The Despair of Strangers, Page 2

  “So, you kind of suck as a waitress,” Jenny said lightly. After the morning rush of customers, I followed her over to the kitchen and began making a new pot of coffee in the machine.

  “I do?” I asked dejectedly. I’d mistakenly thought I was doing well for my first day.

  “Well, not completely. If you want some constructive criticism, I’d say you have to learn how to hustle. You’re too nice to the customers with your smiling and allowing them to talk your ear off. And you have to write in shorthand or memorize the orders because it slows you down by making detailed notes including table diagrams in your notepad.” Her tone was easygoing enough to let me know she wasn’t being mean, merely trying to help.

  I nodded. “Thanks, that helps a lot. I’m sorry Dee hired someone with zero waitressing experience.”

  “You’ll get it, girl, and the regulars like that you’re nice and appreciate the new eye candy. We don’t usually have a hostess, but I’ll put you up front while we’re working most of the time and start you off with a small number of tables.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Although I’m not sure about the eye candy thing.” I shook my head at the thought.

  “Someone did a number on you, huh?” Jenny looked me up and down before pushing back a stray blond hair out of her eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You remind me of myself last year when I was going through my divorce. Asshole told me I was only good for spreading my legs and spending all of his money. You have that look like you can’t believe anyone would refer to you as pretty.” She had to notice the look of surprise on my face. Jenny was stunning, curly blond hair with a heart-shaped face and warm honey brown eyes. Made me understand being beautiful didn’t protect against destructive relationships.

  “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.” One of the skills I’d been losing since leaving Jake was my ability to conceal my emotions. My gift for pretending was becoming a forgotten competence.

  “Not to most people, but I’ve been there and it took a long time to get out of the funk Dylan had put me in. So, what happened?”

  My cheeks flushed and although Jenny seemed nice enough, I wasn’t ready to talk about the implosion of Jake and me. Maybe she’d think I was a complete idiot—probably not an unfounded assessment.

  Her eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s okay. I couldn’t talk about Dylan for a long time either. Birdie is actually worried about you. She told Dee and me a little about you before you applied for the waitressing job. Birdie thought maybe you were on the run from some man?”

  She phrased it as a question, confirming I had to clear up at least some of the misconceptions. “No, my ex wasn’t abusive…” I paused, deliberating my words. “Well, not abusive in the physical sense. He wasn’t the nicest person, but my family loves him. So, I came here to start over.”

  Jenny nodded solemnly, satisfied with my explanation. I’d given her the lines, but didn’t yet fill in the story with color. “I get it. I moved too after my divorce. I didn’t want to run into that asshole at the grocery store. I grew up here and my mom still lives in town, so Cookstown was a no-brainer. What made you move here?”

  “Nobody knows me here and I just had a good feeling about the place when I drove through it.”

  “Well, I’ll be your official welcome wagon. None of my friends live nearby, so I’ve been hoping to meet a few girlfriends who don’t have an AARP membership. Why don’t we go out and grab drinks one night? There are some cute single guys who hang out at Molly’s Pub.” Jenny lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Post-breakup sex is the best.”

  “I don’t think I’m there yet, but drinks would be fun.”

  “I understand, but it will be good for you, I promise. I hadn’t heard someone tell me I was beautiful in the last five years of my marriage and it felt pretty damn great to hear it over and over again from men who weren’t Dylan.” She smirked. “Don’t get me wrong, I knew it was a line to get in my pants, but I was using them just as much as they were using me.”

  Her words gave me pause. Had Jake ever told me I was beautiful? He wasn’t one to give compliments freely, so any kind words from him always filled me with so much love. I would cycle them through my head regularly, especially when I had doubts about our relationship. But just as the kind words would sneak into my head, so would the constant criticisms. Instead of getting angry, I’d be thankful he was in my life. Like he was lowering his standards to be with me.

  Would healing involve replaying every vicious moment in our relationship? When I looked back, my self-loathing intensified, disappointed over every cruelty I ignored, all the times I stayed. I stayed until he hurt me in a merciless way, an act making me certain he’d never loved me for a single second.

  Chapter Three

  My first week at Dee’s Diner didn’t transform me into the best waitress in existence, but I was getting the hang of things. I only dropped two trays and messed up a handful of food orders. The customers were made up of mostly regulars with the occasional tourist that was staying in town. Cookstown only had two bed and breakfasts, but couples and retirees liked to book lodging to visit the quaint neighborhood shops and restaurants.

  Six-hour shifts each day with Jenny made us fast friends. I liked everything about her, but most of all her genuine nature. My former friends were one-uppers to a fault, always trying to outdo one another with the best of everything. They were exhausting.

  My new phone had remained silent for more than a week. Weirdly, I missed the messages, wondering why I found excitement in being a voyeur in someone else’s relationship drama. My cynical side clashed with my hopeful side as I made up endings to the texter’s story. Maybe the two of them had reconciled after all. His feelings were intense, his love evident. I wanted to imagine they came back together. Another part wondered if he was fighting against gravity and they were meant to be apart in the same way as Jake and me.

  After undressing for bed, I took a moment to stare in the full-length mirror in the corner of my room. For as long as I could remember, the only thing I desired was to like what I saw in there. When I suspected Jake of losing interest in me and in my body, I absorbed the blame. If only…became the damaging mantra in my brain.

  If only I were thinner…

  If only I had more confidence…

  If only I were sexier…

  Years and years of toxic thoughts kept me bound to a man who didn’t love me. Sighing, I finished dressing for bed, putting on a pair of sleep shorts and tank top. I had to stop wasting my new life awash in regrets. What was the point of leaving Jake if he never left my head?

  My text message alert chimed, interrupting another pity party I really wanted to get uninvited from. As I scanned the message, my breath caught in my throat.

  I love you, Emily. I love you so goddamn much that I resent it. Because if I could love you a little less, I wouldn’t feel like this. I wouldn’t feel like after being in the light, I’m back in the dark.

  Jesus, I thought, sitting on the edge of my bed. My pretend happy ending I crafted vanished in an instant. What’s the deal with this guy? I thought of writing him, saying Emily obviously wasn’t feeling what he was putting out. She changed her number, never wrote him back, and he hadn’t dialed down the intensity one bit. Maybe I should get involved after all, I reasoned. I shouldn’t have romanticized the messages in the first place. My own life experience gave me insight into toxic men. Instead of hoping for a reunion, maybe I should’ve assumed Emily was trying to get away from him. For all I knew, there could be a restraining order against him.

  The entire situation was strange. Weeks of having the phone number and there’d been no other messages for Emily. Why were the only messages from a man so in love, he felt like his life lacked meaning without her? I couldn’t make sense of any of it or think of an alternate explanation for the messages.

  Instead of responding, I decided to call my phone provider to see if I could find out more information.

 
; While I waited on hold, I cringed, hearing several message alerts come through. If the cell phone company wasn’t going to help, I’d have to take matters in my own hands.

  Finally, after navigating a phone tree, I connected with a live person. “Hi, this is Janet and who am I speaking with today?”

  “Hi, Janet, my name is Alyssa and I had a couple of questions about my new phone number.” After providing my phone number, Janet asked me to verify my name and address.

  “What were your questions?”

  “Who had this phone number before me?”

  Janet didn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry, miss, but that information is confidential.”

  I made sure Janet heard my dramatic sigh over the line. “I understand that, but the caller has been getting important messages and I thought she should know about them.”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t share any customer details.”

  “Could you check if she’s still a customer and get a message to her?” I wasn’t certain what I’d say to her. Emily, your ex is still madly in love with you and won’t stop writing you confessions I have no business reading.

  “No, miss, I’m sorry.” Janet’s tone remained firm.

  I let out a frustrated groan, despite predicting the call to be a dead end. What else could I do? Notify the police? The messages weren’t threatening, a little dark and tragic, but not menacing. The other option was to write back and explain Emily no longer had the number. But what if the man was dangerous and didn’t react well to the news Emily changed her number?

  Janet continued on. “Miss, we do offer call blocking. You can block the number from sending you messages.”

  “That might be a good idea. Janet, do you know how long it takes to reassign phone numbers? Would the phone number be given to me right after it was disconnected?”

  “No, miss. We normally wait at least ninety days before reassigning.”

  What the hell? Emily’s number had been off for more than three months and her ex was still sending her intense messages.

  After hanging up, I dared to check what messages came through from Emily’s ex.

  I saw your mom yesterday, she looks so much like you that it hurt to be near her. She invited me to lunch, but I don’t know if I could fake it for that long. I have to pretend for everyone that I’m all right and it’s hard to do that with her.

  Will I ever be okay again? When do you get over the kind of love we had? I don’t want to imagine, it’s never.

  I should block him. Yet, I was an overthinker, always analyzing every single situation until making a decision seemed impossible. Would I make the breakup worse for him? His words could be my own. I didn’t know if I could ever get over Jake. I still loved him and I also resented the sensation.

  His latter messages relieved some of my worry about the man being dangerous. If Emily’s mother was inviting him to lunch, then the situation wasn’t likely dire. His last message included the words I asked myself every day: Will I ever be okay again?

  Because of those words, I didn’t want to let go of the messages yet. This invisible stranger was suffering from the same heartbreak as me. At night, he was having similar feelings of utter loneliness. Reading the messages lessened my pain inexplicably. Because as much as I understood leaving was the right thing to do, my head wasn’t always in charge. My heart wanted back into my old life. And my old life was a lie.

  ***

  Jenny was in her element at Molly’s Pub. Men were enraptured by her and I couldn’t help but smile. She was a force of nature, drifting from table to table, flirting with an ease that made her intentions clear. She wanted a night of abandon, a few fun and mindless kisses. She wasn’t there to get her heart broken.

  I tagged after her, accustomed with the role of secondary, more comfortable there. I smiled, introduced myself, but kept a distance. I could be polite, but I wasn’t showing interest either. I envied Jenny, her ability to relish her life post-divorce. I was too shell-shocked, not knowing how to act in the real world. I could make polite conversation with rich benefactors at parties, always avoiding controversial topics such as religion and politics, but I didn’t know how to flirt with the opposite sex.

  Maybe I was dead inside. What if growing up in a house without being loved left me cold and empty for good? Because when I kissed and touched Jake, I didn’t feel the way I knew I should. I didn’t feel heat. I didn’t feel desire. I felt comforted. Less lonely. But shouldn’t I have wanted more? Shouldn’t I have yearned for desire and passion? But I didn’t. Because those emotions were uncontrollable and I’d been raised as a programmable object, someone who could be managed.

  The thought disturbed me enough I forced a bright smile on my face, making eye contact with the man sitting across from me. We had joined a group of three guys, locals Jenny had introduced me to moments earlier. But the names escaped me.

  The man caught my eye and returned the smile, sort of a wide and lazy grin that spoke of confidence. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but I could see why women would find him attractive. Truth was he reminded me of Jake, thinking maybe I had a type after all, even though Jake was my only boyfriend. Both men had light coloring, blond hair, and blue eyes. Like Jake, the man had a magnetic smile, the type of smile that drew you in and made you feel intimate with him. He wore a baseball cap, but dark blond curls stuck out of the sides. The curls were the only thing setting him apart from Jake. My ex had straight, thinning hair.

  He walked around the table to stand next to me, forcing his friend to take over his former seat. “I’m Zeke.”

  “Hi, I’m Alyssa, but I think we already met.”

  He shook his head. “No, this is more official. I’ve seen Jenny introduce you to like fifty people tonight, so there’s no way you remember anyone’s name.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at me. “And you looked like you were about to get your teeth drilled the entire time. I think this is the first time you smiled.”

  “I just haven’t had enough to drink yet. I need a few to loosen up.” I was lying. Drinking never made me outgoing and free-spirited. If I had more than three drinks, I became downright morose. However, Zeke took my response as a cue to buy me another drink. After he left the table for the bar, Jenny elbowed my side while lifting her eyebrows up and down. The two other men caught her knowing look and started to laugh.

  She whispered in my ear, “He’s cute. And he’s been single for a while.”

  “You weren’t an item, right?” Jenny made it clear she kept relationships casual, but I felt weird flirting with Zeke if they’d been together. She wasn’t sending out hands-off signals, but she was the first friend I felt belonged to me alone. I liked her and I felt touched by her friendship, like she was looking out for me.

  “Oh no, a little too young for my tastes. I’m not a teacher, if you know what I mean.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-five, I think,” she said, tapping a long red fingernail against her cheek. “He’s fun, though, and a little cocky, so he must be a decent lay. Well, at least that’s my theory. Every cocky guy I’ve been with has to prove himself in bed.”

  As Zeke walked back to the table, I studied him more closely. I didn’t feel much anything at all, but there could be a thousand reasons why he stirred nothing inside of me. I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to feel anything.

  Most of the time, I reminded myself of all the broken parts of my relationship with Jake. The emotional cruelty he could easily inflict on me at any given moment. But not all was bad. We had good times, especially at the beginning. Times when he’d send expensive flowers to my house just because, no special occasion needed. Or the nights when he held me until I fell asleep, restless after a bad dream. Yet, I couldn’t let the small acts of kindness overshadow that he cheated on me for years. By the time we broke up, he’d become careless with his adultery, no longer going to great lengths to conceal his deceit. In fact, I was the one who had to try harder to pretend I didn’t see what was happening
. Lie to myself about the perfume scent that wasn’t mine lingering on his clothes. Kid myself into believing the late-night texts he received when I stayed the night at his apartment were actually from his friends and not another woman.

  Zeke handed me a beer, clinking his bottle to mine. I wanted to ask him questions considered invasive. Did he ever cheat on a girlfriend? What kind of relationship did he have with his family? Had he been in love before? Still, I couldn’t hope for the first man after Jake to prove me wrong—that all men weren’t full of selfishness. The most I could hope for was a distraction, a man to make me forget I was starting over completely. Starting over when I should’ve left a long time ago. I felt as if I’d been dropped inside the center of a maze for most of my life. Finally, Jake’s worst betrayal had helped me find my way out.

  Zeke and I talked for most of the night. He smiled a lot, laughed when I didn’t say anything particularly funny. He edged closer in a discreet way until his thigh was flush with mine. When he spoke, I could feel his breath on the side of my cheek. The sensation wasn’t disconcerting as I expected, but felt sort of nice. His attention was focused solely on me and I was certainly not the prettiest girl in the bar nor the sexiest.

  At last call, Zeke didn’t ask me to his place or try to extend the night. He merely asked for my number, mentioned getting together sometime soon. I didn’t want to kiss him, so I appreciated that he hadn’t tried. I was hardwired to hate public displays of affection. Even if I had wanted to kiss him, I wouldn’t have been able to lose myself in the moment. I would be too aware of our surroundings. Jenny had no such qualms and had kissed Zeke’s friend long and hard on the mouth before we left. I yearned for that kind of desire for another person, to experience such need the rest of the world vanished.