Page 82 of The Boyfriend List
“London isn’t going.” I brace myself for her response. The day has been a blur of apartment-cleaning and last-minute packing; I’ve barely had time to process the fact that London won’t be there until now. I stare at the matching travel pillows that we bought on a whim at the dollar store, because they’re bubble tea-patterned. “He… He had some family stuff happen and he won’t be able to make it.”
“Oh.” Her tone softens. “Well, then let’s take the Dorapolis jet there. Andreas isn’t using it, and neither is Yiayia.”
“Are you sure?” Then I bite back my words. Raina is in her third trimester of pregnancy. Of course she’d rather fly in a private jet than slum it in economy with me. I check my plane tickets, grateful I paid extra so they’re refundable. “I mean, thank you.”
“Don’t even mention it. Do you want me to come over? We can have a girls’ night and watch Jane Austen movies.”
“It’s okay. I should probably get a good night’s rest before we have to fly all day. Are you sure you’re okay coming with me on such short notice?”
“Gloria, I could never abandon you in your time of need. Now go to sleep before you try to talk me out of going.” With that, she adds, “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” The line goes dead as she hangs up.
The next day, my apartment feels too-empty without London in it. Even though he only spent the night of Savannah’s wedding on my couch, my home is full of traces of him. There’s a valet slip he left in the bathroom, his scent of cedar and eucalyptus lingering in the air, and a glasses cleaning cloth that must have fallen out of his pocket by the door.
We didn’t even break up. Why do I feel so hollow inside? My phone buzzes with a text from London telling me to have a safe flight.
I don’t bother to respond. I shouldn’t feel so betrayed—so angry—so incomprehensibly sad. His words echo through my mind.All I do is try to make other people happy.Did he feel like that with me? With my list? Like he was trying to mold himself into someone he isn’t in order to earn my affections?
DidImake him feel that way?
There’s no time to dwell on my thoughts as I gather my passport, credit cards, and bag. I make one last sweep of the apartment to make sure the stove is off and I haven’t left any lights on or curling irons plugged in. Satisfied thatthe apartment won’t flood or catch on fire in the week that I won’t be here, I bring my luggage downstairs to await Raina and Kostas’ promised limousine.
I barely register the drive to the airport and the customs form we fill out when we get there. On the plane, Raina and I alternate between chatting, napping (mostly her), watching chick flicks, and reading. Kostas sits in the other corner of the jet, hunched over his laptop as he works on something related to his winery.
Using the Wi-Fi on the jet, I text my family to let them know about my change of plans. They don’t ask too many questions, fortunately, just saying they’re excited to see me and meet my friends. Raina has met my family once when my parents and Paulo flew over for my graduation from UCLA. But they haven’t met Kostas yet.
Dread constricts my ribs as I think about my family’s response to the news that London couldn’t make it. Will they think I was lying about our relationship? Or that he’s a flake? And what would I tell them? The same thing I told Raina? Would they understand?
I suck in a deep breath to settle my nerves. I just need to give London what he asked for. Time and space to process everything. And to enjoy my time with my family while I can.
Dinner in the Romero household on the first night of my trip is a grand feast. The table groans with the weight of the food Mom cooked, which is way more than seven people—my family, Eddie, Raina, and Kostas—can possibly eat. The aromas of soy sauce and garlic, as well as other sauces, spices, and herbs, emanate from the kitchen.
There's everything fromlechon(roasted suckling pig) andkare kare(oxtail stew) tolumpia(similar to spring rolls) andturon(likelumpia, but with bananas in them) for dessert. I try to eat enough so that my mom doesn't say I’m too skinny and tell me to eat more. Raina tries everything with gusto, asdoes Kostas, and I can't help but wonder how London would react if he was here.
Not that there's any point to wondering. His sister’s wedding banquet had enough exotic food to last a lifetime. He wouldn't balk at eating anything on the table here.
But he's not here.
His absence tears a hole in my chest, and I push my food around my bowl, picking at my garlic fried rice. Even though I logically understand why he chose to stay in L.A., and that he needs to process everything that’s happened with his family, I still wish he could be sitting next to me.
Mom must notice my lack of appetite, because she pulls me into the kitchen halfway through dinner, asking me to help prepare drinks and dessert.
Instead of putting me to work, however, she sits me down on a barstool. "Why isn't London here?"
One look at her concerned expression and soft brown eyes, and all the fears I had come rushing back.
“He had some family stuff come up that he needed to deal with,” I say with a sigh.
“Oh, sweetheart.” My mom pats me on the hand. “I hope he’s doing okay. Is someone in the hospital?”
It’s so like her to be concerned with people’s health, since most of my family are doctors.
“No. Nothing like that.” I rub my temples. “His parents are getting a divorce, and he only found out a few days ago.”
I expect judgment from her, since we grew up going to Mass every Sunday, and she’s the religious, veil-wearing type.
Instead, she sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll pray for his family.”
