Page 145 of Sharkbait
GAIL:Call you in five.
I exit my room, pluck a taped pink number three off my door, and throw it in the bathroom wastebasket, then start brushing my teeth.
Mabel has been finding little ways to remind me that James is leaving soon. Each morning this week, I’ve found a little note on my bedroom door with the number of days left until he flies away.
The reminders are completely unnecessary.
I could tell you the number of minutes left before he leaves.
Because he’s all I think about.
All day, every day.
I finish brushing and rinse.
True to his word, James has given me the space I asked for. And it sucks.
Calliope was kind to me that morning when she picked me up. The girl who always crosses the line knew from one look at my tearstained face that I wasn’t up for answering questions or taking any advice. So she didn’t push me.
At first.
Now, however, I’m getting constant texts from her that look like this:
CALLIOPE:Have you called him yet?
ME:No.
CALLIOPE:Are you going to?
ME:No.
CALLIOPE:Woman, are you crazy?
ME:No.
In my heart, I know I’m not crazy.
I’m doing what I have to do to look at myself in the mirror.
I’ve sold myself short so many times over the years. I’ve let myself believe that who I am and what I want out of life isn’t as important as whatever man is in my life at the time. I’ve let them define me. It started with my dad, then continued with every single guy who came into my life after him.
So if I were to take James up on his offer to go with him to Hawaii—to partner with him in his company—wouldn’t I be doing the same thing all over again? Giving up my identity to be a part of his?
My phone rings. The screen lights up with Gail’s name.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Hey, girl, hey. You okay?”
“Yes? No? I don’t know. Let’s talk about you, though. We always talk about me, and I hate the idea of having a one-sided friendship with you.”
“Lou. You texted me because you needed support, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” I sigh.
“So lay it on me.”
I give her an abbreviated version of everything between James and me over the past three months as I make myself a coffee and shuffle out to sit on the front stoop.
