Page 43 of Our Final Encore

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You can’t pretend like there isn’t chemistry between us.”

Chemistry? Maybe as performers, sure, but I don’t feel anything at all towards her in any other sense. I’ve seen the comments people make on our videos together, and maybe I’m the idiot for not shutting them down myself. Clearly, I am.

“I don’t know what you thought, but no. I love my girlfriend, and I’m not breaking up with her.”

She looks hurt, and I almost feel bad about it, but I can’t right now. She’s a decent person, but she’s not the girl I’m in love with, who for all I know is completely heartbroken too.

She is, right? She wouldn’t want to break up…

“Alright…I’ll delete the photo of us.”

My eyes flick up from my phone to her. “…what photo?”

A guilty look splashes across her face. “I posted a photo of us on my insta. I thought, why not since you said y’all were over. I’m sorry.”

Fuck.God damn it. I scrub my hand down my face. “I need a moment.” I roll up my window without waiting for her to reply.

She nods with a crestfallen expression, and turns on her heel, quickly retreating back to the bus.

I pull up Instagram, and sure enough there it is. A photo of Alexa resting her head on my shoulder, my eyes are nearly closed and I look completely wasted. My head hits my pillow with a thud, and I shut my eyes, praying this is all a shitty, drug-induced nightmare. But I know it isn’t, I know it’s simply the consequences of my own actions.

I try, again and again, to call Opal. I even try messaging her through social media, but I can’t find a single one of her profiles. Finally it dawns on me, she wants nothing to do with me. And I sure as hell can’t blame her, because who would anymore?

TWENTY-EIGHT

Opal

Five years later

“Bye, Tiffany.” I wave goodbye to my boss before walking out the door, she doesn’t respond, as per usual. She isn’t the most friendly, but I like the simplicity and flexibility of my job, so I try my best to ignore the sour attitude she usually has.

I’m the bookkeeper for a small, locally owned bakery, Heaven Scent. Most days I get to sit in the back all day and crunch numbers. Occasionally I’ll fill in for other positions in the front of house, which isn’t my favorite, but there are certainly worse places to work. The free cupcakes keep me from complaining too much.

Main Street is empty, save for a few older people shopping or sitting on benches. It’s a typical March afternoon, warm and balmy, promising to bring hotter temperatures soon.

After last night’s newspaper debacle, I made plans to see Ian this evening. I immediately regretted my decision to dig deeper into the mystery of Alex’s face in the newspaper, but I’msure I would have heard about his return one way or another regardless. Hopefully spending time with Ian will distract my mind from thoughts of him, at least for a little while. I just need to keep myself occupied until he leaves, which I’m sure he will soon.

Ian is a good guy. Well, he’s anokayguy. There’s nothing wrong with Ian, but there’s also nothing incredibly amazing to write home about either. He’s good-looking, nice enough, and has a stable job. He’s a little wishy-washy, but honestly I don’t mind, because I am too.

Ever since Alex left, I haven’t been able to let myself fall for someone else. Either that, or I just haven’t found someone that pulls those feelings out of me since then. In some ways I think I’m ruined when it comes to love. Maybe my first love burned too brightly, dooming all of my future relationships to a fate of mediocrity. I don’t know.

Either way, he’s fine for passing the time and distracting me from the monotony of my life.

Even if my brain does conjure up images of Alex’s face when we kiss sometimes, hard as I try to tell it not to.

I make the short walk from work to Ian’s downtown apartment. It’s small and older, located in a brick building with three other units. He’s waiting for me in the doorway when I make my way up the stairs. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but basketball shorts and a pair of Nike slide sandals.

“How was work?” he asks before taking a sip of his Budweiser.

I walk past him and he shuts the door behind me. “Not bad. We were crazy busy last week so I had a ton of work to get caught up on, and we just hired a new person so I had to help get all of their paperwork entered into the system.”

He sits down in his recliner and then pulls me into his lap, gripping my bare thigh before flipping on the tv. The channel isset to ESPN, as always. Ian is nothing if not predictable. I think that’s probably the main reason I decided to date him, actually. I feel like I’ve had enough tumultuousness in relationships for one lifetime. He is 100% even keel. Born and raised in Willow Grove with no plans of leaving.

He’s also the opposite of Alex in every way. His curly brown hair and dark, almond shaped eyes remind me nothing of my ex. I’m thankful for that.

Maisie introduced us about a year ago, probably hoping that I’d fall madly in love with him and leave behind all of my heartbreak and memories of Alex. That didn’t end up happening, but he was cute and nice enough that I agreed to this arrangement. We sleep together, grab dinner sometimes, talk about our day, but it doesn’t go further than that. He says he doesn’t want anything serious with anyone, and as badly as I miss having a serious relationship, I don’t think my heart will ever allow for it to happen again.

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