by Serena Grey
“Your mother’s just worried about you,” he tells me, when we join Laurie and Brett on the floor.
“I know,” I reply. “I’m not mad. It’s just… I’m fine, really.”
He nods, buying the lie, or at least pretending to. “Well then, let’s give your cousin and her fiancé a run for their money.” He signals to the band and they change the music to a livelier number, and somehow, for the rest of the evening, I’m able to let go of my pain and actually enjoy myself.
THE final consensus is that there’s going to be an engagement party on the coming weekend. We’re home on Sunday evening when Laurie receives the news while on the phone with her mother.
“What does an engagement party even mean?” She grumbles, pretending to be pissed, though I can clearly see that she’s enjoying all the attention. We’re eating chips from a bag, passing it back and forth while we watch a bunch of hot-ish guys talk about how excited they all are to be vying for one ‘lucky’ woman’s love.
“Usually it means parents want any excuse for a party,” I tell her, laughing. “But this time, it makes sense to have one. There’s bound to be a couple of people who won’t be able to make it to Barbados for the wedding.”
Laurie makes a face, then spends a long moment admiring the stunning yellow diamond on her finger. Brett had quickly remedied the absence of a ring during his proposal, and Laurie was in love with the spectacular ring he’d bought her. “Do you think it’s silly, going all the way to Barbados to get married when we could just go to Vegas and get done with it?”
“Of course not! Your Nana would never forgive you if you pulled a Vegas stunt. Neither would your mom or mine for that matter.” I shake my head, imagining the catastrophe that would result if she did something like that. “At least, nobody’s asking you to be part of the preparations for the engagement party. They’re probably having a swell time planning it.”
“I know.” She sighs and reaches for the bag of chips. I hand it to her, my eyes going back to the TV. One of the guys is earnestly telling the camera why he thinks he’s the right one for the woman in question. I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness.
“He still hasn’t called at all?” Laurie’s voice is soft.
I shake my head without looking at her. It’s been a week and one day now. “I don’t think…” I pause, willing myself to say the words without falling to pieces. “I don’t think he’s going to call again.”
Laurie is quiet. “I’m so sorry,” she says finally. “I thought… I really thought that if you told him how you felt…”
Frowning, I turn to face her. “It’s not your fault. You were exactly right. I had to tell him and I’m glad I did. Imagine if I hadn’t. I’d still be hanging on to him, losing a bit of myself every day. If I’d left him without letting him know that I was in love with him, then I’d be torturing myself with the questions, possibilities, and regrets, wondering if telling him would have made a difference.” I shrug. “Now I know for sure that the only way he wants me is if there’s no deep commitment.”
“It’s his loss,” Laurie declares, her voice defiant. “I was convinced that he had enough sense to have fallen in love with you, but if he can’t see what you’re worth then he doesn’t deserve you. You are beautiful, clever, funny, and all-round awesome. Landon Court has no idea what he’s lost.”
I only smile in reply. I’m grateful for her support, but somehow, it’s much better when I don’t talk about Landon at all. I think about him. I miss him. Sometimes, I allow myself to remember how it felt to be happy, in those blissful moments when I was actually happy with him. I will always have those moments to draw on, those memories to treasure, and there’s some sort of consolation that comes from that.
I FINALLY tell Joe that I don’t need him anymore. At first, he looks as if he’s going to argue and he actually follows me all the way to work, driving slowly beside me. He also does it on the way back home, and the next day too, but I ignore him.
And I do my best to stop thinking about Landon.
I see him everywhere I go. Sometimes, I feel as though he's only just a few feet away, on the other side of a crowd on the street. Every car that passes seems to be one of his. Every hazy face behind the tinted windows appears to be his face. I can’t seem to stop conjuring him into my consciousness.
But I have to, because I can’t continue to view my separation from Landon as temporary, and the sensible thing to do is to wean myself off everything that has to do with him.
I work feverishly, researching, writing, and editing articles with Mark, who welcomes my hectic pace and doesn’t hesitate to increase my workload.
Every day, I work until I’m exhausted, with barely enough energy to talk with Laurie when I get home. Luckily, she’s spending most of her time with Brett, so I don’t have to pretend all the time that I’m not fighting the huge block of unhappiness weighing me down.
Every day ends the same, with me trying to sleep, while my lack of Landon tortures me in my dreams. Every song takes on a new meaning and even my favorite books lose their appeal. I wake up every morning with tears on my cheeks and an ache in my heart, and even though I tell myself that it’s getting better, that I’m getting better, it takes all my strength to push myself out of bed and go on with my life.
One morning, Joe isn’t waiting for me downstairs. The absence of the car on the street outside my building is like the final note in the sad song of my relationship with Landon. Proof that as far as he’s concerned, we’re really over.
For a long moment, I stand at the door of my building, looking out at the empty street, a shaft of pain lancing through my heart. I want to go back upstairs, curl up in my bed and cry until there are no tears left, but somehow, I command my body to move, to take the steps to the sidewalk, and then to work.
It’s all right, I tell myself over and over. Even if Landon doesn’t want to have a place in my life, he’ll always have a place in my heart. And that’s alright.
EVERYTHING blurs into work and sleep, and the temptation to call Landon. I want to tell him that I understand why he’d want to end things, but that I would have appreciated it if he’d chosen to tell me to my face. Then I remember the way I left him in San Francisco while he was asleep. I’d been so sure that it was the right thing to do. It made sense at the time to give him the space to decide for himself that he wanted to be with me, above anything else.
Now, I’m no longer sure of anything. Just like the song, I’d left my heart in San Francisco, and it had come back to me, bloody and broken.
One day, the pain will dull. It’s what I tell myself, with more hope than any kind of certainty.
My mom has been calling almost every day to ask how I am and chatter about party plans. I suspect she’s actually calling to make sure I’m all right, but I don’t mind. The distraction helps. Most times, I check my emails while we talk, and today in particular, she’s going on about some artist friend of hers who might be at Laurie’s engagement party, when I open and read a strange email from The Gilt Review.
At first, I think it might be information about my subscription to the magazine, and I have to bite back my shock when I see that it’s a response to my application, from two years ago. I frown at the screen, unsure if the invitation to schedule an interview is a mistake.
“Are you there, sweetheart?” I hear my mom say.
“Yeah…” I’m still frowning. “Something came up mom, I’ll call you back.”
When she’s off the phone, I read the email again, unsure what to think. It’s from someone called Liz Buckley, one of the senior editors over at Review. Certain that there’s been some kind of mistake, I call her office, and she confirms that they want me to come in for an interview.
It’s always been my dream to work at the Gilt Review, and I’d continued to nurse that dream after I applied there, but got the job at Gilt Traveler instead. I always assumed that one day, when I made editor, I would apply again, but I never expected them to invite me for an interview t
wo years later, without any effort on my part. I can almost swear that something like this has never happened before.
Yet, I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially with everything else that’s going on in my life. I need a change of environment. I need the feeling of starting afresh, even if it’s only on a different floor. By the time I leave for home at the end of the day, I’m already looking forward to my interview, hoping that I’ll get the job, and that the new set of challenges and responsibilities will help me to stop dwelling on Landon Court.
THE next day, I run into Jack Weyland in the ground floor lobby on my way out to lunch. I haven’t seen him since the night he kissed me outside Landon’s club, but I’m still pissed at him. So when I see him across the wide marble space staring at me, I look away and keep walking.
He catches up with me outside the building and falls into step beside me. “Hello, Rachel.”
“Hi Jack,” I say dryly, letting my voice communicate how much I don’t want to talk to him.
“Come on.” He stretches his hand out to stop me. “Rachel, can I just have a minute?”
Without stopping, I pull my arm out of his reach. “Don’t touch me.”
He swallows and steps back. “I’m sorry.”
I sigh, sorry for snapping at him, but convinced that he deserved it. Slowing down, I turn to face him. “What do you want, Jack?”
“To apologize about the other night.” He looks contrite. “I really am sorry.”
I pause for a moment before giving him a small nod. “Okay. Can I go have my lunch now?”
“Can we at least talk?”
“No,” I exclaim with a grimace, turning on my heel and starting to walk again.
He follows me. “Please,” I hear him say. “Let me join you. I just want to apologize.”
I don’t reply, but I don’t tell him to get lost either, so he follows me all the way to the deli around the corner from the office. We used to eat there together all the time, in those days when I was still waiting for him to realize that he loved me.
Now I guess he had, but it was too late, for both of us.
We make our orders, and while we’re waiting for the food to arrive, I give him an impatient glare from across the table.
“I don’t know why you need to make a big ceremony out of apologizing,” I say. “Seriously.”
Jack is quiet. “I meant what I said that night,” he starts, “about my feelings for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Not again, Jack. I can’t do this again.”
He holds up a hand. “I know. I just wanted you to know that I didn’t say those things because I was jealous of Court, or the fact that you were happy. I meant them.” He closes his eyes and gives me a small, sad smile. “I’m leaving Gilt.”
“Oh!” I can’t hide my shock. He’s been at Gilt Traveler for far longer than I have. He is one of our most talented and well-traveled writers, and he actually knew how to write. I frown, not sure that I understand. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I need a change of scene, I guess.”
Did that have anything to do with me? It’s strange to think that his feelings for me could be so intense that he couldn’t stand to work in the same building. What an irony that would be, I think uncomprehendingly, before dismissing the idea. There was bound to be another reason.
“Where will you go?”
“I have a deal to extend my three episode specials to ten episodes seasons. So I’m moving to LA. I’ll be working more closely with the producers anyway. I might as well take the distance out of the equation.”
“Of course.” His TV appearances had been remarkably successful. I imagine all the dangerous things he’ll have to do, year after year. All the places he’d have to travel to keep people interested in watching him on TV, but that was what he loved doing, so I guess it wasn’t such a bad deal.
“I’m thinking of writing a book too,” Jack continues. “I’ve had enough experience to write a few, I think.”
I nod. “You’re a great writer. I’d read anything you wrote.”
There is a small pause. “It’s really nice to hear that,” he says.
Our food arrives, and while we eat, we talk about what his life will be like in LA. There’s an undercurrent of sadness in our conversation, but I choose not to dwell on it, concentrating instead on how change really was the only constant thing.
“I got an email today,” I mention, deciding to tell him about my invitation from the Gilt Review. “I have an interview with the Review. The strange thing is I didn’t reapply. Somehow, they responded to my application from two years ago.”
Jack raises an eyebrow, then chuckles. “I guess my mom really liked you.”
His mom? I remember that strange evening with Gertrude Weyland that ended with Jack trying to kiss me on the street. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been in talks to take over as the new editor of Review. She finally said yes, last week, I think. She’s been reviewing files from home. Maybe after talking to you she decided that she wanted to work with you.”
I shake my head. I’d thought his mother had a certain charm despite the weird relationship with her son. However, what would it be like to actually work for her? And was I sure I wanted to find out?
“Is that why you’re leaving Gilt?” I ask Jack. “You don’t want to work in the same building as your mother?”
He shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” After a pause, he continues. “So will you take the job if you get it?”
I think about it. “Most likely, though I don’t understand at all.” I give him a look. “Should I be worried?”
“Jessica Layner won’t want to let you go, but if she does, my mother would be a fool not to do everything to make sure you stay with her. You’re an asset at Traveler. You’ll be invaluable to Review and she’d be lucky to have you.”
I smile, touched by his encouragement. “Thanks.”
His eyes linger on my face for a long moment. I’m done with my food, and I know that it’s time to go back, to walk away, not just from the restaurant, but from Jack.
“I hope it works out in LA,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he grins, then sobers and reaches across the table for my hand. “I hope you’ll be happy,” he says. “You deserve it, and if Court gives you that, then I wish you all the best.”
I look down at his hand over mine on the table, tempted to tell him that Landon and I are no longer together. I’m feeling emotional, from saying goodbye to Jack, and from the reminder about Landon and his long, painful silence.
“Thanks,” I smile at Jack again, sure that my eyes are glistening. I pull my hand back from his and get up. “Thank you, Jack.” I put some money on the table before I go, leaving him sitting there, sure, but not necessarily regretful, that we will never have another intimate conversation ever again.
“I’M going to move in with Brett,” Laurie tells me on Thursday evening. She looks worried, unsure of how I’ll react. “He asked and I said yes.”
It’s day twelve after Landon, and while I’m still feeling tender, I’ve been trying to concentrate on all the things I can still look forward to and anticipate with pleasure. My interview, for example, as well as Laurie’s engagement party, and the wedding.
“When did this happen?” I ask, delighted for her.
“Today at lunch.” She smiles, “You know the gym has been growing.”
“Yes.” They’d recently opened two more locations, and with his business partner, Brett had developed a line of fitness products and videos that had been getting rave reviews.
“Well, with the success of the gym, the bigger apartment, and us getting married, he thinks it’s time.”
I nod, already missing her. “It’s what you want too, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad then.” I smile at her, then cast one look around the living room of our apartment, the home we’ve shared for two years. “Everything’s changing,” I say with a sad smile. “I’m hap
py, but it’s scary.”
Laurie nods, agreeing with me. “I’ll miss living with you.”
“Me too.”
“Will you be alright?”
I shrug. “I’ve been planning to kick you out forever so I don’t have to watch those awful reality shows.”
“You love them,” she says with a playful grin. “You’ll watch them when I’m gone.”
“Only when I miss you.”
“Probably all the time.”
Suddenly we’re both crying, happy and sad at the same time.
“Being grown up is so weird,” Laurie says finally. “Everything was so much easier when we were kids.”
Later in bed, I’m thinking of all the ways my life is going to change, when I get an alert on my phone. It’s one of the email notifications I set up for news about Landon. I’m tempted to open it, to read about what he’s up to, to feast my eyes on the pictures of him and wonder what he’s thinking, and if he thinks about me at all.
I resist the temptation, and before I go to sleep, I delete all the alerts and notifications I set up for him. I won’t be reading about him anymore. I won’t continue to torture myself by dwelling on him. There’s simply no need.
ON Saturday, Laurie and I go upstate. The cab drops me off at my parents’, before taking her the further twenty minutes to her parent’s home, where the engagement party is holding. I’m spending the night at home, and then we’re all going together to Uncle Taylor’s and Aunt Jacie’s in the morning.
My dad stays in his study most of the day, and my mom is on the phone with Aunt Jacie, and with vendors, making last minute preparations. I remain in my old room until my brother Dylan arrives, and we stay up most of the night watching movies and snacking.
