Page 105 of Is This for Real?
Zelda hails us a cab. “I’m not taking the subway at this hour.”
“Do you think it’s over between me and Rory?” I lean against the cab’s fake-leather seat, watching New York City whoosh by as the cab drives up 10thAvenue.
“No. He just got swept into Callie’s drama. And then his dad’s drama. And because you’re not demanding like Callie, he probably thought you’d understand.”
“Should I understand?” I ask.
“You should tell him how it made you feel,” Zelda says.
It made me feel like I was being pushed out. This is why I’m afraid of love. It just ends up hurting you deep inside.
Chapter forty
I’minmypajamas,fluffing up my pillow, when my phone rings. Rory.
“You left,” he says.
“I was tired. And I didn’t want to be sitting out in the living room cleaning up the party after you barked at me to leave you alone.”
“I’m sorry. I missed my whole party. I’ve never seen Callie fall apart like that. And then my dad.”
“I know.” I stare at my dollhouse at the foot of my bed--with its picture-perfect scenes. Even when I showed a mess, it didn't have the depth of this disaster.
“I wanted that party to be perfect for us,” he says.
“I looked forward to it, too. I looked forward to our dance. It was like we were sharing the joy we found at theCasablancaSilent Cinema night with all our friends, and instead, you just threw that all over the minute Callie came calling.” I’m angry.
“I didn’t.”
“You made me feel like the dumped girlfriend. I felt really sad.” Expressing my emotions is good.
“I thought you were enjoying the party. I saw you dancing with Jamie. I came out.”
“I danced two dances with Jamie," I say. "They weren’t even slow dances. And that’s not the point. You were occupied with other people for theentireparty.” My bedroom is dark. Light from an exterior sconce on the outdoor deck of the building across the backyard filters through my shades, spotlighting Piper standing alone on the balcony. I can hear faint murmurs of a conversation from that deck outside.
“What am I supposed to do?" he says. I can envision him running his hand through his wavy hair. "I can’t tell my dad I’m having a party and he has to call back later.”
“But you can tell me repeatedly that you’re too busy to be with me during the party we are throwing together.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. He’d just yelled at me. And then I yelled at you.”
“Don’t take it out on me,” I say. “That’s not how it works.”
“How do you know how it works?”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. My voice is quiet. “I know how it doesn’t work because I saw it with my parents.” I hang up.
Chapter forty-one
Iwakeupthenext morning, and I don’t feel better. This is our first big fight. Ever. I’m not sure where we stand. I check my phone. An email from the agent who requested the full manuscript greets me:
Dear Penelope,
I’m afraid I have to decline. I have to fall in love with a project, and I didn’t feel that level of emotion. It didn’t live up to its promise for me.
Best,
Angela
