When I meet Prisha’s eyes, I don’t find them impressed or moved.
In fact, she looks frozen mid-eye-roll when she asks: “Are you done?”
I frown. “You asked what went wrong.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your little dramatic soliloquy there, Romeo, but you aren’t talking about the guy you did all of this for. That’s what I was really asking about.” She pushes her smoothie aside and folds her arms on the table, getting to business. “Danny. The guy who took your heart. The real reason you went through all of this.”
I don’t think I’ve heard his name out loud since the last time I saw him. It makes my heart jump. I drop my gaze to the table, emotions flooding into me. “I guess I … got caught up this whole past year chasing some version of myself I don’t think I was meant to be. I got lost along the way, chasing the heart of a guy I don’t deserve.”
“What makes you think you don’t deserve him?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
Prisha sighs. “Okay, Rome. Listen to me. And I want you to really listen to me. Don’t do that pretend thing you do where you just hear what you want to hear.”
I frown at her. “I hate that you know me so well, even still.”
“Some things never change.” She leans forward. “You’re a good person. You’ve made mistakes. But even the best people make mistakes. They fall down. They do terrible things. But the difference between them and the real jerks of the world is that they know the difference. They feel guilt and shame. They want to do better. I see the fight in your eyes, Rome. You aren’t ready to give up on this Danny guy, and you won’t.”
“I don’t know. I feel like it’s beyond repair, my relationship with Danny, if I can even dignify it with the word ‘relationship’.”
“Nothing is beyond repair.”
“So what do I do?”
“It’s simple.” A soft smile touches her lips. “Be your sweet self. Unapologetically. Work on being the truest version of you, with no expectations and no judgment. This isn’t a ploy, Rome, nor is it a game. It isn’t a scheme to win your guy back. Just patiently work on yourself first. You must be willing to face the mirror and see yourself not only for what you really are, but for the kind of person you are capable of becoming. And let me tell you from experience, there is nothing sexier than honesty.”
I find myself taking hold of her hand across the table. Prisha’s smile grows. I feel like I have my friend back.
“And for the love of God,” she adds, “delete that fucking dating app. I don’t suspect you will be needing it anymore.”
It’s those words that circle my head that same evening when I’m back home and my phone is out of my pocket, resting in my palm, facing me like an old foe. I tap the screen and stare my dating app in the face. I press a finger on the icon until the delete button appears.
I stare at its cold, red, X-shaped face for too long, weighing all of the imaginary pros and cons. Even with the list of cons being overwhelming and long, I actually still debate keeping the app.
It calls out to me. An easy option.
A siren’s song.
Stay and be miserable with me, it seems to sing.
So many viable options to consider, it reminds me, flirting with me in the voices of a dozen horny, fake-interested men.
You’ll never be alone again, it promises, begging me not to press that cold red X.
One flash of Danny’s sweet face destroys all of that noise. I proudly jab my thumb on that X, like I’m spearing a monster straight through its heart. I watch with bittersweet victory as the app vanishes from the screen of my phone, its data deleted, gone.
20. Perfectly
Suddenly, tea is my new thing.
Prisha joins me sometimes. And other days, I go by myself. The atmosphere is perfect and calming, which is exactly what I didn’t realize I needed. If I’m not conversing with Prisha, I’m in a world of my own looking out the big front windows where I meet the eyes of people walking by, similarly lost in their own thoughts. I feel connected to each and every one who passes, and yet so far away from anything or anyone I know.
The funny thing is, it takes half a week of sitting here at this window before I realize what’s across the street from me.
A vitamin and nutritional supplements store.
It couldn’t be the same one, could it?
Then the doors open, as if cued to do so at this exact moment, and Danny appears.
What a sight. Danny’s in a tight white uniform polo and khakis with a stylish belt. He seems to have been sent out to clean the display windows, spray bottle and rag in hand. I watch him for a moment, a smile touching my lips.