Page 129 of Perfect Mess

“But you can’t Mary. You can’t just take it all back. What’s done is done.”

“It’s not too late,” I started. “We’ll just start over. You know, take it from the top.” I fired my laser beam and Gary’s force field bounced it right back in my face.

“It doesn’t work that way, Mary.” Gary looked at me long and hard. “At least not for me, it doesn’t.” His next words seeped out through clenched teeth. “Besides, like you said, you and I would be a disaster.”

Gary got up from the bench.

He began walking back toward the parking lot.

I waited for him to stop.

I waited for him to turn back around.

He didn’t.

Just like that … he was gone.

I sat there staring after him, kept sitting there, long after he left.

After the cemetery, that’s when I knew it was really over. Gary and I were through. The final nail hammered into the coffin, and any chance we ever had tossed in a hole and buried deep underground.

As I trudged back across the cemetery, weaving in and out of the tombstones, I realized Ralph had been right. I should have just left Gary alone. The poor guy had been through enough thanks to me. So I swore to myself I wouldn’t repeat my mistakes. I made a promise to myself that I would never see or talk to Gary ever again.

ChapterThirty-One

Acouple days later, I was laying in bed, tossing and turning, my brain racing like it had been every night for weeks. No matter what I did to distract myself, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I’d done to train wreck my life. Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, the realization came to me like a vision from the divine. It was like I finally figured out the answer to the unsolvable algebra equation I had been wrestling with for eternity.

You see, I had spent all my waking hours for weeks fixing and re-fixing Aunt Catherine’s house. Rearranging the furniture, testing out fresh scents on the candles, switching out tchotchkes and knickknacks. But there was always this gnawing feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Something out of place. Something that didn’t quite belong. Finally, I knew exactly what it was I did wrong.

I had remodeled Aunt Catherine’s house in all the latest styles and trends. Black furniture. Pendant lighting. Painting all the walls greige. But that wasn’t Aunt Catherine’s house. I was trying to force it to be something it wasn’t.

Maybe if I stopped trying to bend the Universe to my will …

Maybe if I stopped trying to force things to be what they’re not …

Maybe if I just chilled the hell out …

Not even waiting for the sun to come up, I grabbed the leftover paint supplies from the shed and went straight to work. I kept at it all day until my hands ached and my knees throbbed. And my stomach threatened to eat itself if I didn’t take a break for dinner, especially since I had worked through breakfast and lunch.

Strolling through Fresh Foods, heading toward the single serve frozen dinner aisle, I noticed a BOGO deal on arthritis cream. I went with the extra strength for my sore muscles and joints, then remembered I needed toilet paper and tampons, too. Maneuvering past a pyramid of boxed noodles, I had to yank my cart to a halt. Out of nowhere, some idiot swerved his cart right in front of me. I almost plowed right into him. When I looked up, about to give the reckless cart owner an earful, I realized the reckless cart owner was Gary.

“Hey Mary,” said Kyle, arms cradling an extra large box of Goldfish.

“Hey Kyle.” My eyes flicked to his father, standing, staring right in front of me. “Hey Gary.”

“Mary.” Gary’s head never moved.

Once I picked my jaw off the floor, I looked over at the contents of Gary’s cart. Noodles. Frozen chicken breasts. A loaf of bread and sauce. “Chicken Parm?” I asked.

Gary nodded. Then his eyes passed over the extra strength arthritis medicine, extra strength toilet paper, and extra strength carton of tampons in my cart. To his credit, he didn’t run away from me screaming.

For what seemed like forever, we stood there in the middle of the aisle staring at each other like two awkward teenagers at a school dance. Looking for a distraction, I noticed something else in Gary’s cart. A six-pack of SourPaw glistened like an oasis in the desert. Drips of condensation dribbled down the bottles.

Speaking of six packs, Gary wore his Yale T-shirt again, the one that showcased the lines of his body as if it were made of invisible cloth. The now familiar scent of his mint and jasper cologne brought back a flood of memories and feelings. Once again, my brain went rogue. Those kinds of thoughts and feelings were only going to make things worse.

“Sorry, I’ll get out of your way.” I moved my cart to the left, just as Gary moved his cart to the right, so we ended up blocking each other again.

“Sorry,” said Gary. This time, he moved left, and I moved right, ending with the same result.

---