I’m just rambling and hoping an eight year old girl can understand where I’m coming from. I don’t even know where I’m coming from.
Sammy finishes my thoughts for me. “And now you’re all alone?”
My sinuses swell as tears threaten to start dropping like bombs. I’m trying to be strong here, but it’s really hard. “Yes, Sammy. I’m all alone,” I whisper.
“Can we still be friends?” she asks.
Muting the phone, I cry. I can’t help it.
I unmute the call. “Always,” I say.
I got a window into their life, and it was wonderful. Truly everything I’ve ever imagined a family could be. But sometimes you have to let things go, even if it feels impossible.
The grief hits me in waves, each one harder than the last. “I have to go now, Sammy,” I say.
“My daddy likes you a lot, by the way. He bought you a ring.”
What?
“Amanda said I couldn’t go in daddy’s room, but I snuck and found it,” she says.
That must be for someone else. Marc was into me, but he doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to propose within a week of meeting. Then again, he’s a guy that takes big risks for big rewards. Maybe he thought I was a prize worth taking a chance to keep.
That makes me feel kind of sorry for him. It’s stupid. If I forgave him, it could open me up to more hurt. That’s why I’m not forgiving him.
“My daddy doesn’t like anyone,” she says, giggling. “You’re the only one.”
Shit.
Did Marc really buy me a ring? I hope not. That would make this really hard to let go. Am I really that shallow? No. It’s not about the stupid ring. It’s about Marc taking the next step to propose.
Well, he ruined that. Not me.
“That’s sweet of you to say.”
“I didn’t say it,” she mutters. “He did.”
“He told you I was the only one?” I ask.
“Yes, and he said you were wife material,” she proudly declares.
Sammy is manipulative. If she’s trying to get us back together, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Soon, she’ll be back to telling her dad I farted in class. I bet she can’t wait for that.
At the very least, I need to get my bag, my car, and my dog from their house. After that, I can spend the rest of the year counting my blessings. If fate brings us together, so be it. But I’m not going to stay at their place long enough to find out right away.
“Is he home now?” I ask.
“No, he’s still at work. He’s always at work.”
Another potential problem I’ve narrowly avoided.
From Sammy’s end, there’s a sharp knock on the door that turns into a swift pounding. “Open this door right now, Sammy. This is the third time you have stolen my phone.”
Oh, jeez.
I hear them wrestle for control over the phone. Amanda grunts and exhales into the receiver. “Who is this?” she asks.
“Guess who?”
“Ali G,” she says. “I’m really sorry about this. It’s been a bit of a nightmare.”
Sammy is screaming in the background. I picture her running around the room with Rowdy and Ragamuffin nipping at her heels, and it makes me laugh out loud.
“Something funny?” she asks.
“Just thinking about a good memory,” I say.
“Well, lucky you. It’s been a bit of a nightmare here.”
Visiting that house was a little chaotic at times, but it was never that bad. “Sammy giving you a hard time?”
“She keeps saying she misses you,” she says.
“Yeah. She told me that too.”
“Whatever happened last night, I don’t need to know the details. I just want to make one thing clear,” she says.
“Go ahead. I need some sagely advice.”
“You guys are perfect for each other,” she says.
“That’s not the advice I expected to hear,” I say.
“The truth hurts,” she says. “But it’s still the truth.”
“We are officially done,” I say.
“Everyone says that. I’ve told my ex-husband we’re done at least ten times, but I still keep calling him up for the d—”
“I get it,” I say. “And I thank you for your honesty. But right now, can we please just stop talking about this? I need some time.”
“I’m officially backing off.”
Feeling the stress of the day start to creep in, I rub my temples. “I’m assuming he’s not there, right? I still need to grab my things.”
“He hasn’t called or texted. He’s probably sleeping through a wicked hangover,” she says. “Your best bet is to leave now.”
It’s ten in the morning. If he slept anywhere, it was probably in his office. I hope. He mentioned once that he spend nights over there sometimes.
I’m just grabbing my things, not staying for dinner. It’s going to be fine. Maybe I’ll get one last look at his First Edition copy of Pride and Prejudice.
“I’ll be right over.”
Marc
The morning after the unveiling party, I wake up in my office chair. Drool runs down my chin, drying in the warm rays of the sun. The sight of Mount Ranier gives me a headache that makes me pray for a lobotomy. I reach for a glass of tepid water that’s sitting on my desk. It tastes like heaven.
A familiar voice makes the pain swell. “Feeling okay?”
It’s Sandra. She’s a total ass-rider, but she’s always been somewhat of an ally. Without her skills, I wouldn’t have this job. In a way, I’m grateful for her micromanagement, even if she helped ruin last night. I’m not looking forward to hearing what she has to say about the party.
I manage to swivel my chair to face her, but it feels next to impossible. “I feel like shit.”
“Just so you know, last night you texted me ten times in a row, freaking out,” she says. “Lord only knows how much you texted Ali.”
Texting a woman you like twice in a row is against the rules, but ten? That’s a punishable offense. I don’t even remember doing it. After Ali stormed out of the party, I grabbed the biggest bottle of dark alcohol, and walked straight into
