Giving me a devilish grin, Paul said, “Do you massage them?”
Confused I asked, “Do I massage what?”
Paul responded with a knowing look and it hit me. Giggling, I said, “Yes, I do not neglect the balls!”
“There’s your goodwill. My job is done.” Paul stood up. “Let’s go, Cohen. There’s a pint of chicken chow mein with your name on it.”
As I walked with Paul back in the house, I turned to him and said, “Ew, who ordered chicken chow mein?”
Fifty-two
After I finished packing to go home, I double checked the washer and dryer to make sure none of my G-strings had accidentally gotten stuck to the side of the machines and, hoping for a distraction, returned to the living room to see what everyone else was up to.
Hille was clearing out the refrigerator. “Anyone want any leftover steak and mushrooms before I throw it out?” he asked. When no one answered, he asked, “What about salad?” and looked around. “Guess not,” he said before chucking it all in the trash, plastic container and all.
Paul was collecting all the empty beer bottles and stacking them for recycling. He stood with his hands on his hips looking at the cardboard containers full of empties and muttered, “Bunch of drunks.”
Wearing headphones and bopping around the kitchen singing, “Under my umbrella. Ella, ella, eh eh eh,” oblivious to everyone else, Denise was emptying the dishwasher and putting all of the clean dishes back in the cabinets above the stove.
And Corky was outside on the balcony, picking up the cigarette butts that had never made it into the ashtrays. I watched him take a final drag of his own cigarette, throw it on the ground and step on it, only to pick it up a second later and throw it in the garbage bag.
As I climbed up and down the stairs to bring the bags of garbage to the side of the road, it occurred to me no one needed to be told to chip in cleaning the house—we all just took it upon ourselves to help out—and I tried to appreciate how well we all worked together as a team.
Later that night, when Eric blasted ‘Man in the Mirror’ and we all sang along like it was the best song since ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ I tried not to underestimate how blessed I was to have the most amazing friends in the world. And with Hope’s arm around me as we swayed back and forth singing “And no message could’ve been any clearer, if you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make the cha-ee-ange,” I tried to truly believe that I, Stephanie Lynn Cohen, was one pretty lucky chick.
But all I truly believed was my life sucked and Ryan was never going to call me back.
When I closed my eyes to go to sleep that last night in the Outer Banks, I imagined asking my fairy godmother to grant me not three, but a measly single wish—that I had never broken up with Ryan. And I drafted in my mind a persuasive essay to Mr. Rourke explaining why I deserved a spot on Fantasy Island; a place where Ryan would certainly forgive me for my sin. And I thought about how great it would be if I could just ask Bill and Ted to make one quick extra stop on their Excellent Adventure to 48 hours prior, before I had left that stupid fucking voicemail to Ryan.
In a last ditch effort, I sat up in bed and looked up to the ceiling. “Please God,” I whispered, looking over at a sleeping Denise. “Please let there be a message waiting for me from Ryan when I wake up. If you let Ryan call me, I’ll agree to gain five pounds I’ll never lose. And I’ll prematurely wrinkle. You can even give me a huge cystic pimple the day I get my period every month! Just please make Ryan call me back. Please.” Then I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
~ * ~
But after checking and double-checking my voicemail inbox the next morning, it was painfully clear that God was not interested in playing ‘Let’s Make a Deal’ with me and I spent the entire ride home staring out the window and wishing I was someone else.
Fifty-three
I dropped my suitcase in the doorway of my apartment and immediately called for reinforcements. “I need you,” I cried into the phone.
“What’s wrong? How was your trip?”
“Not over the phone. Can I come over?”
“Of course. But I thought you had plans with Ryan your first night back.”
Her words were like a dagger through the heart. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said before abruptly hanging up. I stared at the pile of mail I had received during the week. It could wait. I grabbed the keys I had just moments ago dropped on my coffee table and headed out. I paused briefly when I walked past my suitcase. I considered unpacking first but muttered, “Not now,” walked out of my apartment and locked the door behind me.
~ * ~
A half hour later when we were sitting in Suzanne’s living room, she said, “I told you he was gay!”
“No, you didn’t!” I bit the head off of one of the sour patch kids I had scooped from Suzanne’s candy bowl.
Suzanne pointed her finger at me. “Yes, when you told me he turned down your advances that first night in New York, I said he must be gay.”
“I thought you were kidding and it’s not really the point anyway. Ryan hates me. Do you have any more sour patch kids?”
Suzanne shook her head and said, “You finished them. I have sunflower seeds, though. Want some of those?”
Nodding, I said, “Yes. Thanks.”
When she got up to grab the sunflower seeds from the kitchen, I followed her. Taking the bag from her hand, I asked, “Where should I put the shells?”
Handing me a customized photo mug from her trip to Key West with Luke, Suzanne said, “In here.”
I glanced from the large bag of sunflower seeds to the small mug and figured I could always dump the shells in the garbage when the mug was full. I had a feeling I’d finish the entire bag. I turned the mug so the image of the smiling couple was facing away from me. “So, that’s it in a nutshell. I blew it,” I said.
“I concur,” Suzanne said matter-of-factly.
“Thanks for the support.”
“Don’t come to me if you want me to sugar coat things for you. What you did was completely self-destructive. I don’t know what you were thinking.”
We were back in the living room, sitting side by side on her coffee-colored leather couch. ‘60 Minutes’ was on the television, but it was muted. “I really thought Hille liked me,” I said. “He was acting so nice, Suze. And he was so attentive to my needs. I just read him wrong, I guess.”
With a furrowed brow, Suzanne asked, “But if you liked Ryan so much, why did you care how nice Hille was?”
My head hurt and I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples. “I don’t know, Suzanne. It’s like I lost all common sense. I swear, I don’t think I had any idea what I was doing. I’d like to say I was drunk and I was, but it wasn’t just that. It’s almost like I had brainwashed myself to think Hille and I should be together and even though I didn’t really want to break up with Ryan, I somehow truly believed I had to—like Hille and I were supposed to end up together. Even though I didn’t even want him anymore.” I opened my eyes and looked at Suzanne. “Does any of this make sense?”
Suzanne exhaled deeply. “If it was anyone else, I’d say absolutely not.” Then she shook her and head and smiled. “But you’re not like everyone else. So, yes, it sort of does make sense.”
The tension in my chest loosening slightly, I exclaimed, “Thank God! I don’t have the energy to try to explain it again.”
Suzanne placed her hand over mine and looked me dead in the eyes. “To me, maybe. But what about to Ryan?”
Removing my hand from Suzanne’s, I slid off the couch and onto her area rug, watching my fingers disappear into the black shaggy fabric. Pouting, I looked up at Suzanne and said, “Ryan doesn’t want to hear it. He didn’t call me back. Obviously he’s done with me.”
Standing up, Suzanne waved her finger in front of me and said, “That’s it? You’re just gonna give up?”
Looking up at Suzanne, I asked, “What am I supposed to do?”
Her eyes wide, Suzanne, in near-shout volume, exclaimed, “Call him again! Stephanie, you broke up with the guy to be with someone else. In a voicemail! That must have hurt. Did you really think it was gonna be that easy to straighten this out? Shit, Stephanie—you called the guy once. Once. I think you owe him another attempt.”
I wasn’t so sure. Looking at her pleadingly, I said, “Really? I won’t look pathetic?”
“No. You’ll look like you actually care about the guy!” Suzanne sat down on the rug facing me. Calm again, she said, “Seriously, you screwed up big time and, honestly, if he had made it too easy, he’d be the one looking a bit pathetic. Did that ever occur to you?”
It hadn’t. I hadn’t even thought of what Ryan must be feeling. I was such a bad girlfriend. “You’re so right. I can’t stand that I made him feel second best. Fuck.”
“So, you’ll call him again?”
My head was still in a fog thinking about how utterly self-absorbed I’d been but I nodded, “Yeah.”
“When?”
“Now.” It wasn’t as if the task would be easier tomorrow. “Will you sit with me? I’m scared.”
Standing back up, Suzanne said, “Yes. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.” She offered me her hand and when I took it, led me back to her couch.
I reached into my bag for my phone, saying one last silent prayer that Ryan had beaten me to it, but he hadn’t. So I wouldn’t have time to get too nervous or chicken out, I found his number and called him immediately.
When the phone rang three times, I was positive he was screening but then he answered with, “What do you want, Stephanie?”
At least he hadn’t deleted my number from his phone. Adopting a cheery voice and pretending I didn’t note the annoyance in his, I said, “Hi! I, uh, just wanted to make sure you got my message.”
“Which one would that be? Never mind, I got both.”
“Ryan, I didn’t mean it.”
“Which one didn’t you mean? The one when you broke up with me to be with another guy or the one when you changed your mind?”
Sniffling, I said, “The first one. I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
There was silence on the other end and I was about to apologize again when he finally said, “I forgive you, Stephanie.”
I whispered, “You do?”
“Yes. I accept your apology.”
Grinning broadly, I stood up and gave the thumbs up sign to Suzanne’s now smiling face. Thank God!
“But I have no desire to go out with you anymore,” he said.
My heart sank, along with my body, back onto the couch. “Oh. You don’t?”
“No. Listen, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we were serious anyway. We barely know each other. I appreciate the apology but it’s just not worth it. Good luck to you.”
I grabbed Suzanne’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
I silently pleaded with him to say ‘Just kidding. Of course I still want you.’ “Umm, I...” Think of something! Beg him to reconsider! “Good luck to you too,” I said.
“Bye, Stephanie.”
Before I could say my own goodbye, he hung up and, lips trembling, I looked at Suzanne’s concerned face and shook my head. “It’s done,” I said. “He doesn’t want to be with me anymore. He liked me so much and I fucked up. I wish I was dead.”
“Stephanie! Don’t ever say something like that. What did he say?”
“Basically he could care less. He said we weren’t serious anyway. It’s not a big deal. I feel so stupid.” Once again, a relationship had ended before it really began. And I’d never even assigned Ryan a nickname like ‘soccer guy’ or ‘the guidance counsel’ or even ‘my young boyfriend.’ He was just Ryan. Because, unlike the others, he mattered.
I pushed away the bag of sunflower seeds. I wasn’t hungry anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Stephanie. I wish I had something comforting to say but this just sucks,” she said.
Talking more to myself than to Suzanne, I said, “It’s no big deal. It’s just not worth it. That’s what he said. He doesn’t even care. I’d rather him hate me. He doesn’t even care.” I felt a rumbling in my lower stomach and bile in my throat and just wanted to go home. I got up from the couch and grabbed my cardigan from Suzanne’s kitchen. “Thanks for listening to me, Suze. And thanks for the food. I gotta go.” I started walking toward her front door.
Following me, Suzanne tapped me on the back causing me to turn around. “You gonna be okay? Luke should be home soon. We can drive you,” she said.
Shaking my head, I said, “No. I need to be alone for awhile. Thanks though.” Then I absently kissed her on the cheek and left.
As I walked to the Metro to get from Logan Circle back to Capitol Hill, I felt like I was at Ryan’s and my funeral watching a montage of scenes from our brief but fun-filled relationship. When I first saw his goofy grin at the book store. The first time he leaned in to kiss me when I was drunk from too much tequila. His laugh when I got mustard all over my pants at the Orioles game. The look on his face right before he ejaculated. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was everywhere. I even thought I saw him online as I walked past Subway and my heart stopped. I had really messed things up and the worst part was that it wasn’t even because of an honest mistake. I couldn’t justify my actions by saying at the time I thought I was doing the right thing because deep inside, I knew I was making a mistake. And I couldn’t look at the bright side—that I’d learned something and would not make the same mistake again—because the likelihood of being in a similar situation ever again was slimmer than Kate Moss on Weight Watchers. No, absolutely nothing good came out of this mistake. And besides the fact that I felt like someone ripped out my heart, pulled my hair really hard and kicked me in the gut all at the same time, I had hurt Ryan. I visualized his face when he listened to my first voicemail and wanted to shrink to nothing. How could I have been so oblivious to his feelings? I didn’t deserve Ryan, but I wanted him so badly. I wished he knew how truly horrible I felt and that I never wanted to hurt him. And I wished he knew how much I loved being with him—more than any other guy probably ever. Even more than wanting us to be back together, I wanted him to know I was sorry. Not just sorry for the ending of our relationship but for the decision leading up to it and for making him believe for one second I didn’t think he was the epitome of adorable awesomeness.
And then I wondered if I was over-reacting considering we had only been dating two months. Maybe Ryan really didn’t care and I was making more out of our relationship than there really was. He’d never met my family or even any of my friends. We’d never said ‘I love you,’ we never even discussed exclusivity, although I assumed it was a given. Maybe he wasn’t all that hurt by what I’d done. Maybe he really didn’t care. And maybe I shouldn’t either. But I did. A lot.
Fifty-four
I resumed my regular routine of going to the gym in the morning, working nine to ten hours during the day, coming home, micro-waving dinner, watching television and going to sleep. Insert missing Ryan and beating the shit out of myself for ruining everything whenever my mind was not otherwise occupied, and that was my daily schedule. The schedule varied only once or twice a week when “coming home, microwaving dinner and watching television” was replaced with dinner and drinks with Suzanne or people from work. I really had no desire to socialize but was trying to fake some semblance of normalcy, mostly for my mother’s sake.
It was a Monday afternoon and my mom and I were engaged in our daily afternoon phone call.
“Working late tonight?” she asked.
“Not sure yet. Too soon to tell if I need to.”
“Any plans?”
“Nope. I’m tired. I can’t wait to go home and watch ‘The Bachelor,’” I said.
“I guess you haven’t heard from him?”
I didn’t have to ask who she meant by ‘him’ and I felt my insides tighten. “No mom! I don’t expect to hear from him. There is
no reason for him to call.”
“I was just asking,” my mom said.
“Please don’t ask that anymore. Don’t you think I wish he’d call? He’s not going to and your asking is not gonna change that.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. Where does he hang out? Maybe you can just run into him.”
“And then what? Mom, please stop,” I pleaded.
“I just thought if you saw each other, you’d be able to talk face to face and maybe work things out. I’ll stop, though. I just hate seeing you this way. And I don’t like the idea of you going straight home from work every day. It’s not healthy.”
“It’s been less than two weeks, Mom. And I’m not going straight home from work every day. I’m going out with Suzanne tomorrow night.”
Just Friends With Benefits Page 26
