“But, dude, Iris would have waited her whole life for you to pop the question. And she’d never leave your side. She was stuck to you like hockey tape. It was easier.”
“That’s not what I want in a woman.”
“I get that.” Castro pokes me in the knee. “My point is that Charli is wild and free and gives no fucks what anyone thinks. But maybe she can’t. Maybe the thing that makes you want her is also the reason she can’t be tamed.”
My chest tightens with renewed dread. “She’s not a mustang, Castro.”
“Isn’t she?” he asks quietly. “She’ll either put on the bridle or not, man. All you can do is ask her to hold still.”
Well, that is damn depressing.
Coach stops in front of me, and I look up into his irritated face. “Is Castro straightening your shit out? Or do I have to take a crack at it?”
“I’ve got this, Coach.” Castro slaps my knee. “Drake is all twisted up about a woman.”
“Aw, hell,” Coach says with a shake of his head. “Not another one. What I need is a bunch of monks who can skate. Stop thinking about girls and get back out there. We can still win this thing, if you get your heads out of your asses.”
“Yes, Coach,” I say. Sitting here thinking about Charli isn’t exactly getting me anywhere.
“She doesn’t exist for twenty more minutes of play,” Coach announces.
“Yes, Coach,” I drone. “She’s gone from my life.”
That’s probably true, anyway. There’s very little I can do about it.
After some stretching and a quick pep talk, we head out again and play a better period of hockey. We tie it up before the buzzer, but then lose in overtime.
“Still worth a point,” Crikey says as we both get dressed beside our lockers later. “Good hustle in the third, Drakey.”
“Thanks,” I grunt. I did have good hustle in the third period. But now that it’s over, I’m back to worrying.
When the boys decide to hit the Tavern on Hicks, I don’t go with them. I head home instead.
Dread curls in my gut when I see that my apartment is dark. It’s possible Charli may already be sleeping. I tiptoe through the place, so as not to wake her. But when I enter my bedroom, the New York City glow is bright enough to show me an empty bed.
Fuck. I flip on the lights, toss my suit jacket onto the bed, and head into the bathroom.
Her makeup case is gone. Her toothbrush is gone. Everything.
She’s left me. It’s true. I find a note on my bedside table.
Neil—I’m sorry. But I need to go. I’m staying with friends. The lawyer is squeezing me in tomorrow. I’ll let you know what she says.
You take care,
C.
Shit!
She’s left the ring on top of the note—the ugly one from our wedding. That makes me even angrier. I open the drawer and drop the ring inside, where it lands with a clunk next to my grandmother’s ring.
I look down at the two of them—and it’s a study in contrasts. One sparkles with an icy beauty. Diamonds in platinum. The other is a cheap shade of yellow gold and has too many gemstones. It tries to dazzle but fails.
That is what I offered Charli—a cheap mockery. A drunk groom. An ugly ring.
That’s not how I feel about her. Yet here I stand, blaming her for misunderstanding me. Frustrated that she can’t look beyond all my awkward flailing and assume that I have her best interests at heart.
Fuck. I tried to tell her, but I did it all wrong. Now she’s gone, leaving nothing but a two-line note about meeting the lawyer.
I crumple the note in my hand, like the sore loser Charli accused me of being, and I throw it into the trash bin.
Then I fish it out and recycle it, because even when my heart is breaking, I still care about the planet.
THIRTY-TWO
PUT IT ON NEIL’S TAB
Charli
Seated on a sofa with Fiona and her girlfriend, Aly, I watch the Bruisers lose.
“That’s a damn shame,” Fiona says, clicking off the TV. “Drake struggled tonight. I wonder what’s eating at him.” She gives me a sideways glance.
“Ooh, burn,” Aly says.
“Please,” I say. “Don’t you think it’s a little presumptuous to assume that I ruined Neil’s game?” Although my heart thumped with the same dark question as I watched him screw up over and over again during the first two periods.
“I don’t think it’s presumptuous at all to assume that he’ll miss you,” Fiona says. “Want another glass of wine?” She tips the bottle toward my glass.
“I’m still nursing this one,” I say, holding my glass aloft.
She pours the rest into Aly’s glass, and the two of them chat me up for a while longer, even though it’s a school night, and Fiona will have to face down a horde of children tomorrow at work. She’s a P.E. Teacher for the New York Public School System.
“We know some nice girls,” Aly says. “Maybe it’s time to cast your fishing pole in the other pond again. Want me to set you up on a date?”
“That’s awfully nice, but I don’t think so,” I say. The idea of dating anyone right now hurts my heart. “I’m good. Besides—women have always found me as undateable as men.”
“Nobody is undateable,” Aly says with a wink. “You just need to find your other half. The person who appreciates all your eccentricities.”
Oh boy. It hurts to hear that. Because only one person has ever told me that he liked the way I challenged him and that I was endlessly fascinating.
Fiona sighs, and when I glance at her, she gives me a tiny smile and then shakes her head. But she doesn’t say it out loud, which makes her an excellent friend.
“Look, I need a new place to live more than I need a guy,” I announce. “I’m going to text a plea to the group chat.”
“And I’ll ask around school,” Fiona says with a yawn.
I’m keeping them up late. “You guys, it’s nice of you to babysit me, but I’m okay. And I know you need your sleep.”
Fiona yawns again, climbing off the couch. “Sad but true. You know—Sylvie probably went to Anton’s tonight after the game. You could sleep in her bed.”
“But she might be out at the bar with the team,” I say. “We don’t know for sure.”
Aly gets up, too. “But if you wake up in the middle of the night because that couch is killing you, maybe you should make the move.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell them. “Sweet dreams!”
Keeping out of their way while they get ready for bed, I wash all our wine glasses in the kitchen. I can’t believe I’m someone’s houseguest. Again.
Eventually, holding hands, they retreat to Fiona’s room, where the door closes with a soft click.
I shut the lights off and sit back down on the sofa, where I can hear the soft murmur of my friends’ voices behind the bedroom door as they settle into Fiona’s bed.
The sound of their conversation makes me feel hollow inside. I lie down, wondering if I’ll be able to sleep at all. It’s always been hard for me to relax in a strange place. Especially when I feel unsettled.