Silence pierces my ears.
Even with the traffic and the noise of the city around us, her silence pierces everything.
“Accidentally …?”
“Intentionally.” I swallow. “I intentionally kissed him. I kissed a taken guy.” I clench my fists. “And groped him, too.”
“Rome.” I feel her disapproval and pity coming off of her in waves. “Rome …”
The next instant, I’m defensive. “But you haven’t met his boyfriend. Really, if you knew the scum Danny is with, you’d know why … why I …” I growl with frustration. “He’s a fucking nightmare, Prisha.”
“So what was your endgame here, Rome? Were you planning to convince Danny of that, make him dump his boyfriend, and go out with you instead? By kissing him? And groping him? I have a word for that, and it’s not a gentleman.”
“To be fair, I just was a gentleman in a top hat in Monopoly, but—”
“You were the boot. Not the top hat. And the boot suits you. Though the dog might’ve been even more fitting.” Her face twists with disappointment. “No matter what his boyfriend is like, that is Danny’s nightmare to deal with. Not yours. You have a conflict of interest here—especially now that you’ve gone and made a move on him like a reckless fool—and I don’t believe it’s right or fair to interfere with their problems.”
I lean against the light post again. Traffic roars past us. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I ruined what could have been … something.”
“Something? You didn’t go out that night with an honorable heart, so how can you expect an honorable outcome?”
I hate when she’s right. “I have an honorable heart,” I say defensively anyway.
“You have a hopeful one, I’ll give you that. But you are not being honest with yourself.” She shakes her head disapprovingly, then sighs. “I really wish you’d be more responsible with your feelings. Don’t let your desperation for a boyfriend make you compromise who you are.”
I rub my temples. A wave of anguish keeps piercing my eyeballs. The crosswalk light changes again. The traffic stops. “I’m basically home already. You can go back to your place now. I think I can make it across a street without dying.”
“Don’t compromise who you are,” she repeats as I start to cross the street. “I mean it, Rome. Don’t compromise who you are for anyone.”
Her words linger and haunt me long after I reach my building and start ascending the stairs, my head throbbing and spinning. I know Prisha is walking back to her place filled with pity for me. Or disapproval. Or a more polite version of disgust, whatever that is.
I promise you, Prisha, whatever disappointment you feel can’t possibly match the disappointment I feel in myself.
My cold, dark apartment stays cold and dark as I lie on the couch, the room spinning around me.
It’s an especially cruel irony, to be so infatuated with someone who’s not only taken, but now likely can’t stand your very existence.
All because of a stupid kiss.
Danny made a great point before we left for our night out, didn’t he? ‘Fall in love with the guy in the mirror first before you dare to give your heart to anyone else.’
Is that where I’ve been wrong this whole time?
Suddenly I’m in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror. My greasy face. My messy hair. Some unexplained red spot on my cheek, maybe from when I laid it down on that dirty carpet, probably picking up some face disease.
Do I love that guy in the mirror? This sweet, hopeful, patient guy who has so much love to give, but no one in the whole fucking world to give it to?
This Mr. Nice Guy …?
What has “being nice” gotten me, anyway? Other than walked all over, misunderstood, and taken advantage of? Is this really what I am?
10. The Dog
There’s this ringing in my ears, except I think I might be imagining it.
I’m almost certain I’m imagining it.
It’s a day just like any other day. Friday, in fact. I go to work. I meet with Prisha and the others on my team, and no one mentions game night. We are updated on our tasks by our supervisor Mr. Milton—who didn’t seem impressed with our last assignment, standing over our shoulders and muttering, “Hm,” every few minutes as he looks over our work. After he gives us a butt load of new tasks, we busy ourselves among a circle of desks crowded by laptops, notebooks, and half-empty coffee cups, wondering why we put up with him.
And all day in the back of my head, Prisha’s words from last night keep haunting me. ‘Don’t compromise who you are for anyone.’ I can’t help but wonder what they really mean.
Who am I, exactly?
What have I been compromising?
When five o’clock hits, we gather our things, take the elevator trip down to the first floor, and approach the doors to Jesse’s Fitness. It’s the first time I’ve been here since the “incident”. Prisha is so busy chatting with Juan and the two other coworkers joining us that she doesn’t take note of the dead look on my face. They laugh at a joke as they push through the doors, me trailing behind, then make their way for the treadmills.