Stir Me (20 page)

After work, I run. I run and I run and I run some more, until my heart is pounding and my legs are shaking. Until the sky is dark, and I have no idea where I am. Then I turn around, and I run back to that stupid condo, and I stand in the kitchen, not paying much attention as I somehow conjure up a dinner.

The nights are the worst. I am a zombie again, parked on the couch for hours. I try watching every TV show I've ever enjoyed, but none of them stir me.

I have a drink, or two, or three, but it only makes me sink deeper into this ugly, gray feeling.

I have to give her space, no matter how much it hurts.

I have to give her space, because she loves me, and she knows how much I love her, and she's going to come back. I know she is.

So, instead of calling Alyssa and begging her to hear me out--that won't work, not like this--I call Laurie.

She answers with a triumphant, "Uh-huh."

I can see her smirking, her eyes glowing behind her bright red glasses.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Hot Lawyer," she says.

I try to fight a sarcastic response, but the sarcasm is winning. "Those are my only two distinguishing characteristics."

"No, there's three. Hot. Lawyer. And asshole who upsets Alyssa..."

"How is she doing?" I ask.

"She was upset for a few days--you know, hiding out in her room and reading, drinking fifty iced lattes in a row."

"Did she talk to you about it?"

Laurie scoffs. "What do you think?"

I suck in a shallow breath. It presses on my lungs, sharp and heavy all at once. "She wants space. I just want to know if she's okay."

Laurie sighs. "Listen, Luke, I'll be straight with you. I like you. You're... different. And you're very attractive, and I can tell Alyssa appreciates that. And I think it's good for her to have a boyfriend who isn't in TV. We're fucking crazy, and we need saner partners to help even us out."

"Laurie--"

"I'm still talking." She clears her throat. "I like you. A lot of things about you are good for Alyssa. You help pull her out of her head, you know? And she really needs that."

I like where this is going, but I can sense that "but" coming.

"Thanks," I say.

"And, when things are good with you two... I've never seen her that happy."

"That's all I want."

"Yeah, me too. Well, for Alyssa." She pauses. "But, when things aren't good with you two, she's utterly miserable. She's despondent. She mopes when you're gone for more than a day or two. She'd deny it, but she does."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she's gotten better. Going to her acting classes, entertaining my dumb ideas about how to get out of the house. She's even taking art classes. Painting or something."

"She didn't tell me."

"Well, you should have asked."

"How is she doing right now?"

"She's okay," Laurie says. "She's staying busy."

"Did she say anything about me?"

"Are you kidding? You're all we talk about." She laughs at her own joke.

It's business as usual.

"Laurie--"

"No, she hasn't said anything. I asked her what was wrong, but she shrugged and said she didn't want to talk about it. I asked how things were with you and she, can you guess--"

"Said she didn't want to talk about it?"

"Bingo!" Her voice drops to a more serious tone. "What happened, anyway?"

"Honestly? I'm not exactly sure."

"Don't be such a fucking guy," she says. "I'm sure you know. You probably just don't want to admit you were wrong."

"It's complicated."

"I'm sure you did something. I can tell you are this nexus of drama. It swirls around you. I mean, you did intentionally start an affair. And you did break up with her when she was on set." Laurie clears her throat. "And if you do anything like that again, I really will kill you."

I know better than to argue with Laurie.

"Can you tell me anything?" I ask.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, okay? I understand that you have strong feelings about Alyssa. But you're not the only person in the world who feels things. I've loved people too. And Alyssa also feels things. She has issues, sure, but I'm sure there's another reason why she asked for space."

"Can you talk to her?"

"No way," Laurie says. "I'm not stepping into that drama hurricane. I'm sure she has her reasons, and I'm sure you have your reasons. There's no way I can help you with this."

"I know. I just hate being away from her."

"Yeah, we all know you're desperately in love." She says it with such annoyance. She's probably rolling her eyes as we speak.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Hey! I'm the closest thing you have to an ally. Don't be rude."

"Okay. Ms. House, can you explain your hostility?"

"That's better," she says. "You don't listen. I just told you that you're not the only person in the world who feels things. You're not the only person in the world who loves people or has needs. I know you care about Alyssa. I know you want her to be okay. And I definitely know you love her and want to be with her."

"But?"

"But you need to listen to her."

"She's told you something," I say.

"Okay, maybe I did pry something out of her." Laurie's voice gets serious. "But I'm sworn to secrecy. And, like I said, I'm not interested in the drama hurricane. No offense, Loverboy, but I'm much more invested in Alyssa's well-being than I am in yours."

"I'm sure there's a way I can tempt you."

"Not unless you can get Fox to offer me seven figures for my latest pilot." She laughs at her own joke, but there is an edge to it. She really is worried about Alyssa.

Maybe Laurie and I can be on the same team. We do have a common goal.

"We both want Alyssa to be happy," I say.

I wait for Laurie's response.

She takes a slow breath. "I'm listening. My patience is running out, but I'm listening."

"And we can both agree that she's happy when she's with me."

"Usually."

"So, don't you think that helping me here would lead to Alyssa's happiness?"

"You can't logic me into helping you. But apparently," she sighs, "apparently, you can inspire enough pity to get me to help you."

"So?"

"So, you need to listen to your girlfriend. She wants this to work. And I know for a fact that she told you exactly what she needs to make this work."

"You mean..." Deep breath. If Laurie doesn't know about Samantha, she'll freak out at the news. And I might have lost my only ally. But it's a risk I have to take. "You mean Samantha?"

"Yes, I mean your needy, pathetic ex who is ruining your relationship with my best friend."

I'm not detecting much in the way of sympathy here. "Okay."

"So listen to what Alyssa wants and do the intelligent thing. And then give her some time. She's dealing with a lot. No thanks to me. I've been a little crazy about the show, and she's going to do a movie next week."

"She is?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"No," I say.

"Hmm... she probably signed on after this space thing. But it's good. She's excited about it."

"Okay," I say. I press the phone into my ear. "Do you think you can talk to her?"

"And do what?"

"Make sure she's doing okay."

"No way," Laurie says. "I'm not getting in between you two."

"Don't," I say. "Just make sure she's okay."

"Don't be such a guy. Talk to her. I'm sure there's a little more to this than your pathetic bitch of an ex."

"Laurie--"

"Okay, maybe I invented a little backstory in my head. But it was exciting to imagine some kind of crazy fight." She takes a deep breath. "Alyssa is a really reasonable person. I don't think she would leave you hanging if she didn't believe she had to."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I'm wrong and it's just the ex. And all you need to do is cut ties and you'll be okay."

"You sure she didn't say anything?"

"Yeah." Her voice gets higher, reassuring. "But you're a smart guy. I'm sure you can figure it out. Think about what you did, admit you fucked things up, and then unfuck them."

"Sage words."

"I know," she says. "I should write an advice column."

"Thanks, Laurie."

"Don't fuck it up any worse," she says. And she hangs up the phone.

It's not the most comforting suggestion, but it's fair enough advice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The next week is less painful. I call Alyssa, not to impose, but to let her know she can talk to me. If she needs to. That I'm here, always. She thanks me, and tells me about her two-week film shoot in Vancouver.

"It's enough time for both of us to think this through," she says. "I'm going to leave my phone at home. I need time to air out my thoughts."

"Oh." I try not to make much of it.

"But Laurie has the number of my hotel. You can call her if there's an emergency?"

"Okay." I suck the air between my teeth. If I push her, I'll lose her. I have to wait this out.

"I love you," she says. "I hope we can work this out."

"I love you too."

The air hangs between us for a minute. It's almost like we're close, almost like things are okay. "I'll see you soon," she says. "Take care of yourself."

"I'll miss you," I say.

"I'll miss you too." And even though the call fades to an end, it feels so painful and abrupt.

It's a good thing that she's taking time to think.

It's time for me to figure out how to unfuck this.

***

I bury myself in work and shut out everything else in the world. There are two weeks until Alyssa is back in Los Angeles, and that's all that matters.

But Samantha calls me every night. I text her that I'm at work. She resorts to begging. To her familiar veiled threats.
I really want to see you. I don't know what I'll do if I have to spend the night alone.

I lock my phone in my desk and resolve not to reply, but my head fills with images of her crying into her wine glass, penning a new suicide note, and swallowing another half a bottle of sleeping pills.

Still, I ignore my phone all weekend. I run. I watch TV. I pack up the house–another thing Samantha is getting.

But I can't sleep. I've never had an easy time sleeping, but this is worse. I close my eyes and there it is--the first time I ran to her side, the first time she tried to kill herself. It was about a year ago now. We were practically but not technically broken up. I wasn't even staying at the house. I was staying with a friend.

And then I got a call from the hospital. It was just like it was this time--a calm voice explaining that she was in the ER. That time, maybe this time too, she called 9-1-1. Change of heart.

Or so she says.

I try to remember a time when I loved her, but I can't. Every happy memory I have of us is tainted. That dinner after graduation, where I thought we had everything we'd ever need. My father was there, and she was falling in love with him.

This has been bullshit for so long. It's one thing for me to take on this burden. I promised and failed to help Samantha.

But I can't let this ruin things for Alyssa. For us.

It's late Sunday when I respond to Samantha's texts. She's still up and she responds with a dozen smiley faces.

We agree to meet for dinner. To discuss the details of the move. She wants to come here. To scope out the house.

She's rubbing it in my fucking face.

But I agree. Better than dragging this out.

***

Samantha invites herself over. I make excuses, but she resorts to begging. Finally, I can't take it. I can't stop picturing her sitting at home alone, clutching her glass of wine, crying onto her latest suicide note. I accept her fucking invitation.

Truth be told, I've been avoiding her.

She's jealous.

I've denied it for a long time. It's not like Samantha to be jealous, and she did everything she could to throw me away. She's broken down crying a hundred times, apologizing for leading me on, for never really loving me.

I tell her to come by on Friday evening. We can sort out all the details of the mortgage. She can start salivating looking at the house that's going to be hers.

She arrives late. It's already dark and the only lights on are the fluorescent ones in the kitchen.

The door is open and she enters without knocking. She looks like she's ready for a date--heels, designer dress, enough makeup I notice it.

My stomach drops. If she thinks she's going to impress me, she has the wrong idea.

"The place looks great." She offers a bottle of Cabernet like it's an amazing gift.

We both know she'll drink the whole thing.

"Did you eat?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"Oh." She frowns. She probably wants to make this a long dinner. "I guess we'll just have drinks."

I find the corkscrew and open the bottle of wine. Its rich, fruity smell wafts through the apartment.

"Luke." Her voice is low, like she's worried. "Are you okay?"

I nod. As far as Samantha knows, everything is perfect between me and Alyssa. But if she really is jealous, if she really is in love with me... she'll be happy that Alyssa asked for space. She'll be happy that I'm losing the most important thing in my life.

I pour two glasses of wine and take a seat at the kitchen table. Samantha slips out of her heels and sits across from me.

Her eyes are fixed on me. "I have exciting news."

Please let it be that she has a boyfriend, something that will assuage the uneasiness filling my gut.

"What's that?" I ask.

"I got the job." Her face lights up with a smile. "Are you happy for me?"

"Of course."

She brings her glass to mine. It's time to toast. I am happy for her, but I'm happier for me. A job is the first step to Samantha moving on with her life, to her needing me less.

"That's great." I take a long sip of the wine, but it tastes like nothing. I know it's a vibrant shade of crimson, but it looks like nothing. This whole place is nothing.