Page 68 of The Keeper
When I come down the stairs, ready for my own date, she’s standing at the door sorting through her clutch. She’s dressed to kill in a classy red cap-sleeved silk dress with a sweetheart neckline. Her hair is up in an incredibly complicated twist. I think it’s called a chignon, but the only interesting hairstyle I know is the french braid, so I can’t be sure.
She looks elegant and understated in her beauty, which isn’t her normal look. She’s much more of a ‘check out my awesome rack’ kind of girl, rather than someone who pays homage to Audrey Hepburn in the fashion department.
“Charlie,” I breathe. “You look amazing!”
Her eyes flip up to me and for a brief moment, I think she’s going to say something about how she’s dressed. She looks vulnerable. Breathtakingly beautiful, but nervous. Not the Charlie I know.
But then her eyes narrow and she scans me up and down. She rolls her eyes and snorts.
“You couldn’t manage anything other than jeans for Mack, and then you dress likethatfor this Thomas guy, who you don’t even care about?” She shakes her head and struts towards the door.
I stand frozen halfway down the stairs in my black dress. The one dress I own that makes me feel beautiful. And Charlie has just made me it clear that the dress is doing nothing to hide my shameful behavior.
“Have fun on yourdate,” she mocks. “Try not to rip this guy’s heart out too, would you?”
The slam of the door startles me even though I knew it was coming. I stay on the stairs for a few minutes, unsure what to do with myself. I just stand there, frozen, Charlie’s words seeping through me.
It’s a knock on the door that forces me out of my trance, and when I open it, my heart breaks at Thomas standing on my porch with a small bouquet in his hands.
“RJ, wow,” he says with a sweet smile. “You look… wow, you look beautiful.”
I must stand there for too long without saying anything, because his smile fades a little bit.
“You okay?”
I nod too hard and open the door, indicating that Thomas should come inside. The minute he places a foot across the threshold of my apartment, I put a hand onto his chest to stop him.
He takes a step back, looking incredibly confused.
“I’m guessing you’re not okay?”
When I finally find my voice, I’m surprised about what comes out of it.
“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I can’t go on a date with you tonight.”
He shifts slightly on his feet, and my heart clenches as the unsure look on his face.
“Did you…” he clears his throat, “… did you want to reschedule?”
There is a very tiny smile on his face and just the right amount of hope in his voice for me to know I’m making the right decision, no matter how my stomach turns over at my choice. I need to call it off now before I risk hurting him further. The last thing I need on my conscience is another wounded heart.
I shake my head slightly.
“No.” My words are a whisper, but I know he hears them when that small smile slips away completely. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. You are handsome and smart and charming, and if I wasn’t totally hung up on someone else, I would feel so lucky to be going on a date with you tonight.”
“But youarehung up on someone else.” I nod and he lets out a breath. “I knew I should have asked sooner. I just couldn’t get up the nerve.”
He shakes his head a little bit and looks down at his shoes. His shiny shoes, beneath his slacks, which has a collared shirt tucked into it. He’s even wearing a tie, which he reaches up to adjust slightly.
“There’s not any chance in the future, is there.”
He doesn’t say it as a question, so I know he already knows the answer. When I shake my head no in confirmation, he nods.
“Thanks for at least being honest,” he says, taking a step back. “And you really do look beautiful, RJ. I’m sure if the guy you’re hung up on doesn’t figure his shit out quickly, there are loads of guys who would love to be on your arm.”
If only he knew it was my own fault that I was alone. But I don’t tell him that. Instead I allow him to hand me the bouquet and kiss me lightly on the cheek. Then I wave slightly and close the door on Thomas’ retreating form. I walk slowly into the living room and sit down on the couch, staring at a blank television screen.
I feel out of control. My emotions. My fears. My decisions. It’s like I never know what I’m going to do or say until right when I do or say it. I’ve never been that person. I’m ‘thoughtful and intentional’ according to Charlie. I’m ‘a future thinker’ according to Jeremy.
