Squeezing the shampoo out of the bottle, I’m suddenly overcome by the urge to shut the water off, throw on a towel, and run to Ben’s to tell him I messed up. Make that get dressed and take a cab because running is not possible with as much food as I’ve recently consumed.
After yesterday’s scene, there’s no way I can even call him. He is never going to talk to me again. Plus, I’m not sure if I should want to make up. Even though I instigated everything by reading his texts from Gwen, what he set out to do is so much worse. My heart may be whispering for me to believe him, but my logical side is shouting at the top of her lungs not to be stupid.
By the time I get out of the shower, I feel semi-human again. I put on a clean nightgown and a robe before walking out into the kitchen. “Yum, I smell bacon.”
Charley announces, “I made you a healthy breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and two strips of bacon.”
“I just want bacon. Twelve or fourteen strips should do it.”
“No.” Charley stands with her hands on her hips. “If you don’t have the strength to use self-control, I will be here to force you.”
Jabbing my pointer finger in her direction, I say, “You seem to be forgetting who works for whom.”
“Whatever. Sit down and I’ll serve you up.” Clearly Charley isn’t intimidated by me. Rats.
“You know, Charley, grown-up love is very complicated. You don’t just bounce back because someone tells you to.”
“Love? Are you and Ben in love?” she asks, her eyes filled with hope.
I nod my head slightly. “I think we were. But I ruined it by reading his text messages and blowing things out of proportion.”
“No, no, no, no …” She’s waving her hands in front of her. “This is perfect. You and Ben just need to come together and have your big rom-com moment.”
I visualize a vintage Ben standing under my window in a long brown trench coat with a boombox, but the image is absurd. Besides, I’m not sure a Peter Gabriel song is going to work here. “I’m going to tell your parents they need to institute a ban on romantic movies.”
She waves off my threat. “You both have to mope for a little bit, but something big has to bring you together. Then the camera will zoom in on you as you catch sight of each other.” Now she’s making a square with her pointer fingers and thumbs and she’s walking around me like she’s the lens of the camera.
She continues, “Maybe your eyes meet across a crowded restaurant, or you run into each other on the street … whatever it is, it has to be epic. The audience has to feel the tug of emotion and the back and forth of your thoughts as you decide what to do.”
She runs across the room to the far end of the living room and starts to act out her vision of Ben’s role. “Serafina …” she declares with her hand jutted out in front of her.
What in the heck is she doing?
“Now you say ‘Ben,’” she instructs.
I put my fork down and pick up my bacon. “Ben.” I mimic her, wondering where this is all going.
She takes a step toward me. “I haven’t been able to eat or sleep …”
Clearly, I haven’t suffered the same dilemma, so I say, “I wish things had worked out differently.”
Charley prompts me with her hands to keep talking, so I add, “I shouldn’t have read your text messages.” Prompt, prompt, prompt … “I’m sorry about Mr. Spock.”
“And …” God, this girl is annoying me.
“And I miss you.” Are you happy now, Charley?
Charley runs across the room and gets down on one knee. “I miss you too. So much. I would never hurt you, Sera. You are my one true love. The sun and the moon are nothing compared to the love I feel for you.”
“I think that’s a bit much, don’t you?” I ask her.
“Shut up,” she says. “Rom-com love is big and over the top and requires a speech of impressive proportions.” She contorts her face back into her Ben character. “I love you, Serafina, and if you don’t say you love me back, I’ll throw myself out the window! Death would be far preferable than living in a world where you don’t love me back.”
“I feel like we’ve skewed a little Romeo and Juliet here. Can we pull it back to maybe Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts?”
Charley throws her hands up in the air like she’s giving up. “We could, but to do that, you would have to see the guy or at least talk to him on the phone. Are you willing to call him?”
I shake my head. “I’m too mortified.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “Classic rom-coms always have friends and family getting involved to bring a couple together — I’m referencing Sleepless in Seattle here. Usually it’s done on the down low so the couple is utterly surprised, but since you’re my boss and I don’t want you to fire my behind, I’m asking. Do you give me permission to orchestrate a truly grand rom-com scene with you and Ben?”
I should be terrified. I should say no. But the truth is, I want Ben to be a part of my life. I really do love him, even though he’s a high-handed intellectual snob. At the heart of it, I know he’s also a really good person, full of curiosity and compassion. And, on top of that, the man is one heck of an amazing kisser and he’s insanely hot for a nerd.
“Fine,” I tell her. “I give you permission to butt into my love life and help me and Ben find our way back to each other.”
Charley screams like she’s just been stabbed in a dark alley. “YES!!! You won’t be sorry! I promise I will not rest until your love story is declared rom-com of the year by the masses.”
“You do know this isn’t a movie, right?” I ask, concerned that she’s lost track of reality.
“It kind of is,” she says. “I mean you’re pretty much going to re-enact the whole thing on television.”
“You’re not suggesting we make up on television, are you? Because I’m putting my foot down at that.”
Charley waves me off. “Too late, you gave permission and now it’s up to me.”
“You have to tell me what you’re going to do,” I order.
“No, I don’t. All the best rom-coms have that surprise element. If you know what’s coming, you won’t be able to play your part convincingly.”
“Charley …” I say in my most stern motherly tone.
“Sorry, gotta go. You’re going to have to make your calls alone because I have a movie to write.”
“Charley,” I yell after her to no avail as she hurries out my front door without a backward glance.
What have I just agreed to? A shiver runs through me right before a wall of panic hits. Charley is capable of really messing things up. Although, I’m not sure how much worse things could possibly get.
Forty-Two
Ben
It’s been eight days since I ruined my life, but honestly, it feels more like eight days on Venus, which is the equivalent of 1944 days on Earth (or 5.32603 Earth years). I’ve spent the entire time in a state of how can I make this up to the world? and so far, in spite of my best efforts, I’ve fallen short.