Love Bites

“It means that you’ve been home for months, you’re not working, you’re not attempting to find work, and you’re living down in Cape Cod, away from everyone.” Renee looked down at the floor nervously. She hated confrontation. “It’s like… you’re not even trying to adjust. Like you don’t want to be here.”

“Well, truthfully, I don’t.” I sighed. “I miss LA. A lot. And I miss…”

“David?”

And there it was, the elephant in the room. Even though Renee and I had made up and moved on, we’d never talked about it. Sure, we’d briefly talked about it, but we’d never really talked about it.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I miss him. Every day.”

Her face softened. “Why don’t you ever mention him?” she asked. “You know I don’t care. Not any more.”

“But I care,” I said. “And by talking about it, it makes it… real.”

Renee placed her right hand on her temple. She looked like half of her felt sorry for me and the other half wanted to kill me. “I don’t know why you do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She gestured toward me. “You never tell me how you feel. You keep everything in. You’ve always done it.” She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t even know what really happened with you guys. I mean, I know you obviously fell for him pretty hard or else you wouldn’t have…” She looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Will you please just talk to me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. I want to know what happened then, and I want to know what’s happening now. I want to know everything.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. When I opened them, my best friend was staring at me, silently begging me to let her in.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Everything.”

Los Angeles, CA

April 2009

I was the saddest girl to ever hold a martini. A walking Sex and the City episode. Minus the sex.

I wished Renee was here. If she wasn’t home for a funeral, I would’ve called her for a long-distance cheer-up, but it wasn’t the most appropriate time. So instead, I resorted to sitting barefoot on the living-room floor, still wearing Renee’s gold dress, crying into a martini glass.

Pathetic, really.

I’m not sure what set it off, because I shouldn’t have been this upset. It wasn’t like I’d invested much time or energy into my relationship with Vincent. I think this was just the last straw. The end result of the bad-date build-up. I finally thought I’d found someone who was different, and he turned out to be worse than all of them.

At first, it was quite comical. I chuckled to myself in the cab, wondering how long he’d wait at the table, how stupid he’d feel when our waitress realized he’d been ditched. I skipped into my kitchen, made myself a dirty martini, then sat down on my living-room floor and drank.

And somewhere around the second martini, the humor faded.

First, I thought about my parents, and the dreaded question that presented itself every time they called. “So, are you seeing anyone special?” It was the first thing they always asked. Well, technically the third, aside from the traditional “How are you?” and “How’s LA?” But the first two were just a buffer to get to the third question, the one they really wanted to ask.

Even worse was their discouraged “oh” after I told them no. I could hear the disappointment echoing from 3,000 miles away. And forget about family parties. My mom would attempt to cover up my patheticness by telling my nosy relatives that I was “kissing a lot of frogs” when they asked about my dating life.

You can only kiss so many frogs before your parents start to think you’re a lesbian.

After thinking about it some more, I started to feel bad. It wasn’t my parents’ fault. I was an only child. I was their only hope for grandchildren.

And then I cried.

I cried because I felt like a huge disappointment. I cried because I was jealous of everyone else’s happy relationships. I cried because I was afraid of being alone forever.

The sound at the door made me spill the remains of my drink onto the floor. Shit. I knew Vincent had my address, but I didn’t actually think he’d show up here. I was quiet for a minute, hoping he’d go away, but then I watched in horror as the knob turned and the door swung open.

I could have sworn I had locked it behind me when I came in. No, I definitely had. But then how…

“Justine?”

I looked up and locked eyes with David. David in all his six-foot-tall gorgeousness, standing above me with a look of bewilderment on his face. I knew what I looked like. The drunken cry-fest had invoked a black mascara trail under my eyes and a ring of perma-snot under my nose. Not my sexiest moment.

I opened my mouth to explain, fully expecting David to ask what the hell was wrong with me. But instead, to my surprise, he burst out laughing. And it wasn’t just a chuckle. The guy was in absolute hysterics.

“Is this what you girls do when guys aren’t around?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. “You get dressed up, make martinis and cry? Is there a Lifetime movie marathon on?” He leaned forward and clutched his stomach.

“It’s not funny,” I said, fighting back a smile. When I thought about what I probably looked like to someone else, it actually was pretty funny. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I left some stuff here. Renee said I could use the spare key and stop by. She said you wouldn’t be here because you were out on a…” A look of recognition came over him as his grin faded. He walked over and sat down next to me on the rug. “I’m guessing the date didn’t go well?”

“He’s married.”

“Ouch. Now I feel bad for laughing.” He took my chin in his hand and turned my face toward him. “Although you do look kind of funny having a depressing cocktail party on your floor.”

We both burst out laughing.

“I take it Renee didn’t tell you I was coming by?” he asked.

I pointed to my phone. I had turned it off so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer Vincent’s phone calls, wondering where I’d gone. I wanted to make him wait. Make him feel as stupid as I did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing to talk about, really. He took me out to dinner, kissed me, then proceeded to tell me he was married like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

“Hmm, let me guess. Makes a lot of money… drives a flashy car…”

I nodded.

“Typical. So what did you do?”

“Ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne, a 32-ounce steak, then told him I was going to the bathroom and snuck out the back.” I grinned proudly.

“Nicely done.” David looked like he was impressed. “Well, on that note, I say we go make a few more of these.” He took the martini glass from my grasp.

I followed David into the kitchen, happy he’d come to my rescue. This was exactly what Renee would’ve done. She would’ve turned the unfortunate situation into a party.

“There’s only one problem,” I admitted, as David passed me a glass.