Daphne
Daphne
I t’s nearing midnight, and the office is dark except for the set of fluorescent lights above my desk. Work is what keeps me from dissolving into a puddle of tears most days. With a task list, I can hold back my sobs and pretend that my world didn’t shatter.
Whoever said that it’s better to have loved and lost might be right, but I’m not anywhere near ready to admit that.
The elevator whirs as it approaches our floor, and I stop. Who is here at this time of night?
Zoe, my boss’s wife, steps out of the elevator and waves. “Hi. Austin sent me.”
“Does he need something? It’s no big deal to pause what I’m working on. It’s not due until sometime early next year. I’m just getting a head start.”
“The security guard called and told him that you’ve been up here late every single night this week.
As soon as Austin heard that, he grabbed his shoes to come up here.
Then the security guard added that he’d seen you crying.
So Austin asked me to come with him. He’s downstairs.
I’m supposed to text him and let him know if there are tears. ”
“He’s probably allergic to tears.”
“Absolutely.” She pulls a chair close to my desk. “I don’t want to pry, but I do want to know if you’re okay.”
I nod, tears burning my eyes. “Just a breakup. I’m in the do-anything-to-avoid-lying-in-bed-awake stage. And I’m sharing my location with my friend, so someone knows where I am at all times.” I snag a tissue out of the box and dab my eyes. “I thought he was the one.”
Zoe opens her arms, and I accept a hug from her, even though I really don’t know her well at all. I do my best not to blubber all over her shirt.
“Work gives me something to do. That’s why I’ve been so productive.”
“Don’t make yourself sick, though. Your body needs sleep. Even if your heart and brain are against the idea. I’ve been there. I know it’s hard.”
“Tell Austin that I’m okay. I’ll pack up and go home. But I can’t promise that I’ll sleep.”
“I’ll tell him. And don’t set an alarm.” She waves as she walks back to the elevator. “Don’t be shocked if our car is in the lot when you go down. Knowing Austin, he’ll want to be sure you get into your car safely.”
“I won’t be long.” I shut down my computer and gather my things. I guess drowning myself in work is no longer an option. Tomorrow, I’ll have to get ice cream. And some Lactaid.
It’s been three weeks since that last kiss in the rain, and progress has been made. I’m sleeping again. Finally. And I no longer fight the urge to text Carson every time I look at my phone.
But Carson has been on my mind all day, so I give in to my impulse and send off a text.
Me: Hi. I was thinking about you. I hope things are better with Fred.
Dots dance on the screen. Then stop. And so does my breathing. I should not be this invested in a text.
Carson: Things are better. He didn’t snap back to his old self overnight, but over the last couple of weeks, he’s opened up more. Almost back to normal.
Me: Great to hear. I hope you’re doing good.
He sends a thumbs-up.
As much as I want to send another text and prolong the interaction, I don’t. Carson is still getting over the breakup, just like me. And making it harder for him isn’t my goal. Besides, knowing that Fred is better only confirms my fear. I was the problem.
I dive back into work. Then promptly at five o’clock, I shut off my computer and grab my purse. I’m meeting Rose and Dallas for dinner in Stadtburg, and I need to change before heading that way.
When I pull into the parking lot at the restaurant, the first thing I see is Carson’s truck. It’s a small town. And this is the most popular place to eat. But normally, he has dinner at the ranch.
I stare through the windshield, deciding whether or not to go inside.
Dallas’s truck turns into the lot, and I get out of the car. Avoiding Carson is silly. We’re both adults. I can be friendly without throwing myself at him. Or sobbing. Although that second one will be harder.
There is a large group from the ranch, and when the guys see Dallas, a couple of them wave. Parker shifts, then points to seats next to him.
Great. We’ll all be sitting together.
Dallas, Rose, and I get our barbecue, and we wander over to the table. I give Carson a friendly wave, but thankfully, he’s sitting far away from where the vacant seats are. But unfortunately, I end up sitting right across from Fred. It’s not that I mind, but I’ve probably ruined his dinner.
As soon as I sit down, I realize that I didn’t fill my cup. “Rose, I’ll be right back. My cup is empty, and I didn’t grab any silverware.”
Fred jumps up. “I’ll get stuff for you. What do you want to drink?”
“Sweet tea. Thank you so much.” I try not to look at Carson because I can feel him watching as Fred walks back to the table. “That was really kind of you.”
“You’re welcome.” He stares at his tray and stabs at a slice of brisket. “How are you?”
“I’m okay. How about you? Are you liking school?”
“Meh.” He crinkles his nose and flashes a smile. “Math is hard. English is boring, but history is cool.”
“Have you and Mason had any big adventures lately?” He glances at Carson, then looks back to me.
“Yeah. Mason isn’t here tonight because he’s doing something with his mom and dad.
And his sister. But soon, Mason and I are going to build a tree house.
We have permission. We’re thinking that on the ground, we’ll have a fort, and then there will be stairs that go up into the tree. ”
“That’ll be really cool.”
He grins. “Yep.”
This is the most talkative he’s ever been with me.
And it hasn’t gone unnoticed by my friend because Rose has nudged me three times.
I can’t look at her right now because I know there will be hope gleaming in her eyes, and I can’t go there.
Fred is happy to talk to me because I am no longer dating his dad, uncle, or whatever.
He tolerates me when I’m out of the picture.
I will not hope that this is a shift. That my happily-ever-after is within my grasp.
He takes the lid off his cup of banana pudding. “I’m sorry to talk your ear off. You probably came to spend time with your friend.” He waves at Rose. “Hi.”
“You can talk as much as you want.” Rose points her fork at Fred. “You aren’t bothering us. Not one bit.”
Fred is chatty throughout the rest of dinner, and I enjoy the conversation. But I resist the temptation to glance at Carson to see his reaction to these events. I deserve a gold star for the amazing amount of willpower I used to keep from staring at Carson.
That night, I check my phone several times, wondering, hoping Carson might send me a message. Something simple, friendly. But no text ever pops up. I still manage to fall asleep, which only shows how far I’ve come.
For the last two weeks, Rose and I have rehashed that dinner repeatedly.
All the talking hasn’t garnered us any revelations, and I’m tired of thinking about it.
It was a dinner. Fred was nice. He doesn’t hate me.
But he also doesn’t want me dating Carson.
The fact that I can’t fathom what his reasons are doesn’t make them any less valid. I guess.
I even talked about it with my sister, but she didn’t have any advice. No one wants to blame a scared kid who grew up in an abusive environment. I get that. Totally. But none of that makes the situation any less awful.
After having dinner with my sister, I head home. Tomorrow is Friday, and I’m ready for the workweek to be over.
I shower, then get into pajamas. With my hair still wet, I crawl in bed.
It’s kind of lame to be in bed at eight o’clock, but such is my life these days.
I really should consider moving so that I can get a cat.
I think it’s less lame to be in bed this early if you have a cat or two.
Or eight. I think that’s the city’s legal limit.
After an hour of scrolling on my phone, I’m dozing. Then a text pops up.
Carson: Can you meet me at the donut shop tomorrow at 4? It’s important.
Me: Yes, of course. Have time to chat on the phone?
Carson: No. And don’t call or text me because I don’t want Fred to see.
I stare at the phone, confused. What is up with Carson? He sounds weird. This isn’t how he normally texts, and the whole thing about not calling or texting is strange.
Me: Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.
He sends a thumbs-up. That part seems like Carson.
So much for sleeping. I’m going to spend all night wondering what he wants to talk about. If he asks about clandestine dating like we did at the beginning, I’m not sure what I’ll say. Now dating in secret would feel deceitful. I don’t want that.
I text Rose.
Me: Carson texted. He wants to meet tomorrow at 4 at Sweets. Slim on details, but I’ll update you tomorrow afternoon.
The phone rings.
“Tomorrow my foot. Did he change his mind?” She sounds way too excited.
I rein in my hopes. “Nothing in his texts indicated that. But if he wants to meet to say that he made the right choice when breaking up, at least I’ll be at the donut shop.”
“No you won’t. Sweets closes at two. Surely Carson knows that.”
“I guess not. We’ll just meet outside the shop, I guess.”
“Or you could call him and figure out a new meeting spot.”
“No. He said not to call or text because he didn’t want Fred to see.” I’m starting to wonder if this is some sort of scam. Was Carson’s phone hacked? Are his contacts being targeted?
“Weird. So I have to wait until after four for an update?”
“Yes. Because that’s how time works.”
“Phooey. I want the happy ending now.”
I flop back onto my pillow. “Please, Rose, let’s not talk about happy endings right now. I can’t get my hopes up.”
“Alright. I’ll keep those thoughts to myself. But please call me tomorrow. Don’t let me die of curiosity.”
“You aren’t a cat, Rose.”
“True, but I did buy the coolest cat suit. It’s actually a leopard costume. Cami, a friend of Tandy’s, was getting rid of a bunch of stuff. I can’t wait to show Dallas.”
I shake my head. “I’m hanging up now.”
Laughter echoes through the line. “Love you. And call me.”
After ending the call, I set my phone aside. What does Carson want to talk about?