Our breakup hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Gary had apologized over and over again for his possessiveness, saying he was just afraid he would lose me. I almost caved, but as I opened my mouth to tell him I’d give him one more chance, I changed my mind. The truth is, I had seen I wasn’t really into Gary. I didn’t want to be with someone who thought it was okay to treat me that way, regardless of the reasoning behind it. I told him it was over. Afterward, he hadn’t really taken no for an answer, constantly calling me, texting me, and even turning up at my apartment. He tried to say we should take a break and then try again, but I was so done with him that I didn’t even entertain the idea.
I had threatened him with a restraining order the second time he turned up at the apartment and he stopped appearing there, but the calls and texts hadn’t stopped. They varied between Gary begging me for a second chance, saying he loved me, and him telling me I was unattractive, fat, stupid, any of a hundred mean things, and that I might as well get back with him because no one else would ever love me.
In the end, I had changed my phone number and it had all stopped. I had really begun to believe I was free of him, but now apparently, he had found my new number. I really could have done without that happening. I had almost forgotten how annoying it was to be harassed over the phone constantly by someone.
“Gary…” I sigh into the phone. “I think I’ve made it clear I don’t want to talk to you. How many other ways can I tell you that?”
“Don’t be like that Opal. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to get this number? Surely, that tells you I’m serious about us and that I’ve changed.”
Yeah, sure. Changed from a control freak boyfriend to a stalker ex boyfriend. Perfect.
“How did you get this number?” I ask him the question partly because it gives him something to focus on other than his obsession with me and partly because I’m genuinely curious. If someone has given it to him, then when I change it again, I know who not to give the new number to, so he doesn’t get it again. I really thought I had only given it to people who could be trusted this time, but evidently not.
“It doesn’t matter how I got the number. It only matters that I did. I had to find the number Opal. I had to be able to call you. I know you’re mad at me still, and I get it, I do. But you have to give me a chance to prove to you that I’ve changed,” he says.
“I don’t have to do anything.” I roll my eyes.
“But I love you Opal,” he says.
I’m really sick of this now. I need to hang up. Gary is a weirdo who I don’t need in my life, and the way he says my name with almost every sentence feels creepy and weird. I’m starting to feel the familiar panic he always drew out in me. It’s like whenever I talk to Gary I feel trapped, reminded of how I felt when I was with him.
Gary must take my silence to mean he’s still in with a shot. He’s talking again, telling me how it will be different this time, how he will treat me like a queen, and how he understands that I need time to myself to go out with my friends.
As he babbles on, I become aware of a presence behind me and I turn slightly. I gasp in a breath as I see Brett behind me. He’s so close that if I had taken a step back, I would have fallen into his arms. I didn’t even hear him approaching. It’s like he just materialized there out of thin air.
I give him a half smile and I find my eyes locked on his. For a delicious moment, I think he’ll kiss me.
He holds my gaze and runs the tip of his tongue over his lips, but of course he doesn’t kiss me, he just smiles questioningly at me. “Is everything all right?”
I nod, smiling apologetically. I realize Gary is still rambling on and suddenly, I don’t care if I piss him off. I’ve always been careful, trying to cajole Gary into leaving me alone rather than demanding it, because I have always been afraid he would turn up at my apartment again. But right now, looking into Brett’s eyes, I feel brave. “Gary? I have to go.” I end the call in the middle of his protest.
“You left me in the shark tank all alone,” Brett says with a half smile.
“Sorry,” I say, holding up my phone before I push it back into my purse. “I thought it might have been your father.”
“You really think my mom will let him make work calls from the hospital?” Brett laughs.
I laugh with him. “No, I guess not,” I admit. “Especially not if she thinks he’s calling me. She really hates me doesn’t she?”
“No,” Brett says. “She hates the fact that my father can’t stop working for even a second. But I mean he’d just had a heart attack today and she could hardly be overly mad with him, so she took it out on you, that’s all.”
I mull over his words. It makes sense I suppose.
“Why do you care whether she likes you or not anyway?” Brett asks.
Because it will make our wedding pretty awkward if your mother hates me, I think to myself, instantly pushing
