Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
***
It felt like my world came crashing down on that day.
Things were going better than they’d ever had in my entire life. My job was stable and fulfilling. Chelsea and I had moved in together, and I was planning to ask her to marry me at her sister’s wedding coming up in just a few days. A one-carat white gold solitaire had been stashed away for weeks.
Mami was doing a lot better. She’d been on a roll with new art projects. While she’d broken up with George a year ago and had a major relapse, she was now dating a new guy named Steve who’d once again taken some of her focus off of Randy. So, life was as good as it was gonna get—until a phone call from Clara changed everything.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Elec. Randy had a heart attack and died.” Those were the first words that came out of her mouth. Initially, my reaction was the same as if she were calling to tell me what day of the week it was.
Randy was dead.
It didn’t matter how many times I’d repeated it in my head that day; it wouldn’t sink in.
Chelsea had somehow convinced me to go back for the service despite my better judgment. Randy wouldn’t have wanted me there. I was still in shock and too desensitized to fight her pushing guilt on me. She didn’t know what kind of relationship Randy and I had. From her perspective, there was no excuse for my not attending. It was easier for me to just give in than have to tell her everything. I also knew that Mami couldn’t handle going. She wanted me to go in her place to represent the two of us. So, before I knew it, I was on a plane with Chelsea heading to Boston.
The stagnant air on the plane was suffocating. Chelsea kept holding my hand as I blasted the volume of my music. I’d almost managed to calm down when a flash of Greta’s face induced further panic. Not only was I going to have to deal with Randy’s death, but she would probably be there too with her husband.
Fuck.
I knew this was going to be the worst couple of days of my life.
When we got to Greg and Clara’s house, I was really on edge. Chelsea and I took a shower together in the guest bathroom, but it hadn’t done anything to pacify my nervous state. Before we’d left California, I’d picked up a case of the imported clove cigarettes I used to smoke. I took one out and lit it as I sat on the bed while Chelsea was still in the bathroom getting dressed. I was disappointed in myself for relapsing into smoking again, but it felt like the only thing holding me together at that point.
I had no motivation to get dressed and go downstairs. I lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply and walked over to the French doors that led to a balcony overlooking the backyard. The sky was overcast.
Looking down was a colossal mistake.
My fists tightened in a fighting response to the fact that my heart was beating so rapidly.
I wasn’t supposed to ever see her again like this. A part of me that died was coming back to life when it shouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to handle it.
Greta’s back was turned. She was staring out into the garden and must have just found out I was here. She was probably trying to plan her escape so she didn’t have to face me, or maybe she was just as angry at this predicament as I was. The fact that she was standing all alone out there told me that my being here was affecting her.
“Greta,” I whispered to myself.
It was like she heard me because she turned around. Suddenly, a tidal wave of emotions that I’d tried to bury since that night in New York came flooding out. I wasn’t prepared to see her face looking up at me.
I took another long drag.
I also wasn’t prepared for how angry this moment would make me. With one look into her eyes, I was starting to feel everything: the realization of Randy’s death, the painful reminder of my unresolved feelings for her, the jealousy and crushing disappointment of that night in New York, the twitch of my traitorous cock.
The level of rage building inside of me was an unpleasant surprise.
I was so confused.
I never wanted to see you again, Greta.
It’s so fucking good to see you again, Greta.
I felt like she could see right through me in that moment, and I didn’t like it. We just stayed looking at each other for probably an entire minute. Her previously dumbfounded expression darkened as soon as I felt Chelsea’s hands wrap around me.