The line is quiet for a few seconds.
“Oh.”
“What’s up?”
“Oh,” he says. “I just got your message and wanted to call and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing okay,” I tell him.
It’s funny, I’ve spent so much time pretending that I wasn’t hoping for a moment like this and now that it’s here, I have no clue what to say.
“How are you?” I ask.
“I’m all right,” he says. “I’m just hanging out with Wrigley.”
Suddenly I’m beginning to understand why he actually called. He doesn’t want to talk about getting back together or anything like that at all. He just wants to make me feel like shit for leaving him the way I did.
Maybe I deserve it, maybe not, but I’m in no mood for it.
“Well, that sounds great,” I tell him, and hang up the phone.
I walk out to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. With a sigh, I open the cupboard and pull out the little bottle of ibuprofen and take a couple.
Now, I’m walking back toward my bedroom, and I can hear the phone ringing, only this time, I’m not so thrilled about the idea of answering it.
The ringing stops and I lie back down, setting the water on the nightstand.
A moment later, the phone rings again, startling me into sitting up again. I silence the ringer and just lie back down.
I don’t want to hear about how he and Wrigley “rediscovered” each other or about how much fun they’re having together. If he doesn’t want to be with me, that’s fine, but I’m not going to sit here and listen while he rubs it in my face.
You know what? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. I pick up the phone.
He’s calling again.
That’s as good an opportunity as I’m going to get, so I answer.
“Listen, I get that you’re pissed at me, but I don’t know what kind of nerve you have, calling me up to tell me that you’re back with her. I still care about you, Dane, and I know I hurt you. I know that what I did was wrong, but that doesn’t give you carte blanche to throw your relationship in my face. I mean, who do you think you—”
“I don’t care that you live in another state, I want to be with you.”
“—are, seriously. What kind of asshole…” I trail off. “What did you just say?”
“I said that I don’t care if you live in New Jersey and I live in New York. I love you, and I want us to be together. I can’t move right now. I have to finish getting Wilks ready to take l’Iris, but I’ll buy a car, I’ll take the bus. I don’t care. I want to have you in my life, and I don’t ever want to go another day without seeing you. Ever.”
“What about Wrigley?” I ask. “I thought you said you were back with her.”
“No,” he says. “I’m hanging out with her. I was stupi
d not telling you that I’d do anything, even go long distance for a while, just as long as it meant that we could be together. Wrigley helped me get past all my bullshit and realize that. I know we have a lot more to learn about each other, but if you’re willing, I’d love to give us another shot. I really think we have something unique and I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Wrigley as couple’s therapist: that’s an unexpected development.
“Leila?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here.”
“What do you think?”