Page 103 of My So-Called Perfect Life
Chapter Thirty-Four
Danielle
The fall air is crispand cool as it blows between the buildings. It’s the perfect day for UGGs, a hoodie, and a pumpkin spice latte as Ryan and I walk hand in hand through the crowds of people traversing the city. He took this afternoon off, giving us a chance to get out together since school is closed for Yom Kippur.
Ryan is physically present next to me, but something’s off with him. We’ve been together long enough for me to be able to read his moods. Things are as usual as we walk around the block near his place. Conversation flows fine, body language is good, but at the same time, it’s like his heart and part of his mind are somewhere else.
It’s as if he’s . . . distracted. Off somewhere in his mind. It almost seems like a whole silent thought process is happening with him while we’re together, and he is keeping it hidden from me, which strikes me as odd. He’s always been straightforward with me about how things are going. He’s always been interested in what’s going on with me.
It’s been like this since the night Mercy won the concert tickets. Despite my best efforts to enjoy the concert, in the back of my mind, I felt like it was driving a wedge between the two of us. Yes, sure, he asked about the concert and the rest of my weekend, but it’s like there’s a part of him that’s not connecting with what I’m telling him. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but it’s as if he’s just going through the motions as opposed to … I don’t know … absorbing what I’m saying.
We turn left down Wilshire and come across a park. I motion to the benches facing the pond. “Can we sit?”
“Sure,” he says, his voice flat.
I lead him to the bench farthest from the path, the one with the most privacy. When we sit, our fingers are still entwined, so I pull our joined hands into my lap.
“Is everything all right?” I ask. “You seem a bit off.”
His body stiffens, and I feel the pulse of something not good start beating between us. He doesn’t answer right away. He stares off into the pond, watching the fountain splash in the center.
He finally breaks the silence, and his tone is hollow. “Do you think about the future?”
The question throws me off. Ryan and I don’t typically live in the future. We’ve been the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type. Ryan has been instilling a sense of spontaneity in me, teaching me to live in the moment. He’s pushed me to be free and treasure the little moments, stealing them as they present themselves, even if it’s not in the plan. The future has yet to come up for us.
I do my best to keep an even voice in spite of the odd question. “I do.”
His head remains forward, eyes still focused on the water. “What do you see?” His voice is still eerily detached.
I collect my thoughts as I stare off into the autumn foliage of the trees, picturing what I want in my future. “I see happiness. A great life with people I love. Making the most of every day. I picture building a life, created from love and everything that grows from it.”
He nods. “I see happiness too. A family with the love of my life. Children. Traditions. Stability.”
This I know. Ryan has never had a serious relationship. He’s never really been on the lookout for one. He’s always been seen as a good time and noncommittal. I can’t say I didn’t think those things about him when I first met him. Not that I was thinking about getting a commitment from him at the time. My heart was in a million pieces. I definitely thought of him as an experience though. I can’t deny that.
“Sometimes, we don’t see things until we’re ready for them.”
He turns, finally looking at me. The way he seems to stare deep into my soul rattles me to the core. “What if they aren’t ready for us?”
Surprisingly, the answer to that question comes without much thought. “Then, signs will tell you. Like a forgotten phone.”
Scott’s forgotten phone was the only thing that let me know marriage wasn’t ready for me. Without it, I would’ve lived a miserable life with nothing but heartbreak and a husband who didn’t love or respect me.
Ryan is quiet, his gaze now staring off into the space somewhere behind me. “Like a niggling feeling in the back of your mind?”
Deep down, I feel this conversation isn’t leading somewhere good. Ryan is clearly trying to deal with something he is second-guessing. “Possibly. What’s going on? Are you rethinking the new bar?”
He sighs. “No, I’m talking”—he pauses as his eyes find mine—“about us.”
I’m not sure I understand what he’s saying. Things between us are good, outside of whatever is going on now. “Us?”
“Yes,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you. I wasn’t looking for you. But the moment I laid eyes on you and your swollen punching hand, there was just something different in the air. I didn’t see the future in anything more than abstract until I met you. You’ve already planned out a whole future with another man, and I doubt you’ve started thinking about it again—”
“You don’t know that,” I interrupt him, pulling my hand out of his as a feeling of dread envelops me like a thick cloud of smog.
“Either way,” he continues, “you still have a lot to figure out. You deserve the right to be able to do so. I just can’t be strung along for the ride.”
A bit of anger rises in my gut. “I haven’t been stringing you along on anything, Ryan.”
