Page 34 of Love Redesigned
It took a long time for her to respond. For how long the little dots bounced at the bottom of my phone screen, I expected a much longer text. Instead, it was just one sentence.
But you don’t think I should trust Sasha.
At least that was a question I could answer. I’d made no secret of my distrust for Sasha, even before I left LeFranc.
No. My feelings about that haven’t changed.
Several minutes went by with no response. I waited, occupying myself with a scroll through Dani’s photo feed on Instagram. It was mostly her clothes—she worked hard to maintain a professional online presence—but there was an occasional photo of her face. I lingered on those the longest.
After ten minutes with no response, I texted her again.
Dani, are you in trouble?
Again, no response.
I dropped the phone on my desk with a heavy thud, a knot of dread forming in my stomach. Something was up. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t my problem. It wasn’t, even if Dani was in trouble. She’d made her choice and I’d made mine. There wasn’t a reason for me to keep thinking about her, and yet, I couldn’t escape.
I looked around the sparsely furnished bedroom I occupied in Isaac’s home. A bed, a small desk. A chair in the corner. Without even realizing it, I’d furnished the room to look like a slightly grown-up version of my childhood bedroom. The furniture held the same clean, simple lines and the muted blues and grays of the bedding, and the chair in the corner was an echo of what my father would have chosen. Dani’s question hovered in my mind. WhydidI live with Isaac? It wasn’t as though I couldn’t afford to live on my own. I’d meant what I told her about believing the job was only temporary, but even after I’d decided to continue the work, why did I stay? Why hadn’t I found my own place?
Laughter sounded down the hallway, Tyler’s booming laugh, followed by Steven’s lower-pitched chuckle. Isaac knocked on my open door before sticking his head in. “Hey. Mushroom brought home fried chicken. Want to eat?”
I nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right there.”
“Cool.” He banged his hand on the door jamb before disappearing back down the hall and into the kitchen. “He’s coming, ya’ll,” I heard him say. “Save him something.”
I’d opted to furnish my space with new furniture—it didn’t feel right taking things Malorie was presently using—but I’d gathered up several boxes of personal belongings that I’d missed while living in New York. There was a conch shell I’d found one morning on an early jog on Sullivan’s Island, as well as several sand dollars I’d collected through years of summer bonfires on the beach. There was my stack of Pat Conroy novels and the Mason jar of traditional Charleston moonshine my dad had purchased for me the summer I’d turned sixteen. He’d promised we’d open it the night I turned twenty-one. He’d already been sick by then, distracted by cancer treatments and his efforts to still care for his new family. It had felt wrong to bring it up, to make it a priority when he had so much else going on.
The randomness and clutter that filled the room would have looked wrong in my New York apartment, all sleek and modern. It would have looked wronganywherein that version of my life. And maybethat’swhy I’d stayed at Isaac’s so long. Because the world I’d built for myself living in New York didn’t feel like a real life. It felt like a magazine cover—like a representation of who the world expected me to be, even though it had very little to do with who I actuallywantedto be. But this place felt so much more like someone I recognized.
My eyes fell on the sweetgrass basket I’d purchased on a whim a few weeks back after striking up a conversation with a woman selling them in front of the courthouse downtown. Dani had told me once she’d always wanted one and had often talked about saving up for one of the handmade treasures. In retrospect, it was clear I’d bought it for her, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually give it to her. I wasn’t sure she’d take it if I tried.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through my photos, going back to when Dani and I had been together. I’d told her that my New York life hadn’t been an accurate reflection of the person I wanted to be, and that had been the truth. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t truth to our relationship. A lot of what we’d had had been real—as real as the room I’d carefully built for myself in Charleston. But what about how she felt? What could I possibly be to Dani if all I had to offer her was a single room in her brother’s house?
More importantly, why did I suddenly care?
I scrolled through a few more photos, Dani’s face filling my screen. Dani on my couch, the tall windows overlooking the city behind her. Dani in Java Jean’s. Dani behind the sewing machine in her tiny loft in Chelsea, her nose wrinkled in concentration. Dani leaning against the pillows in my bedroom, blonde hair tumbling down her shoulder. Dani and me together in front of the marquee sign forHamiltonright after I’d surprised her with tickets. It was the night of our first kiss.
I tossed the phone back onto the bed and pressed my face into my hands in frustration. I couldn’t think about Dani this way. It was too dangerous, too painful. I’d been gutted over our break-up, though she’d likely find that hard to believe. Life had only just begun to feel normal again.
I fled to the kitchen, hoping company would help. I dropped into a chair next to Mushroom and reached for a plate.
“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Mushroom asked. “You look angry.”
I sighed as I piled potato salad onto my plate. “Not angry. Just...distracted, I guess.”
“Woman trouble?” Tyler asked. “I’m guessing woman trouble.”
I met Isaac’s eyes across the table and shrugged. “Something like that.”
Tyler waited, his fork poised above his plate, a look of expectancy on his face. “And?” he said when I didn’t offer any additional information. “Elaborate and maybe we can help you.”
“There isn’t anything else to say. It’s notrecenttrouble. I ran into an ex in New York and seeing her messed with my head a little bit.”
“You need a distraction,” Vinnie offered through a bite of fried chicken. “Someone new.”
I hadn’t given much thought to dating over the past year. I’d talked to a few women here and there but getting over Dani had felt like full-time work. Anything beyond talking had felt almost impossible. But maybe itwaswhat I needed.
“Text Jasmine back,” Isaac offered from his end of the table. “Hasn’t she asked you out a dozen times or something?”
