Lost in Love (9 page)

I KEEP STARING AT THE
phone.

The phone remains quiet.

I refuse to back down.

The phone refuses to ring.

This is how my night has been going since our pizza party in Darcy's room wrapped up and I came back to my room. All I can think about is D out with Shayla. I can't stop wondering where they are and what they're doing and if D has told Shayla about me like he said he would.

Waiting for D to call is excruciating. Sadie was probably right that there's no reason not to trust him. But I'm not sure he's acting like someone who can be trusted.

I stare at the phone.

The phone stares back in defiant silence.

I need a distraction. Getting more research done on Do
Something might work. I sit on my bed and wrangle with my old laptop until the Do Something site appears with its extensive lists of volunteer opportunities. Volunteer work is important to me. Everyone should give back to their community in some way. That's why Sadie is my new role model. Sadie rocks at random acts of kindness. She's completely confident about taking action. Like when she ran up ahead on the sidewalk to open that door for an old lady trying to maneuver her walker into a deli. Sadie didn't hesitate. I don't want to be shy about approaching strangers on the street. I want to be as confident as she is. No hesitation.

Studies have shown that people in a group watching someone who needs help, even if that person is in danger, will often keep watching without taking action. No one wants to be the next potential target by drawing attention to themselves. People usually rely on someone else to be the first person to do something because it's easier to be a follower than a leader. It takes a person on a mission to zing into action like Sadie does. She doesn't care what everyone else is doing. She's a natural leader people want to follow. I want to zing into action the way she does.

I want to be more like Darcy, too. A little. I want to have the courage to put myself out there more and meet new people. That's not easy to do when you're an extreme introvert. Darcy is an extreme extrovert. Our social skills couldn't be more diametrically opposed. She's a natural people person. She told me that engaging people and
figuring out what makes them tick has always come easily to her. She thinks everyone is interesting in their own way. Darcy is charming and witty and draws out the uninhibited side of people. Her enthusiasm loosens me up when we go out. Maybe she even affected my decision to go to South Beach with D. Old Rosanna never would have gone away with a boy she'd just met. But Shiny New Rosanna totally went. And had the best time ever.

When the UNY housing department placed the three of us together for the summer, they had no idea they were matching me up with two girls who would push me out of my comfort zone and inspire me to grow.

I open my notebook to a running list of volunteer opportunities. Working with my kids at camp has been lots of fun, so maybe I should work with kids as a Big Sister or a Girl Scout leader. There are a bunch of other programs for children and teens all over the city. Looking over my list, I wonder how much free time I'll have when the semester starts. I'll have to work at least twenty hours a week on top of my financial aid package. Maybe it would be better to wait until classes and my work-study job start to decide on volunteering. The last thing I would want to do is begin building connections with kids and then have to scale back. I know what it's like to have someone you trust shatter a relationship you were counting on to never change. The kind of relationship a person should always be able to count on. I don't want anyone to get attached to me if I can't
guarantee a commitment. My biological mother left when I was one. I was too young to remember her, but her abandonment still hurts.

The phone finally rings a million years later, making my heart hammer. The screen says it's D. I let it ring two more times while I steady my breathing.

“Hello?” I say all casual.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How's it going?”

“Okay. Just having pizza with Darcy and Sadie.”

“Sorry to call so late.”

“That's okay. Did you just get back?”

“Yeah.”

Then . . . silence. D offers no elaboration on the
yeah
. Like why they were out so late. Or what happened. Or even where they went.

“How was your day?” D asks.

“Good.” Horrible. My stomach has been twisted in knots since last night. All day at camp I kept seeing flashbacks of Shayla clinging to D's arm. Laughing too hard at whatever he said. Clacking away in her absurdly high heels. I could barely keep my lunch down. And we had fried chicken.

“Anything exciting happen at camp?” D tries again.

“No.” Enough. I'm not going to slide past D going out with Shayla without finding out the most basic
information. “So how was it?”

“How was what?”

“Getting together with . . . Shayla?”

“Okay. I mean, she's not okay. She's a mess. It's so frustrating when you want to help a friend but there's not really anything you can do, you know?”

If it's anywhere near as frustrating as your boyfriend going out with a hot girl he has a secret shared history with even though it makes you uncomfortable, then yeah. I know.

“What did you guys talk about?” I ask.

“You know I can't tell you.”

“She talked about her family drama the whole time? You didn't talk about anything else?”

“Some other stuff came up.”

“Like what?”

D sighs. He is clearly annoyed with me. I know I should simmer down and let D be friends with whomever he wants and not fixate on Shayla. But I can't help it. I can't pretend she doesn't bother me.

“Can we not do this?” D says.

“I'm not allowed to know what you and your friend talked about?”

“You never ask what Jesse and I talk about.” Jesse is D's friend from high school. He goes to UNY. They played basketball together in high school and still get together to play on one of the public courts.

“Jesse's different.”

“Why? Because he's not a girl?”

“Shayla's not some girl. She's a girl you have a past with. She's a girl who trusts you more than any of her other friends.”

“I don't know about that.”

“That's what you said.”

“Rosanna. I'm with you. I want to be with you. You are my girlfriend.”

My jealous frost melts a bit.

“Didn't we just have an amazing time in South Beach?” D says.

“We had the best time.”

“This is only the beginning. We'll have lots more best times. Because we're good together. I love being with you. You love being with me, right?”

“You know I do.”

“So why can't we focus on that?”

“Okay,” I relent. He's right. I'm being a crazy jealous girlfriend. I need to dial back the crazy and amplify the girlfriend. Or I might ruin everything.

“I have something for you,” D says. “Guess what it is.”

“A pogo stick?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Long story. Um . . . fresh watermelon juice from South Beach?”

“So close.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Give me a hint.”

“You asked me for it when we were having dinner at that Italian place on the beach.”

That dinner was ridiculous. I'd never tasted pasta so fresh. I didn't even know pasta could be that fresh. But I don't remember—“Oh! You got her number!”

“Nailed it.”

D's sister runs a campus activity group that's sponsoring my camp and the affiliated camp on the Upper East Side. Her group threw the party for both camps where I met D. I was stuffing bags of chips and pretzels into my crossbody like the scavenger I am. He saw the whole thing. I was mortified. But not as mortified as I was when he saw Addison spill punch on me. D offered to ask his sister for Addison's number so I could find out what her damage is. At first I said no. I wanted to ignore the situation, hoping it would go away. Then Addison went and turned Mica against me. And now she doesn't even work at the Upper East camp?

What happened with Mica was something I was hiding from D. I didn't want to bother him with my immature girl problems. But it really hurts that Mica won't talk to me or even look at me at camp. Right before I left
for South Beach, Mica actually spoke to me for a minute. Just long enough to tell me that she's hanging out with Addison now. Mica is making friends with Addison instead of becoming better friends with me. The injustice kept bothering me in South Beach. So when D and I were talking about our friends at that restaurant, the unabridged Addison drama came out. D said he'd ask his sister for Addison's number. This time I didn't protest.

“What did your sister say?” I ask.

“She thought Addison worked at the Upper East camp. She couldn't believe it when I told her you called there and they had no record of her. But she's texted Addison before. So we know this is her real number.” D gives me the number. I write it down in the margin of my notebook.

“I wish I didn't have to confront her. Even over the phone, it's going to be nasty.”

“Do you want me to call her?”

“No, thanks. I can do it.” This will be a test. A test of building confidence. A test of confronting my problems instead of running away from them.

The second I get off the phone with D, I take a deep breath and dial Addison's number. She doesn't pick up. I leave a message for her to call me back right away.

I call Addison a few more times that night. And the next day. Every time she doesn't pick up, every time I leave another message she'll probably never respond to, I get angrier.

Addison is definitely ignoring me. What a disgusting way to treat someone. The ignoring is a form of bullying. When and where will Addison strike again? What if she decides to hurt more of my friends? Or D?

Who will she hurt next to get to me?

IT HAPPENS LIKE A HURRICANE.
Actually, more like a flash flood or an avalanche. They give you warning if a hurricane is coming.

I do not see him coming. I am not prepared for the onslaught. I cannot even take a breath before he crashes into me.

Austin. Is confronting me. At internship.

We didn't run into each other randomly. Austin came down to my floor to find me. He expected to find me in my cubicle. He did not expect to slam right into me as I was rounding the corner on the way back from the bathroom.

I freeze in front of the windows, paralyzed.

“Sorry!” Austin says. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly seeing him without warning is even more
horrible than I've imagined. All I can hear is a whoosh of blood rushing to my head. All I can feel is my heart pounding in my ears.

“We need to talk,” he says.

This is the first time I've seen Austin since the night I found out he's married. The first time his eyes have sparkled silver in the sunlight since I discovered how he lied. The first time he's wearing his blue polo shirt with the frayed string on the second button from the bottom while I understand that his wife has never cared enough to snip it off. The first time I've seen him without a wedding ring, knowing he takes it off when he leaves home every day.

We don't need to talk. We need to stay far away from each other.

“There's nothing left to say,” I whisper.

“That's not true. There's so much I have to say to you. So much I owe you.”

I walked out on him the night I found out he's married. But I can't walk out on him now. Not unless I want to give up my internship. There's no way that's happening. Austin destroyed my love life. I will not let him destroy my professional life.

“Just leave me alone,” I say. “Walk away.”

“I can't walk away from you. We're soul mates.”

“A soul mate wouldn't—” I shut up while two interns discussing solar arrays walk by. When they are out of hearing
range, I say, “Soul mates don't treat each other the way you treated me.”

“I know, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. Please let me explain.”

“What could you possibly say that would change anything?”

“I left her, Sadie. I moved out.”

Oh. My. God.

He did it.

Darcy was ranting that when a guy is cheating on his wife, he promises to leave her but never does. The other woman always ends up devastated and alone.

But Austin did it. He left her.

There's a chance he's lying again. But something about the intense look in his eyes, something about the way he's opening up to me, tells me he's not.

My heart leaps like it wants to pull me back to Austin. I can't let that happen. He completely shattered my world. Even if he did leave his wife, he's still married. This is one mess I do not want to get tangled up in. There is no way I'm letting him take me back to that dark and twisty place. I picked myself up. I dusted myself off. Austin is not going to drag me down again.

He's still talking, but I'm not listening. I don't trust myself to hear any more.

“Um,” I interrupt. “I need to get back to work.”

“Can we—”

“We're done here.” I dart back to my cubicle. Continue working where I left off. Pretend like he did not just crash into me. If you act like nothing's wrong at work or school or really anywhere, that's how people will perceive you. Like a fully functional person going about her daily routine. Not like a girl whose heart was ripped to shreds.

I leave the office at 5:00. Austin starts calling me at 5:01.

His first call goes to voice mail while I'm in the elevator. I haven't even had a chance to turn my phone on yet.

He calls again three minutes later.

By the time I get home, take a shower, and start making dinner, Austin has left me nine messages.

My phone rings again as I empty a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water. I refuse to pick up. There's a moment of panic that Austin will come over if I keep avoiding his calls. But I get over it. I will not be intimidated into picking up.

“Who keeps calling you?” Darcy asks, coming into the kitchen. Darcy does not cook. We've gotten into a groove where she treats for dinner sometimes and I cook for the three of us sometimes. Most nights she's out.

“Austin.” I throw some garlic bread into the oven.

“Wait. What?” Darcy's mouth hangs open.

“Oh yeah. He came down to my floor today. He said we needed to talk.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Only long enough to hear that he left his wife.”

“WHAT.”

“He moved out.”

“When?”

“Don't know.”

“Where is he staying?”

“Don't know.”

“Does she know about you?”

“Don't know.”

“Why am I the only one interested in these answers?”

“Because I've moved on. Or I'm trying to move on. Moving on isn't exactly the easiest thing if you get bogged down in the situation all over again.”

“But the situation has changed. He's free. Isn't that what you wanted?”

“No. I wanted to not fall in love with a married man. That's what I wanted.”

Keys jangle on the other side of the front door. Rosanna bangs in, her face twisted in irritation. She drops her keys, bends down to pick them up, and chucks them into her bag.

“What's wrong?” I ask her.

“Nothing.”

“I'm making pasta. Do you want some?”

“That would be awesome. Thank you.”

“No problem. It'll be ready in ten.”

My phone rings again.

“Why don't you turn it off?” Darcy asks. She sits at the
breakfast bar, peering down at the phone on the counter. “Or we could record a fun outgoing message just for Austin. Please don't call again, eff you very much.”

“Then he'll know I care.”

“Do you?”

“Why is Austin calling you?” Rosanna asks. She was on her way to her room, but her head snapped around when she heard Darcy.

“He left his wife,” Darcy tells Rosanna. Darcy gives her big drama eyes, one elbow propped up on the counter, chin in hand.

“What?”

“I know, right? When does that ever happen?”

“When someone's really in love.”

Rosanna looks at me. Darcy flicks her big drama eyes my way.

“Can we all kindly remember that this is the same man who lied to me? Over and over? How am I supposed to trust anything he says?”

“Why would he lie about leaving his wife?” Rosanna asks.

“For the same reason he lied about having a wife in the first place. He's a lying liar.”

“Boys lie,” Darcy confirms.

Sing it, sister.

After dinner, I hang out by myself in my room. Rosanna insisted on doing the dishes. Darcy did not protest. I'd
turned off my phone when dinner was ready. Now I turn it back on.

Twenty-three messages. All from Austin.

So he's frantic to get in touch with me because he finally left his wife. I get it. But that doesn't mean I'm required to let him manipulate me. Whether or not Austin takes over my entire life again is up to me. And I say I've had enough.

There's no way I'm listening to these. I am not remotely interested in what he has to say.

But that's a crazy lot of messages. I wonder if he said the same thing in all of them. Maybe I should listen to the first one? Or two? Just to see what they sound like?

Stay strong, Sadie. Do not get pulled back in.

I come detached from time for a while. Lying on my bed, listening to Adele, my earbuds drowning out voices in the living room, floating in a bubble of nostalgia. Will I ever forget how good it felt to be with Austin? Will I ever find that intense connection and chemistry with someone else?

My phone rings. I glance at the screen.

It's Trey. Austin's friend.

Austin and I went to a party on Trey's rooftop in Brooklyn. Trey's parents' rooftop, actually. Austin and Trey have been good friends since high school.

I shouldn't pick up. But if I talk to Trey, I can tell him to tell Austin to stop calling me. I don't want to communicate directly with Austin. I can't trust him, but I'm not
completely sure I can trust myself, either.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Sadie? It's Trey. Austin's friend?”

“Hi, Trey.”

“We met at my rooftop party?”

“Yeah, I remember you.”

“Oh, cool. Well . . . um. Austin wanted me to call you. He's not doing too well. There's—is this a good time for you to talk? Are you busy?”

“I can talk for a minute.”

“Austin is destroyed, Sadie. He can't believe he messed things up with you. The way he talks about you, the things he told me when you guys met . . . he loves you.”

“He's married.”

“He's separated. He moved out.”

“Where is he staying?”

“With me. Until he finds a place. The dude's a wreck. He couldn't get out of bed for like a week.”

Austin was miserable like I was? Did he call out sick, too?

“He needs to talk to you,” Trey says.

“I don't want to talk to him.”

“Five minutes. That's all he's asking for.”

“That's five more minutes than I want to give him.”

“Look. I know you're pissed. I get it. But Austin wants to make things right with you. Can you please just let him apologize? He owes you at least that much.”

Trey is right about that. Austin owes me a huge apology. Not that it would change anything. What's done is done.

“Sorry, Trey,” I tell him. “I have to go.” I hang up before Trey can say anything else.

I am completely drained. I want to go to bed early. Lose the rest of this day to sleep. Wake up tomorrow on a fresh new day with no Austin in it. I decide to brush my teeth, wash my face, and drift away under the covers. When I open my door to go to the bathroom, Rosanna is still doing the dishes while Darcy is picking up mugs she left around the living room. She never cleans up. She usually leaves her dirty mugs around until we run out of mugs. Then Rosanna or I end up washing them. She must really feel bad for me.

I'm almost asleep when the doorbell buzzes. A minute later, someone knocks lightly on my door.

“Yeah?” I say.

Rosanna opens my door slowly. “Sadie? Are you awake?”

“Sort of.”

“I hate to tell you this, but Austin's downstairs.”

I sit up in bed. “Seriously?”

“He wants to talk to you.”

This is ridiculous. This will never end unless I make it end. To his face.

“I'll be right out,” I tell Rosanna.

“Are you sure? I can tell him to go away.”

“No. It's okay.”

I put on my glasses, slip into some flip-flops, and throw my robe over my tank-and-shorts pajama set. They're the ones that say
YOU
'
RE MY TYPE
all over them. How ironic that I'm wearing these. But good. Let Austin feel my pain.

He's waiting outside on the stoop.

I stand in the open doorway, one hand on the door handle, the other on my hip.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“To be with you,” Austin says quickly. “That's all I want. If I could have only one thing in the whole world, being with you would be it. You're all I need.”

“You had me.”

“I know—”

“And then you destroyed us.”

“I know I messed up. More than messed up. I made the biggest mistake of my life. I am so sorry I hurt you. I'll do anything to get you back.”

“You had plenty of chances to tell me the truth. You chose not to. You made the wrong choice.”

“But now I'm trying to make the right ones. That's why I moved out. We're separated, Sadie. It's over.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Yes. I told her everything.”

“Everything? Like how . . . we were soul mates?”

“She knows.”

“What did she say?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I was responsible for ruining her life! I feel horrible!”

“You didn't ruin her life.”

“I broke up her marriage.”

“That's not true. We would have gotten separated anyway. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I didn't tell you I was married. But everything else I said to you was true. I never thought about things like soul mates or the total package before I met you.” A pack of twentysomething girls strides by on the sidewalk. One of them is laughing so hard she's screaming. Austin waits for them to pass by. “Before we met, I had been regretting that I got married so young,” he continues. “I thought that's why I was feeling a void with her. But you showed me what it's like to be in love for real. I thought I was in love before. Until I found you, I had no idea what real love felt like. Now I'm in love for the first time in my life, and I can't believe how amazing it is.”

Maybe it's a trick of the streetlights. But it looks like Austin has tears in his eyes.

“Now I understand why I felt that void,” he says. “The kind of love you and I have is what was missing. There's no way I can go back from that. How can anyone feel the way we did about each other and settle for less with someone else? What we have happens once in a lifetime.
If that. Do you really want to throw us away just because I was stupid?”

My throat constricts. A car passes by slowly, its headlights making minerals in the sidewalk sparkle. I keep my eyes down.

“You're the love of my life, Sadie,” Austin says. “You don't give up on the love of your life.”

I look at Austin closely for the first time since I opened the door. He's all sweaty. His white T-shirt and navy basketball shorts are rumpled, like he pulled them out of the hamper and yanked them on. The shoelace on his right sneaker is untied. His face is scruffy. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days. Why didn't I notice that this morning?