Page 73 of Love You Madly

The days blur together, one after the other, each one feeling more like I’m drifting farther from who I used to be. I’ve been trying to keep things going with Karissa, hoping that maybe something would reignite between us if we spent more time together. But every time I’m with her, it’s like my mind drifts back to Callie, replaying every moment we shared, every laugh, every smile. I can’t stop comparing and I feel fucking terrible about it.

Sunday night, we went to this new restaurant in town, one of those trendy places with dim lighting, overpriced cocktails, and tiny portions that are supposed to be gourmet. I wanted to believe that a change of scenery might bring us closer. But even as we sat across from each other, talking about our days, about work, about her friends, I found myself tuning her out more than I care to admit. All I could think about was how Callie would probably laugh at the pretentious menu, making some sarcastic comment that would instantly lighten the mood.

It’s not just the conversations that feel off; it’s everything. We’ve spent time together, sure, but we haven’t really been intimate. It’s not that Karissa isn’t attractive–she’s beautiful, no doubt–but there’s a nagging sense in the back of my mind that something’s fundamentally wrong. The spark just isn’t there. I keep thinking back to Callie’s smile, wishing I had a picture of her… or had gotten her fucking last name.

It’s not Karissa’s fault that there’s this emptiness she can’t seem to fill. I can’t bring myself to just rip off the bandaid and end it. But I need to. There have been moments when she’s asked me if everything’s okay.

She asked it softly one night as we sat on her couch, the glow of the TV casting shadows across her face. We watchedThe Notebook–yes; she tried toNotebookme–and I spotted her more than once during the film looking over at me to see if I was having any kind of emotional reaction. When the movie was over, she asked me if everything was okay and I tried to play it off.

But even as I nodded, I could feel the weight of my own lies. How could I tell her that every love story just reminds me of the girl that I stuck in the friendzone without giving us a fair shot because of the windshield time?

By Wednesday, I had replayed that conversation in my head a thousand times, wondering if she could tell that I’m struggling to see the point to move forward in our relationship. We haven’t been together that long and might as well have a clean break now.

Then, out of the blue, I get the call that could change everything for me.

I’m elbow-deep in pipe dope adhesive, trying to fix a busted valve, when my phone rings. The number’s unfamiliar, and I almost let it go to voicemail. I’m not in the mood for telemarketers, but something makes me answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Owen?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“This is Sandra from the Verizon store in the Iowa City Mall. Someone turned in a phone and according to the serial numbers, it belongs to you. They said they found it in the drop ceiling above the hospital lab.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I stand there, my phone pressed to my ear, stunned. I can’t believe it. “You found my phone? That’s amazing! I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I hang up, still in shock. After all this time, my phone—the one with all the photos and texts from Callie—has been found.I should feel relieved, maybe even excited. I’ll finally have Barrett’s pictures back, along with all the memories attached to them. But it hits me that this is about more than just a phone. It’s about everything I’ve been avoiding.

I stand there, wiping my hands, the weight of the moment sinking in. I’ve been pushing down feelings, trying to move forward, but no matter how hard I try, Callie is always there, just beneath the surface.

The thought of having Barrett’s pictures again chokes me up, but it’s not just the photos—it’s everything tied to them. All the little moments I’ve tried to forget, every conversation with Callie, every laugh, every text. It feels like I’m being handed a second chance, not just with the phone, but to finally confront what I’ve been running from.

I let out a long breath, the wrench heavy in my hand. Maybe it’s time to stop avoiding the truth and face what I really want—and who I really want it with.

thirty-one

I TOUCH MYSELF - DIVINYLS

CALLIE - JULY 10, 2013

By Wednesday, I have never been more thankful for Amazon Prime in my life. I took Brooke’s advice and splurged on a few new toys. My sex drive is already incredibly high and when I am pregnant, it’s even worse.

As soon as I get the notification that packages have been delivered, I rush out the door to grab them like a kid excited to see what Santa brought on Christmas morning.

I open the package and wipe down my new rabbit vibrator before slipping back into bed. I close my eyes and search back through my mental spank bank, struggling to create a scene in my mind to help get me in the mood.

It’s been too long since I’ve had mind blowing sex and I try thinking of different scenarios but nothing seems to get me there. I grab some of my new lube off the nightstand and just let the toy do its job, trying to clear my head completely.

The setting I selected has a low speed pulse on the shaft and a quicker pulsing vibration on the rabbit. I slide the tip ofthe toy between the lips of my pussy allowing the lower vibration on the head of the toy to hover on my clit for a moment before sliding it lower and pushing it inside me.

With the toy fully inside me, the rabbit vibrates against my clit and the sensation almost tickles. It quickly becomes overwhelming. I click the button on the bottom of the toy twice to slow down the pulse on the rabbit, allowing myself to ease into the new sensation. Usually when I take care of myself, I focus on my clit only so this combination of being filled while the toy vibrates against my clit is more than I’m used to. And I don’t hate it.I should have gotten one of these a long time ago.

My mind drifts to thoughts of having a man’s head between my legs, wishing his tongue would slowly massage my clit in the way that the toy isn’t able to. The picture in my mind becomes more clear as my mind drifts to Owen. Since I’ve never met him in person and I don’t know what he’s actually like in bed, I’m able to mold the images in my mind to what would make me feel good.

I remember his beard and fantasize about what it would feel like to have him between my legs. Wondering if the hair above his top lip would tickle in the same way the rabbit toy does. I imagine him tasting me, worshiping me… sliding two fingers inside me slowly while he sucks on my clit and I swallow hard. The thought of him tasting me quickly turns to me wondering what I would taste like on his tongue.

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