Page 105 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
I roll my eyes at myself.Calm down.It doesn’t even matter, because it’s over now. No point in reading between the lines of his email, imagining how he does or doesn’t feel, just to hurt my own feelings.
I tap off a quick reply:Let’s hold off for a bit. I’m not sure yet. My cousin Ellie might want the place for a few weeks this summer.
A big fat lie. But I don’t want to keep going back and forth with Daniel about the house, about possible tenants. Talking to him hurts too much—way more than I thought it would. So let’s just leave it there for now.
Carmen, forever loyal, texts me within twenty-four hours of my arriving home to ask me to meet up. Tuesday after work, we meet at a new place in Fremont where we sit on a shaded patio, too close to the DJ, eating dumplings and ordering cocktails with names like The Joker You Wish You Never Met. They’re pretty good; I have three.
Carmen asks me about my time in Florida, and she’s so intent on asking for all the details about Gramps and Pebble Cottage and Wally that she doesn’t think to ask if I met anyone there. Any other time, I would have been touched by all her questions—aboutGramps’s health, how he spends his time, and what he gets up to with his senior-citizen friends—but I’m strangely disappointed that I can’t easily drop Daniel into the conversation. It’s not Carmen’s fault that she’s not psychic. And I obviouslycouldtell my best friend all about Daniel. But the hurt that surfaced unexpectedly from his email is clouding my senses. Part of me doesn’t want to talk about him or even think about him. And part of me wishes that Carmen had been there for all of it so I wouldn’t have to explain it all from the beginning.
By the time I’m on the last half of my third cocktail, Carmen is telling me about the incredible sex she had with her latest date, a guy named Hernando, and I feel my descent into moody restlessness. Darkness is gathering around us, and our fellow bar patrons are talking louder to compete with the DJ’s volume. My mind skips like a broken, drunken record. She had this apparently mind-blowing sex with Hernando. And I had it, too—with Daniel. But it already feels like a dream. Like it might have not really happened. I feel so far away from Reina Beach and Daniel and the house—my house—where it happened. Maybe if I were more like Carmen, putting myself out there more often, mind-blowing sex wouldn’t feel so impossible. Because I have had it before… Before Daniel—literal years before him—I had Alex. Alex, Mr. Edelman, he of the chest hair and the books scattered around his apartment and the low, confident voice that makes you lean in closer to catch every word. Eleven years my senior, with the age and experience and emotional intelligence to bring a woman to orgasm slowly, expertly, repeatedly.
“Are you okay?” Carmen asks. I’m sucking my straw, even though my cocktail is gone, and I can feel the frown tugging my eyebrows together.
“What if it was Alex?” I ask.
“Mr. Edelman?” She grins as I glare at her. “What about him?”
“What if it’s him? I mean, what if I’ve been an idiot, and he’s the one I’m meant to be with?”
“Meant to be?” Carmen begins to smirk, but then she sees my face and rearranges her face to get back on my level. “I mean, I always thought you were good together. And he’s so fucking hot.”
“Carmen.” She snickers. “Do you think I was stupid, letting him go?”
“No way.”
“What do you mean?” I eat the last dumpling, cold now.
“Mallory. Please.” She covers my hand with hers and gives me a level stare. “Yeah, he was hot, but that’s, like, it? He never really let you in. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you complaining that he didn’t want to meet your family.”
I grimace. Even years later, the memory rankles.
“He hurt you,” Carmen says.
“You’re right. But I hurt him, too.”
“Yeah, well.” Carmen sits back and swings one leg over the other.
I snort. I could easily list five guys who Carmen has made cry. Maybe ten.
“We had a real relationship, you know? And I ended it with a text.” I knew it was wrong, but it hits home now. Now that I’ve just said goodbye to Daniel without so much as anI miss yousince.
“You know he still texts me sometimes?”
“Really?”
“Every once in a while, he asks if I want to meet for coffee.”
“You think he wants to get back together?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it. It’s not like I think that he’s been pining after me this whole time.”
“Maybe he wants closure,” Carmen says.
“Closure.” I ponder this for a moment. “Has anyone ever told you how wise you are?”
“Not often enough.”
“I think I’m going to go talk to him. I think, maybe, we both need the closure.” As I say this, I’m checking the time, pulling my denim jacket on, opening my Uber app.
