The Do-Over(63)
Author: Suzanne Park
Promised.
I tried my best to appear calm while I was seething inside. “Not even a text,” I said weakly. It had been more than forty hours since I’d spoken to him. Not that I was counting. “I was hoping this time would be different.”
It wasn’t different.
I was done with Jake. We were done.
I’d officially written him out of my life. Again.
Time to delete his number. Again.
Thanks for letting me down, Jake. Again.
Again, again, again. How stupid was I for thinking I could rely on him this time?
Mia frowned. “I’m so sorry he ghosted you. What a fucking shitty thing to do. Especially now.”
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes as I distracted myself with angry-typing an op-ed essay. While revising the short piece, I received an email from my publicist.
“They want me to prepare a video statement and have the O’Haras interview me in a live event this week so I can tell my side of the story,” I told Mia.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t necessarily trust the O’Hara family, do you? But I guess the benefit of doing that event would be that they could bring in a well-connected audience full of media influencers. Plus, it’s the devil you know, as they say.”
“I can see an event with the O’Haras going either way: it could be beneficial or a total disaster, depending on the crowd and the questions they ask.”
Mia took her hands off her keyboard. “Can you get the questions ahead of time? Didn’t they request the same from you?”
It was worth a try. I set up an emergency meeting with my editor and publicist that afternoon to discuss urgent book-related matters and requested that the questions from the O’Haras’ interview be sent to me beforehand. Mia drafted correspondence for Carlthorpe’s dean of students and managed my emails flooding in for media requests. According to her reputation tracking tool, my media hits had gone up instead of plateauing or going down.
She barked out a laugh so loud that it startled me. “Sorry, I checked your follower and subscriber counts. They’ve doubled in the last day. Maybe this hasn’t been all bad.”
A crop of pro-Lily articles had appeared, which Mia helped propagate, ones focused on my return to campus, and taking STEM-focused classes, and how the age of undergrad students is higher at Carlthorpe thanks to more gap-year acceptances and transfer students from community colleges. The Carlthorpe Courier interviewed various students in my stats and CS classes, and for the most part, the article was positive.
My phone rang as I finished reading.
“Jake?” Mia’s eyes begged me for confirmation.
I swallowed hard. “I should have blocked him. I’m going to ignore it.”
She grabbed the phone from me. “No. I want you to tell him off. Ten years ago, you two had important things to work out and he left you high and dry. He’s a bona fide asshole for not calling you back! Yell at him! Yank his balls off!”
She was right, he needed to hear this. “I might try a slightly different approach, but yeah, I get you.” Leaving the living room, I closed the door to my bedroom behind me and answered the call.
“Hey! I’m so sorry it took so long to get back to you,” he breathed.
“And I’m sorry I believed you’d call me back. It’s been two days.” My voice was cold and matter-of-fact.
“Shit, please don’t hang up! I said I was sorry, and I can explain,” he begged.
I stiffened at his words. “I need you to know how badly you let me down. It’s not like it’s the first time.”
“May I please tell you what happened? Then after that, you can never speak to me again, but I promise you it wasn’t for nothing.”
I swallowed hard. “Fine,” I said flatly. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I put it on speakerphone, just so I could hover my finger on the end call button.
I heard him gulp. “Damn, I don’t even know where to begin. I should have my thoughts more organized, but I haven’t slept much. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, when you called, I was meeting with my academic advisor for the last time.” Jake paused. “My last time. Can you believe it?”
I couldn’t read his tone. How was I supposed to react to this news? Was I supposed to congratulate him? Offer condolences? What did this even mean?
He barreled on, speaking more quickly. “He was preparing me for . . . well . . . I just spent the last day and a half defending my dissertation. I’m exhausted, my brain is fried, but I called you as soon as I finished meeting with the committee. I had to hold two separate sessions, with some people in person, and again in a virtual meeting for a few who were out sick. I left my phone in my advisor’s office and he brought it with him to the last meeting. I’m at three percent battery.”
My entire body froze, my mouth included. It took a few seconds to regain my speech. “Wait, what did you just say?”
“That I’m at three percent battery? Actually, make that two percent.”
“No, before that. Did you say dissertation? You mean—” Words scrambled in my brain. “Are you a doctor of computer science now?”
“Yes! Well, informally, but it’ll be official soon. And I even wore a tie . . . and dress pants. Can you believe it? I finished my PhD program!”
I couldn’t. He’d worn grown-up pants AND finished his dissertation? My body flooded with so many feelings.
Happiness. Excitement. Admiration.
Then anger. Frustration. Annoyance.
“Wait, why didn’t you just tell me you were doing this?”
“You had a LOT on your plate, Lily. And I was an emotional mess. Don’t be mad, can’t you be happy for me that it’s all over?”
But I was mad. Mad at him for keeping this from me for so long. I was mad at myself for not knowing what he was up to all that time. Mad at both of us for not communicating. It made sense now, why he’d scaled back his office hours. Why he stopped showing up to class. All this time I thought he was a huge flake, but all he was doing was getting his long-overdue degree. Like me.
“Honestly, Lily, I’m just glad it’s done. And now that it is, I want to know what’s been going on with you while I was out of commission. Please tell me everything. You have my full attention.” He coaxed, “Please? What happened?”