“Enjoy Texas,” she says sarcastically. “Maybe in those parts, cheating on your wife is perfectly normal. The next time I hear someone from a fucking flyover state start talking about ‘family values,’ I’m going to tell them to piss off. Oh, and Chase? You can piss off, too.”
She slams the hotel door behind her, the sound reverberating through my heart.
Fuuuuccckkkk
103
Carla
Becca and I sit at a table at the Papillon, as far away from the live opera as we can get. Becca may love opera, but to me, it just sounds like someone trying to give a cat a bath. Don’t tell Becca that, of course. I like to pretend with the best of them. I even have a “favorite” opera, if anyone asks – Carmen. Never mind that I’ve never been able to get through a single showing of it without falling asleep. The important part is, I can name an opera.
I swirl the Long Island Iced Tea in my hand, trying to block out the caterwauling, as I listen to Becca prattle on.
“I’m not upset with Jason, you know,” she says. “It was fun to play house for a couple of days with a handsome cowboy, but really, his dick was too small for me anyway. I could never be happy with it long-term. I think I was just fooling myself because it was a distraction from regular life, you know? He came over yesterday to get his stuff; tonight is the last show and then they’re heading back home.”
Her words tear at my heart. Chase is leaving? There’s been a part of me that was okay with not being in the same room as him – not happy, but okay – because I knew he was in the same city.
But Becca is right; the show does end tonight, and why would he stay after the show ends? There’s no point in that. It’s not like he loves New York City like I do. It’s not like he’s going to move here, just so he can breathe the same air I do.
It’s not like I want him to do that.
Right?
I realize that there are tears dripping down my face. I’m so embarrassed. I dash at my face with the back of my hands. Without a word, Becca picks up a cocktail napkin and offers it to me. I dab at my face, trying not to smear my makeup everywhere, but let’s be honest – I’ve never been a pretty crier.
“Honey, you haven’t said much about Chase to me, but I do know that you’ve been damn miserable these last two weeks,” she says, stroking her hand through my hair consolingly. “If he is what makes you happy, you have to go after him.”
The opera music – if you can call it music – reaches a crescendo, making it hard to talk. I wait for it to die down before saying, “But he’s a cowboy. What does a cowboy and a city girl have in common?”
“You should go talk to him and find out. You have to try. Girl, you have it worse than any person I’ve ever seen. You look like shit. You’re lucky I’m willing to be seen in public with you.” I let out a sharp bark of laughter and she just shrugs with a grin. “That’s what kind of friend I am, willing to go out into public with a zombie.” I wad up my cocktail napkin and throw it at her. She bats it away with a laugh. “But seriously, if you love him, you have to give it all you've got. Or you’re going to regret it later.”
I stand up, throw back the last of my iced tea, and give Becca a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear. “Thank you for everything.”
“You know it,” she says with a smile. “Now go kick some ass! Or, at least kiss some cowboys. Close enough.”
Yeah, close enough.
I hurry out of the Papillon, my ears thanking me for that, even as I pull my phone out and text for an Uber. It looks like there’s one close by, and I watch it on the screen impatiently. It’s already 10:30 pm. I have to get to the arena ASAP. I have to get my ass in gear.
The Uber pulls up in front of me, and with a sigh of relief, I jump in. “Madison Square Garden,” I say, and then, I have to wait. My fingers are drumming nervously on my thigh. I’m watching the streets flash by; I’m watching the pedestrians wander down the street. How many of them are in love? How many of them have found what I have? How many of them wish they’d found what I have?
You have to give it all you've got. Or you’re going to regret it later.
I’d already spent the last two weeks in a world of regret. It’s about time I start making decisions that I will want to wake up to in the morning.
Or wake up with.
Can I move to Texas? Can I become a housewife? I wonder if there’s takeout in Texas. Surely they’ve learned the concept of delivery out there, right? I’m pretty sure they’ve figured out how a phone works. I can survive in Texas. I can survive anywhere, as long as I have Chase by my side.
I jump out of the Uber as soon as it pulls to a stop in front of the MSG. I stare up at it and realize – the lights are dark. Everyone is gone.
I pull my employee pass out of my pocket and slide it through a card reader, letting me through a side door and into the arena. Maybe he’s still here. Maybe he’s giving extra oats to Moonshine. Maybe he’s...
Only the security lights are on. I stumble a couple of times in the darkness, and then I realize that tears are swimming in my vision, blinding me.
Twice in one day. For someone who never cries, I’m starting to set personal records here.
But...