Page 63 of He
“I know I was in love with him on some level. Certainly, there was something thrilling about getting a chance at love withmy teenage crush. And yeah, he was in love with me too. But sometimes I’d wonder what he was playing at. He often seemed uncomfortable with our relationship—he told me he worried that I was becoming a habit, whatever that means. At other times, he seemed impatient, like he was stuck in bed waiting for a stubborn fever to pass so he could get back to living his life.”
“I think that’s bitterness talking,” MJ said. “You were together a year and a half. I saw you two together. I didn’t understand it, but straight or not, he was definitely in love with you.”
“That’s part of Rio’s charm—making you believe his nonsense. He convinced me that our romance was special, that he was only able to love me, a man, because I was I and he was he.”
“You don’t think that’s true anymore?”
I shrugged.
“Well, let me tell you this,” MJ said. “When you and he were together, you looked happier than I’ve seen you at any point since Jackson left.”
“I guess I just feel really stupid. I really did—do—love Rio. And I thought—improbable as it was—that he loved me. It never occurred to me that he would just walk away one day.”
“I get that.”
“Why does everyone find it so easy to leave me?”
“Who’s everyone?”
“Grampy Eddie, Dad, Mom, Juan, Jackson, Rio…”
“Rio was an asshole. He dropped you like a bad habit. But Grampy Eddie and your parents didn’t choose to leave you—theydied. Juan was a picking-season romance and you were fifteen. And I know Jackson didn’t find it easy to leave you.”
My head snapped up and my tears stopped. “Thank you for canceling my pity party. You’re right. I’m being a jerk.”
“You’re human. You’re hurt. Give yourself the grace to grieve.” She covered my hand with hers; I fought the urge to pull away.
“Let’s order lunch,” I said, “and speak of other things.”
MJ nodded and picked up her menu again while signaling the waiter to bring another round of drinks. She knew our conversation had gone as far as it could because I don’t do vulnerable.
“How’syourlove life these days?” I asked to make up for my shortcoming. “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Why don’t you ever talk about it?”
“Oren, there is literally nothing to tell. I don’t have a love life.”
“Oh. Well, now that I’ve sworn off men, I can help you find one. Let’s see… You’re beautiful, you’ve been voted best dressed TV personality how many times? You’re famous—”
“Stop,” she said, throwing her hands up in surrender. “I don’t actually want a man.”
“Oh—”
“I mean men are fine, though gay ones are less irritating—”
“True, that.”
“I’ve had affairs. They all ended in tears—theirsby the way, not mine. It eventually dawned on me that I didn’t really want to be in a romantic relationship. And I don’t like sex—”
“You don’t like sex?”
“No, it’s too…intimate. It always leaves me feeling as if I’ve been cut open for some man to gaze at my innards. And it’s messy. And you know how I hate messy. I can’t even have kids, so I finally asked myself what was the point of enduring something I don’t enjoy? Oh, and kissing, well, that’s just gross.”
I stared at her in stupefaction. How had we been friends this long and I did not know this about her?
“Have I shocked you?” she asked.