. My mind won’t latch on to his words, and they fall by the wayside, like leaves blown from a tree. They spin and spin, but they still don’t make sense until some moments later.
He wants to end things. He doesn’t want to be with me anymore.
“Why?” My voice is shaky.
“I just think we’re not compatible.” When he sees my stricken expression, he explains, “We have great physical chemistry. But you’re younger than me, and you have a different life path ahead of you.”
I can’t look at him now. I look at the lunch sitting on his desk, and I remember putting it together this morning. Was it just this morning? Now it seems like years ago. This morning I was excited to bring my boyfriend lunch at his work—and now he wants to break up with me.
It’s too much. Ryland just insulted and kissed me, and now Bastian has decided to end our relationship without even telling me he was concerned about something?
I clench my fists so hard my hands hurt. “So that’s it? Because you’re bored or whatever, it’s over. I don’t get any say at all?”
He frowns. “I never said anything about being bored.”
“No, you gave bullshit excuses that make zero sense. What are you? Thirty? I’m only a few years younger than you.” I stand up then, not willing to look up at him. I place my palms flat on his desk and lean toward him; I know I’m turning red, but I don’t care.
“How about you be honest and tell me the real reason you’re doing this?” I say in a low voice.
Bastian
Julia’s leaning toward me, a glorious fire in her eyes, and I can only wonder how in the world I’m going to live my life without this beautiful woman. “I heard you with Ryland.”
She frowns and straightens. “Bastian, it wasn’t what it seemed. I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t,” I say gently. “I heard him propositioning you. Heard you turning him down.”
She shakes her head. “Then I don’t understand. Why are you—why are you looking at me the way you are?” She blinks, as if she’s trying to stop herself from crying. As if she can already sense what’s about to happen.
“Because he was right. You do deserve a better man than me. A man who isn’t constantly becoming ill, who has no hope of being cured and will only drag you down. I can’t guarantee that you wouldn’t be nursing me for months out of the year. What kind of life would that be for you?” What if I have such a long relapse that she has to take care of me 24/7? I could insist on hiring a nurse, but I know Julia well enough now that she’d sacrifice anything to care for someone who needed help—even at the expense of her own time and energy and goals.
“So you just assume I’m shallow enough to dump someone because they’re sick? I feel so honored.”
“No. I’m saying I’m too shallow to let you do it. I’d rather have a string of casual hookups than subject you to life with a sick man. And while you might say you’re willing to take your chances, you don’t take chances, Julia. You stick with what’s safe. And I’m not going to be another safety net for you.”
“What?” she breathes.
“What happened to you in college sucked, but you’ve spent the past five years working in a grocery store because you’re too scared to move on.”
“I’ve spent five years working at Cooper’s because Mr. Cooper took a chance on me. Because I’m loyal. I like my job. Maybe not all the time, but who does?”
I shake my head. “You don’t deserve a job you like most of the time, Julia. You deserve a job you love. You deserve to go back to school and pursue your dreams. Ryland can help you with that. What you don’t deserve is a future with a guy who will only bring you down.”
“You’re not—you’re not a guy who’ll bring me down. You’re amazing. Successful and kind. Funny. I love being with you. In fact, I think I—”
“Stop,” I say quickly, knowing what she’s going to say and also knowing I can’t hear her say it. Not and continue doing what I need to do. That’s how much I know I love her. I have to set Julia free so she can fly. “You set the parameters yourself, Julia. We keep things casual, and then when I’m ready to move on, I’m honest about it. This is me telling you I’m ready to move on. Please don’t make things complicated by asking me for more than I want to give.”
She’s staring at me with wide, disbelieving eyes and struggling to hold back her tears. At the sight of how upset she is, I almost give in, but I can’t. I just can’t.
“I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first p
lace.” The words are harsh, in particular because they’re true. I’d told myself that we couldn’t be together for this very reason, but I went against my better judgment. Now look where we are. I’m hurting her and breaking my own heart.
Her bottom lip trembles. “That’s it, then? You’re throwing us away because you think someone like Ryland Masters knows what he’s talking about?” She steps away, shaking her head. “I wanted to keep things casual so as to avoid heartbreak. But look where I am now. And you know what the best part is?”
I shake my head.
“I am in love with you. You didn’t want me to say it, but there it is. I’ve probably been in love with you since the first day you came into Cooper’s looking for vitamins. Before you knew I existed, I loved you.” Now the tears are falling fast and freely, sparkling in the light of the office. “How’s that for hilarious? The man I love thinks I’m too shallow to stay with him because he has lupus.”
I stalk from behind my desk, taking her by the arms. I’m breathing hard, and I’m such a mixture of anger and sadness that I can barely think straight. But all I see is Julia’s tear-streaked face, and a tiny whisper in my mind wonders if I’m doing the right thing.
“Listen to me,” I say in a low voice, holding her to me. I can feel her pulse pounding in her wrists. “I love you, Julia Rominger. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that the thought of letting you go kills me. But that’s why I’m doing it: because you deserve better. You’re brilliant. For God’s sake, stop being a coward. Stop playing it safe. You can go back to school and finish your degree and live the life you were meant to live. I refuse to hold you back from that. You owe it to yourself to become the woman you set out to be in the first place.”
“How can I go through life without you?” She’s shaking now, her voice soft and devastated. “How can I go back to school without the man I love? How is that supposed to be better than what we have now? I’d rather work at Cooper’s for the rest of my life and be with you than achieve my dreams but not have you be a part of that.”
I let go of her. Her words are exactly what I wanted to hear, and I’m disgusted with myself. I have to end this. I turn away from her, saying the words but unable to look her in the eye as I do. “I’m sorry, Julia. I’ve made up my mind. Please know I wish you well.”
She doesn’t say anything. She’s silent so long, I finally turn, and her eyes are wide. She bites her lip, choking back a sob. Grabbing the bag that she’d placed on my desk, she shoves it at me. “I made you lunch today. I wanted to surprise you because I wanted you to know that I care about your well-being. I made you your favorite kind of sandwich, but you know what?” She shoves the bag against my chest until I’m sure the sandwich is crushed. “I hope you choke on it, you spineless asshole.”
I realize then that she’s leaving. She’s leaving and she’s not coming back. I whirl her around and kiss her, crushing her to my chest despite the lunch bag between us, like I want to imprint her on my entire body. She groans deep in her throat, and then we’re kissing like maniacs. We can’t stop touching each other, and hands are everywhere: in hair, running down torsos, gripping hips and asses. Our mouths are desperate, and we kiss and kiss until we have to gasp for air. It’s the most intense kiss I’ve ever experienced.
I never want it to end.
I keep saying her name over and over again, but only in my head. Julia, Julia, Julia. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.
The kiss softens, and then she’s pulling away. She looks up at me with tired, sad eyes, and then she devastates me further by kissing me on the forehead. “Be happy, Bastian,” she says quietly.
Then she leaves, closing the door with a soft click behind her.
I don’t know how I long I stand there, staring at the closed door. I hear my phone ring, but I can’t pick it up. I take a step, and I hear a crunch: the lunch she’d brought me is on the floor, crushed and ruined. I pick it up and take it over to my desk. Opening it, I pull out a smashed sandwich wrapped in foil and a small side salad. I slowly unwrap the sandwich, and even though it’s crushed and the bread is soggy from the smashed tomato and the mustard has gotten all over the foil, I start eating it.
It tastes like home.
It tastes like love.
Chapter 24
Julia
Time moves with a slowness that is painful. I can barely remember what day it is, whether or not I have to work, whether or not it’s been a day or a week or a month since Bastian broke up with me.
I’m in a fog. I hand out samples at Cooper’s and I listen to people say things to me, but nothing registers. I’m a robot, just going through the motions because I know I have to. Even when She-Hulk gets mad at me, I just tell her I’ll try harder and then proceed to keep doing what I’ve been doing.
Finally, Kevin tells me after work that we’re going to his place for a girls’ night: chick flicks, ice cream, and no talking about boys. I really don’t want to be with anyone tonight, but Kevin’s so worried about me that I tell him I’ll go for a little while. It’s the least I can do, since I’ve been the most useless friend to him lately.
I make sure to bring a few pints of Ben & Jerry’s with me to Kevin’s. He has an entire collection of chick flicks, and although he has a number of my favorites, none of them sound appealing. I don’t want to watch a romance and I don’t want to be reminded of how I told Bastian I loved him and then he threw it back in my face.
We haven’t talked since that day in his office. I almost texted him a day later, telling him that I didn’t want things to be over. Getting drunk later that week, I was about to call a cab to take me to his house, but then Kevin stopped me. I was so desperate, so in love with him still, that I didn’t care about my dignity. I just wanted to be with him again, and to makes things right.
Kevin and I settle into the couch to watch Sleepless in Seattle. But I can’t pay attention to Tom Hanks or Meg Ryan. My ice cream is tasteless. I just want to sleep for the rest of the week. Maybe for the rest of the year, because maybe then I won’t hurt like this anymore.
With every day, I get slightly better. I crack a smile here and there, and I think about Bastian only every twenty seconds as opposed to every ten. I also stop looking for him every time I’m working, even though a very stupid part of me hopes he’ll come into Cooper’s looking for vitamins like old times. But he never shows, and I continue to hand out random samples, my life almost like it was before Bastian became a part of it. The only thing that’s changed? My mom’s met someone. A guy from the gym she joined recently. He’s recovering from his own battle with cancer, and somehow he’s brought something softer out in my mom. In contrast to my own misery, she’s happier. She even took the time to ask about me, whether I’m happy, whether I’ve met anyone, and, teary-eyed, I had to rush her off the phone with the promise that I’d be in touch. And I will, as soon as I feel up to it. Until then, I’ll let her enjoy her time with her new beau even as I try to recover from my broken heart.
It’s nearing fall now and the leaves are changing. I normally love this time of year, but now it just reminds me that time has passed without Bastian beside me. I clutch my pumpkin spice latte as I walk back to work, and suddenly my favorite drink is as flavorless as sand. Before I get inside, I toss it into the garbage and vow never to drink one again.
A few days before Halloween, Kevin tells me we’re going out dancing. I’m reluctant, but if I can credit Kevin with anything, it’s his stubbornness. We go to a divey club downtown, and I end up dancing the night away, feeling freer than I have in weeks.
But as I’m lying on Kevin’s couch afterward, still semi-drunk, I can only repeat Bastian’s words in my head: For God’s sake, stop being a coward. Stop playing it safe. You can go back to school and finish your degree and live the life you were meant to live.
The words have been coming back to me more and more often lately. I’ve refused to consider his suggestion until recently, though sometimes I want to take that next ste
p. But when I looked into reapplying, it seemed so complicated that I shut the tab on my browser, vowing never to look again.
Staring up at the ceiling, I know he’s right. I hate that he’s right, but I know he is. The reason I haven’t gone back to school isn’t because of time, or money, or anything practical: it’s because I’m scared of failing a second time. I’ve let my past dictate my future, allowing what happened to spread to the rest of my life. I’ve felt like the biggest coward for dropping out of school and never returning, but can I really let a stupid mistake from five years ago influence everything I do from now on?
I begin to research reapplying in more depth. I look at deadlines, retaking the SAT, and how to order transcripts. But it doesn’t feel real until I start crafting my entrance essay, explaining my reasoning behind wanting to return.
I show a draft to Kevin to hear his thoughts. He frowns at the paper I’d handed him, making random noises as he reads it, and then reads it again. He looks up at me, furrows his eyebrows, then returns to the page at hand.
“Well?” I ask impatiently. “Do you have any suggestions, or are you just going to keep hemming and hawing like that?”
He makes another “hmmmm” sound, which prompts me to pinch him. He yelps. Then he hands me back the paper and says frankly, “This isn’t it at all.”
I look at the paper in my hand. “What do you mean? Is it that bad?”
“It’s not bad at all. It’s a good essay. But it’s not honest.” Kevin sits down in his big green chair in his living room, and I take a seat across from him.
“Are you going to stop talking in riddles or tell me what you really think?” I know I sound impatient, but I don’t care at this point.
“You completely avoided talking about what happened when you left.” I still at the reminder of how weak I’d been. “You keep sidestepping it, which doesn’t work. It looks like you’re hiding something, when you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
