Page 51 of Play Me
The idea of hearing his voice makes my stomach tighten so hard that I want to hurl. I’ve sent him a text and an email to the last personal and work email addresses that I had from before we broke up. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t responded. Now I’m not sure what to do.
Not calling him would be the easiest way to move forward.
Memories from our relationship barrel their way through my mind, elbowing through the barriers I set up to keep them out. My heart races immediately, and sweat dampens my armpits and behind my knees. I tell myself it’s from the last hour of walking, but that’s not true. It’s a trauma response … one I haven’t quite worked through yet.
I can’t let that keep me from advocating for myself.
I pick up my phone and hop off the pad, feeling the baby hairs on the back of my neck cling to my skin. I press each number with determination and grind my teeth, hating how defenseless I am when dealing with Trace. He knew too much about me. He had too much access to my fears and pain—and he used them like a sharpened axe and hacked his way through my heart.Leaving me shattered in every way.
The line rings once, then twice. I shift the phone between my hands, practicing what I’m going to say, reminding myself to be calm and confident. He holds nothing over me anymore—no truths, secrets, or power.Nothing.
My heart lurches at the sound of his recorded voice instructing me to leave a message. I sag against my bookshelf in relief that he didn’t answer and hang up before the beep.
“Look at you,” I say to the empty room. “You’re all bold and brave in public, but a big baby in private.”
I clutch the phone to my chest and take a deep breath. Before I can overthink things or get stuck in a bad place, I pull up the tab with the attorney’s information that Audrey sent this morning and place a call. As it rings, I wonder what my friends would say if they could see me now—sweaty and anxious over calling my ex-boyfriend. This certainly isn’t the Astrid they know.
“Good morning,” a cheerful voice says, answering the phone. “Thank you for calling Dixon Legal Group. This is Wanda. How may I assist you?”
“Hi, Wanda. My name is Astrid Lawsen,” I say, clearing my throat. “I was referred to you by my friend Audrey Van.”
“What can we do for you, Ms. Lawsen?”
“I received a letter from an attorney a couple of days ago regarding unpaid rent, utilities, and damages to an apartment that I lived in with a former boyfriend. They’re threatening to sue me, but the rental agreement was never in my name, and I moved out of there years ago. I’m not sure what I should do.”
“Okay, Ms. Lawsen. I can get you in for a free consultation with Dennis Dixon next Thursday at two thirty. Does that work for you?”
The wordfreeis music to my ears. “That works. Absolutely.”
“Let me get a bit of information from you.”
“Sure.”
I answer a few basic questions and agree to email her office the letter I received. It’s the most painless thing I’ve done in a while. I end the call and feel a sense of relief, but also of being supported—of not fighting this alone—and I’m not sure which feeling is better.
I tap out a text to the group chat to let Audrey know I made the call.
Me: I got an appointment, Aud. You’re the best.
Audrey: Yay! I met Dennis Dixon at a fundraiser last year, and he was super sharp. If he’ll take you on, he’ll do a great job.
Me: Well, I didn’t talk to him. I do that next week. But his assistant was a doll.
Gianna: A doll? Are you talking about me again? Kidding. Glad you got an appointment, Astrid. Check your email. I sent you the question for the column.
Audrey: So I don’t get to know the question? Rude.
Gianna: The question is essentially this … A woman wrote that she’s in a relationship with her guy and she loves him, but she also loves other men flirting with her. She wants to know if it’s cheating or if it means she doesn’t love her guy to the depths of her soul.
Me: I’m getting paid to answer this?
Audrey: Oooh. That’s a tough one. I’d need more context before I could form an opinion.
I wander out to the living room and flop down on the sofa. My friends go back and forth on their first instincts about how they’d form their replies. I don’t chime in. Instead, I consider it quietly.
There are so many ways to think about this. I don’t know that it’s cheating, exactly, but it’s undoubtedly not an indication of a strong relationship.Or is it? Is she just being honest?
Audrey: What are you thinking, Astrid?
