Me: I’m not feeling so well. I won’t be making it into the office today. I’ll text you later.
Casie: Oh, sweetie. So sorry you feel bad. Hope you are well soon.
Done.
I throw my phone back in my purse and toss my bags on the chair, slip off my shoes, pants and bra and climb in the bed under the soft warm embrace of my heavy comforter. No one can find me or get to me here. What a stupid illusion. The mean world awaits just on the other side of that wall, and as soon as I venture out of bed again, it will swallow me whole, chew me up and spit me out once again.
I know I put on a front of being a strong, successful woman who holds her head up high, walks into the room and commands it as her own, but the truth is, I want someone to be there to share life with. And what hurts the most is that I wanted, and could really see, Clay being that man.
There is no need to keep track of the time. My schedule today only consists of being consumed with self-pity. At least this so-called relationship between Clay and I was a sham, so now it doesn’t have to be complicated. I will simply tell him that the arrangement is over, and that will be that.
I’m sure he will be fine with it. He wasn’t looking for anything long term anyway. This will just uncomplicate his life, and he will be free to focus on what he needs to and get back to doing what he does.
My tears silently bleed onto my pillow as restless sleep comes and goes.
Hours, but what feels like days, later I drag myself out of bed. To do what, I don’t know, but my head is pounding and demanding I get up. I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to even bother with getting a glass of water to quench my parched mouth, but my headache is not going away without something to help it.
After popping two pain relievers and wrapping myself tightly into a blanket on the couch, I hear my phone vibrating, signaling that someone is calling. Dropping my head to rest on the back of the couch, I sigh. I’m not ready to deal with the day. The caller on the other end doesn’t give a fuck because this is the third time in a row that they’ve called.
Reluctantly, I crawl out from under the covers, go to my room and fish my phone out of my purse. While I’m walking back to the comfort of my couch cocoon, I see that I have fifteen unread texts and ten missed calls from Clay. Oh, fuck, I forgot to text him that I made it home okay.
The vibration in my hand startles me as the damn thing rings for the fourth time. I warily answer, “Hello.”
“Oh, thank God. Romi, you had me so worried. I was getting in the truck right now to go look for you.” Clay’s words are rushed, and he sounds out of breath.
“No, Clay, don’t do that. I am fine. Sorry, I forgot to text you before I fell asleep.”
“What’s wrong? I thought you were just going to go home to change and then come back to town for work. Do you feel alright?” Great question. No, I don’t. I have this sinking feeling in my chest, and I’m sure if I went to the clinic and saw the doctor, he would just send me home with a script to rest and the prognosis would be heartbreak. How could I have been so stupid to get so close to Clay? I knew this was temporary. I knew we didn’t have a future. How can there be when both parties involved were workaholics?
“I let Casie know that I wouldn’t be going into the office today.”
“Romi, what is going on?” His stern voice that is laced with concern sends a pain through my chest.
“This entire arrangement got out of hand. We don’t have time in our lives to be playing around like we have been. It’s causing problems with catastrophic consequences.”
“What. Are. You. Saying.” Each of his words comes out deliberately, with a hint of anger.
“I’m saying that this has gone on way past its expiration date. The fake setup that we both agreed to in the beginning was only supposed to be for that one weekend. Now we have drug it out over weeks, and you know as well as I do that neither of us can be in a committed relationship. Our careers don’t allow it, and yours has horrific results when your attention is pulled from it.”
“I still don’t understand. Why, after weeks, are you pulling away now? Is it because you saw just what being with me would entail?”
“I’m sorry, I just think I am distracting you too much. Those poor animals probably would have survived had I not been around and called your focus away.”
“Is that what you think, that you were the cause of me losing my patients?”
“Yes,” I answer, and the tears escape my water filled eyes.
“Romi, sweetheart. In no way did any of those animals die as a result of me not being focused. All of them either had underlining long term health conditions that finally did them in, or it was freak accidents that took their lives and there was nothing I could do about it, other than make them as comfortable as I could until they passed on.”
I sniffle and wipe my wet face on my t-shirt sleeve to dry my eyes. I hear what he is saying, but there’s a part of me that still thinks I’m too much of a hindrance for him to deal with any longer. “I don’t know, Clay.”
“I tell you what. Take a day to rest, and we will discuss this tomorrow when you come back to town.”
“This is over, Clay. I’m not going to come back to town until later in the week.”
“This is not over.”
“It is. I am so sorry to waste your time. Goodbye, Clay.” I disconnect the call before more hurtful conversation can take place, and I throw it to the other corner of the couch like it’s an evil device that needs to fall into the abyss of the cushions, never to be found.
Now, I can’t get comfortable again. So I return to my bed, but I glance over to see those same books that I used to prop my phone up on just a few nights ago to play around with Clay.
Their covers are taunting me, reminding me of the stories inside. Ones where the hero and heroine always end up together. It is all fucking bull shit. If it were as easy as a book, it would be boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, they have a little tiff, and then they get back together and go on to live a happy life. In real life that shit doesn’t happen. We live, we struggle, we hurt, we try to be happy, we try to get those around us that we care for to love us, and we hurt some more. Nowhere in there is a happy fucking ever after.
19
I was already at my truck when Romi finally picked up. Every bad scenario was running through my head of what could have happened to her during those last waiting hours. I rushed through my patients I had lined up at the office and texted her or called her phone every chance I got. As soon as my last patient left, I was out the door and going to go find my woman.
Oh, wait.
She just made it crystal clear that she and I were nothing. Not even a fake couple anymore. Well done, dickhead. You can’t even keep a fake girlfriend without running her off.
Instead of driving to the city because she was adamant about me not going to her, I drive to Levi’s shop.
“Stop pacing,” he commands, but I don’t listen.
“I don’t get it. Well, maybe, I do get it. But I thought she would understand because of all the long hours she puts into her job, and how passionate she is about building it. We had that in common, and I was stupid to think it would be enough.”
“Come back here, we can talk while I work on this car. I have to get it ready for the customer to pick up today.”