Oh, La-la!

Chapter 10. Ash

I should have called in sick. I’d thought about it when the alarm went off this morning, but stubbornly dragged my sorry ass into the office. It’s Thursday, I remind myself. I just need to make it to the end of the day. I’ll work from home tomorrow where no one will give a flying f*ck how broken I am. Just hold it together for a few hours.

Kayla breezes into my cubicle like a ray of sunshine with a steaming mug in her hands. “Earl Grey, hot,” she winks at me before her face falls. “What’s wrong?”

F*ck. I should have known she would take one look at me and realize something was going on. And I know she’ll push me on it, but I just can’t do this here and now. If I start talking, if I tell her what happened, I’m afraid I’ll break down again. I just want to focus on work, pretend my world isn’t falling apart, get through the day, and drown myself in a bottle of alcohol. “I’m fine,” I mutter and she scowls at me. “I just… I don’t want to talk about it right now, ok?” I plead with my eyes, hoping she’ll understand how close to the edge I am right now.

“Over lunch then?” the soft concern in her voice has tears burning the back of my eyes and I swallow down the emotion that threatens to consume me.

“I can’t today. I’m sorry. I have meetings right through the middle of the day.” It was almost true. She can easily check my schedule and see that I do indeed have a meeting at noon. Just like she would see I have a gap at eleven and another at one o’clock. But I know I’m going to fall apart when she pushes me and I’m not sure I can come back into the office afterwards.

She c***s her head to the side, and I swear she knows what I’m trying to do. “Drinks after work, then.” I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off. “That wasn’t a request. Tell Beth you’ll be a little late home tonight, I won’t keep you long,” she says. The mention of Beth has my stomach clenching into a knot, and even if I thought she’d let me argue with her, I’m not actually sure I can utter a sound right now. “And I won’t push, I promise,” she adds softly. “But you need to tell me what’s up after work if you don’t want me worrying about you.”

I sigh. I know I can’t avoid her forever, and if I’m honest with myself, she’s the one person I feel like I can open up to, break down in front of, and not worry about losing her respect. “Ok,” I manage to force the words out. “After work.”

She squeezes my shoulder before leaving me alone, and I try to concentrate on the numbers floating across my screen. At lunch, Kayla brings me a wrap and drops it off with a soda and a wink while I listen to the know-it-all client drone on about stuff he’s completely wrong about, but I don’t have the energy to correct him right now. Her effortless friendship means more to me than anything with the shitstorm that dropped itself in my lap last night. I’m not sure I deserve her, and I have to close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing to try to calm the internal maelstrom that keeps threatening to come out.

True to her word, Kayla comes to collect me at five o’clock and we walk to the little pub around the corner from the office. It’s one of those places that offers a little bit of everything. You can sit in a booth and have a quiet drink after work, or stay later and enjoy live bands, or, for the more adventurous, karaoke on Tuesday nights. At just after five o’clock on a Thursday, the clientele consists of a mixture of workers from the surrounding office buildings sneaking in a quick drink before heading home to microwave their dinners or help their kids with homework while their spouse does the dishes, and the regulars who spend more time between those walls than the bar’s employees.

Kayla snags a booth way at the back so we won’t be disturbed. I sag onto the red pleather bench that’s been cracked from too many years and too many butts, bits of duct tape helping to hold in the stuffing, as Kayla pops to the bar to order a house white wine for herself, even though she always complains they keep it way too cold for her tastes, and gets me a bottle of Modelo. She brings our drinks over and sets them on cardboard coasters that do nothing to protect the ancient scarred table. “So,” she prompts me, her palms cupping her glass of wine that’s already dripping with condensation. “What’s going on?”

I take a long pull of my beer and wonder how two simple words can be so hard to say out loud. Studying the beer bottle with the intensity reserved for the broken, I decide it’s like ripping off a band-aid. “Beth left,” I spit out.

Kayla stares at me with her mouth hanging slightly open. She blinks once, twice, three times before shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “Beth left? What do you mean she left?”

Please don’t make me say it again, I silently beg, but outwardly I just shrug. “She left. Moved out.”

“I don’t…” I can see she’s trying to make sense of it. You and me both, I think bitterly. “It’s not because of me, is it?” she asks softly.

Crap, I didn’t mean to make her feel guilty. “No,” I shake my head sadly. In some ways, it would be easier to understand if it had been because of her. “Although, she did suggest that I shouldn’t be so surprised since you and I have obviously been sleeping together.”

“I think I would have noticed that,” she says with a grim smile.

“I certainly would have,” I mutter with a sigh. Louder, I say, “She wouldn’t believe me when I said nothing’s ever happened between us. More importantly, she didn’t care.”

Kayla’s eyebrows draw together as she studies me. “Why? What happened?”

If the act of saying that she left was difficult, it's nothing compared to explaining the why. I try to insulate myself from the pain, but it cuts too deep. I drain half my beer in one swallow and wish I’d gotten something stronger. “Turns out the other guy she was seeing finally proposed and she’d rather marry him,” I shrug, trying to pretend to be nonchalant, like this sort of betrayal was nothing I can’t handle, but the tears burn the back of my eyes and constrict my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Kayla blinks at me while the words linger in the air between us. I feel like if I could see the particles of ozone containing the truth, I could reach out and pluck them out of existence. Somehow, make my life make sense again.

“What the f*ck?” it was almost a growl coming from my petite friend. My eyes snap to hers, surprised at the barely contained rage I see on her face. She sips her wine, clearly trying to get control of herself, but she makes a face at the taste and sets it aside. “How long has this been going on?”

“Three years,” I scoff. “Apparently, that’s why she would never settle on a date to marry me. She was waiting for him to make up his mind.”

“Three f*cking years?” she practically shouts and several heads turn our way with curious looks. “Sorry,” she says quieter, “I just… three f*cking years? Who does that?”

“I’m such an i***t,” I mutter.

“No, you’re not,” she says gently. “You’re a good person and a loyal man. She didn’t deserve you. And you certainly don’t deserve this.”

“I just don’t know how I could’ve missed it,” and doesn’t that just add insult to injury? The fact that this was all going on right under my nose and I didn’t see it. “The business trips, the girl’s weekends… all of it was a lie. I’m a moron.”

Kayla sighs and reaches for my hand. “No, you’re not,” she says more forcefully. “You couldn’t see what she was doing because you’d never, in a million years, do that to someone you love. People who don’t cheat don’t see what a cheater is doing. You’re not a moron, and it’s not your fault. There’s something broken about her. It’s not an excuse, it’s just a fact. And you deserve better.”

I focus on her hand resting on mine. “The other night, after the party when she told me to take you home? That’s when he asked her.”

Her eyes widen and her fingers tighten on mine. “He was there?”

I nod sadly. “Trent. Her gym buddy. I’m a f*cking idiot.”

“The bro dude?” she asks incredulously. “Mister Football is Life? Do you even lift? Ew.”

“Yeah, that one,” I say darkly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I’m not even sure I’m depressed that she’s gone. It’s like, I wanted to get married, have a family, star of my own sitcom, you know? Somewhere along the way it was less important who I was with and more that I was fulfilling the role.” I take a deep breath. Saying it out loud helps. A little. “I did love her. Once. I don’t know when that feeling faded, but it did. I just feel hollow now. Like I’ve been lying to myself for too long. Now I have to be realistic and admit it’s never going to happen for me. My life is so different from how I pictured it. I’m not sure how to be ok with that.”

“It’ll happen,” she squeezes my hand again. “It will!" she insists when I give her a bland look. "She wasn’t the right one for you, but I swear, you’re the best person I know. I know a lot of people, and you’re right up there at the top,” I can’t help but smile at her. She sounds so genuine, and even though I’m not sure I believe her, I want to. “Right now, there’s a woman out there thinking, ‘Right, I’m going to die alone.’ She doesn’t know that she’s just been waiting for the best person on the planet to become available.”

“It’s that simple, huh?”

With one last squeeze, she releases my hand to take another sip of her wine. She still had a steely look of anger in her eyes, but her shoulders aren’t as tense. She may be tiny, but I’d put my money on her if push came to shove. “It could be,” she answers with a shrug. “Why not? People find their soul mates every day. Maybe you already have and the time just needed to get sorted out.”

I study her across the table, rolling the idea around in my head. “That’s not a very comforting thought.”

She freezes with her wine glass halfway to her lips. “What’s not? Maybe I said it wrong.”

“That I already met my soul mate, but because I was wasting my time with Beth, I… what? Missed the chance at happily ever after?” Yeah, that’s not comforting at all.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she sighs and sets her wine down again. “I’m obviously not very good at this. I just meant, maybe it wasn’t the right time, but there will be as many chances as you need. I don’t think you get one shot at this and that’s it. That’s ridiculous.”

“Hmmm… maybe,” it’s still not the most comforting thought, but maybe it’s better than resigning myself to bachelorhood for life. The thing is, I like being in a relationship. I like having someone there to share my life with, and to share hers. I like feeling like no matter what, there’s one person in this world that understands me, and will always have my back. No matter what.

“Or hey,” Kayla interrupts my spiraling thoughts, “maybe you haven’t met her yet, and that’s ok too. My friend Smash is single-“ she stops suddenly, and looks down at her drink, swirling the liquid in the glass. “Besides,” she says quickly, “you’ve got plenty of time. Men age slower than women, and you’re definitely not old.” I arch an eyebrow at her as she drains the last of her wine. “Do you want another beer?”

I know there’s something she’s not saying, but I decide to let it go for now. I was in no headspace to go down that rabbit hole. “Umm… no. I should probably take off.” It would be easy to stay and get drunk, but that wouldn’t help make anything better. Besides, I definitely want something stronger, but I still need to drive home.

“You sure?” she’s looking at me like a wounded animal. “What about dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know,” she says with a grin. “Food and stuff?”

This girl. I can’t help but smile at her. “Yeah, I remember. I’m sorry, I’m just not… I don’t think I could eat right now.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You still need to eat, you know.”

“I will. I promise,” I add as she continues to glare at me.

“Hmmm…” I’m a little afraid she’s not going to believe me. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

My eyes go wide. Whatever I thought she was going to say, it wasn’t that, and I’m not sure how to respond to such an invitation. “I… uh…” I stumble searching for words.

“Oh sh*t, no, that’s not what I meant. I really suck at this,” she says. “I just meant, you know, if you didn’t want to be alone. My couch isn’t much, but it’s pretty comfortable.”

My laugh is nervous and I run a hand through my hair. “No, yeah, that’s what I figured you meant,” I lie. “Actually, I think being alone is what I need right now. Just, clear my head, you know?” And not get drunk around Kayla since after only one beer I immediately think she’s propositioning me. What is wrong with me?

“As long as you promise to eat. Even if it’s just chips and ice cream.”

“Chips and ice cream?” I smirk.

She shrugs. “Not necessarily together. And call me if you need anything. Even just an ear. I don’t even have to talk, which would probably be safer,” she laughs.

My smile comes a little easier. I know it’s going to take a while to feel like myself again, and my heart will carry this scar from now on, but Kayla eases my pain and makes me feel like it might at least be possible to get back to me some day. We walk back to my car in comfortable silence.

“You sure you’re going to be ok?” Kayla asks as I unlock my door.

For the first time in the last 24 hours, I feel like I might actually be able to survive this new vision of my life. “Yeah, I’m not yet, not going to lie, but I think I will be. Can I give you a ride home?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good. It’s a nice walk to my place, not that far. And it’s pretty much the only exercise I get these days,” she chuckles. She bites her lower lip before suddenly wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace.

I hesitate for a moment before returning the hug. “Thank you, Kayla,” I murmur into her hair. “For caring. For… everything.”

We stand together for a few minutes and I can’t deny how good she feels in my arms. When she finally pulls back, I feel the world tilt on its side as I get lost in the green pools of her eyes. I blink and watch in fascination as her cheeks turn pink, and she glances away nervously.

“It’s what friends do,” she mutters. “Drive safe, Ash. Text me to let me know you got home safe.”

“Will do,” I promise. “Goodnight, Kayla. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I don’t know what just happened, but I’m shaken to my core. I drive home on autopilot with too many emotions bombarding me to think straight anymore. She said it herself, we’re just friends. Anything more I just imagined. It’s just because I’m not used to being alone and it’s easy to fall into the same old patterns.

No matter how many excuses I tell myself, I can’t forget what it felt like to hold her in my arms. How she seemed to fit there, like she belonged there. As I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to rescue me from my thoughts, I allow myself to wonder what it would be like to hold her for real. Not as a friend offering comfort, but as something so much more.