Sixteen
Joanna
“I’m losing him,” I said to Monica as I crawled onto her bed, snuggling up next to her, our feet matching in the same fuzzy pink socks.
“Impossible.”
The emotion in my chest caused everything to tighten. “Not impossible. We haven’t had a real conversation in two weeks. Just some awkward text exchanges.”
“He’s busy, right?” She set her textbook on her nightstand. “Didn’t you say he’s been traveling nonstop for work?”
“Yeah, his Instagram shows a different location almost every day.”
“So, that’s it, babe.” She tucked a chunk of my hair behind my ear. “He’s so occupied; he doesn’t even know what city he’s waking up in.”
“But, Monica …” I paused, the emotion now sliding into my throat. “Why doesn’t he call me before he goes to bed? I mean, the man does sleep at some point. Why doesn’t he phone me when he wakes up? If he cared, wouldn’t he do at least one of those things?” I fought the tears from coming into my eyes. “Wouldn’t he want to hear my voice?”
“Has he ever called during either of those times?”
I shook my head.
She rubbed her toes over mine. “So, he’s not a caller. We can forgive him for that, can’t we?”
“Or maybe he’s just not as into me as I’m into him.”
Oh God.
This was so hard.
So many layers, and each one ached in a different way.
She turned toward me and said, “You don’t know that. In fact, my gut tells me he’s very into you.”
“Nope.” I held in my breath. “I can feel the change.”
“What did Gloria tell you?” She didn’t wait for me to respond when she added, “That you have to be patient, so why don’t you listen to the woman? She knows all the things. I don’t know why you’re doubting her.”
When we had left her bakery and sat by the water to eat, I had felt so much hope from her words.
But now, that hope was gone.
What happened?
Where did he go?
How did I lose him?
“Call him,” Monica said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Or even better, surprise him in LA. You’re due for a visit home anyway. God, it’s been ages since you’ve been back.”
“How?” I tucked my knees against my chest. “I have an exam Monday morning, bright and early.”
“Babe, tomorrow is Friday. You’re done with class at what, two? Jump on a plane at three or four. That gives you Friday night, Saturday night, and take a late afternoon flight back on Sunday.”
I rested my chin on top of my knees. “I don’t even know if he’s going to be in LA this weekend.”
She lifted my phone off my lap and held it out to me. “There’s only one way to find out.”
I took it from her, staring at the screen.
Can I pull this off?
Is it even the right thing to do?
As I glanced up, Monica said, “Stop thinking about it and start typing.”
She was right.
I found the last text we’d exchanged, my thumbs tapping the screen to work on a message.
Me: Tell me you have something amazing planned for this weekend? I want to live vicariously through your fun, extravagant life while I’m buried in books and papers and exams. Sigh.
Jenner: You’re almost at the end, not much longer now.
Me: You want to tell that to the bags under my eyes? They’re getting darker and deeper every day, LOL.
Jenner: The last picture you posted on Instagram had no bags—unless we’re talking about the Gucci you had on your arm. You look gorgeous, Jo. I’m positive you do right now as well.
“I love him,” Monica said as she read over my shoulder. “Like, looove him.”
I glanced at her. “He didn’t take the bait.”
“He will. Keep going.”
Me: You’re sweet. Thank you. I’ve been admiring your Sedona pics. I’ve never been. Is it even more beautiful in person?
Jenner: For sure. My phone barely captured the beauty. You need to go. You would love it. But I’ve got to say, it feels good as hell to be back. It’s been a long stretch of travel.
Me: I never thought I’d ever hear you say that.
Jenner: Even a wanderlust—isn’t that what you call me?—needs to plant his ass home every once in a while.
Me: Does that mean a Dodgers game and some Nobu on Saturday? ;)
Jenner: I like the way you think.