Page 70 of Love Resurrected
“Everything was fine at first. But after a couple years, they were all still doing the couple thing, and I was the odd woman out. While I don’t think it was intentional it was definitely hurtful, as they excluded me more and more from social activities. So, I agreed to be set up with a man who was also recently widowed. We were a sad sack, let me tell you. I don’t believe the relationship”—she uses air quotes with that last word—“was healthy for either of us. But I so wanted to be a part of my old life again, I stuck with it.”
She takes a long drink of her martini, almost finishing it. “It was never more than platonic, but I think we both tried to force something more that should never have been. After I broke it off for good, I joined a singles group. And a while ago, I met a very nice man and our relationship is anything but platonic.” She winks, causing me to choke on my sip of margarita.
“My point being,” Nessa continues, “is that I tried to force myself to be in a place I wasn’t ready for, so I could fit in with my friends better. My life had changed irrevocably, but theirs had not. In your case, it’s the opposite. Your friends are all married and having babies, and you aren’t. It’s natural to feel compelled to rush your life to catch up with theirs. Especially since your best friend is having a baby.”
She makes sense with what she says. It’s sad to think that way, like I’m trying to force something that isn’t there, just so I can have something in common with Sadie, but it still makes sense.
“I get what you’re saying.”
“I hope you know I want only the best for you.”
“I know that, thank you, Nessa.” I smile and she does too.
The server brings us our bill.
With nothing much more to say, we finish our drinks, then Nessa pays for happy hour and for both of us to take a Lyft home.
24
Brad
I spend a few hours at the urgent care so they can confirm what I already know—that I broke a couple knuckles when half my fist hit a stud instead of drywall. Hurt like hell. And, it’s my right hand, my dominant one, so I’m fucked for a few weeks for doing anything requiring it. Writing, working out, jacking off.
I took a Lyft here, but Ethan shows up to give me a ride home. He has many things to say in support of what went down last night with Tenley. The sex part, not the leaving part.
“Why wouldn’t you want to feel love again?” he asks as he steers out of the parking complex and onto the main road into downtown.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough shit. You can’t fuck up your hand over a girl and not talk about it.”
I wave my hand dismissively at him. The vibe in the cab of his truck is getting tense.
“Was the sex good?”
“Jesus, E.”
He shrugs.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“Good.” He pauses for a moment, as though trying to figure out how to phrase what he wants to say next. “I think that good sex is the first step toward a good relationship.”
“I’m not getting in a relationship.”
“Okay then, the first step in finding love again. Without a relationship.”
I smirk. “One, who said anything about love? Two, even if it were possible for me to ever feel love again, which I don’t think it is, it definitely wouldn’t be with someone like Tenley.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her?”
“So much.”
“Like what?”
“You aren’t going to agree with me, she’s Sadie’s best friend.”
“I haven’t disagreed with you yet. I’m still waiting for what’s wrong with her.”
