Bookish (22 page)

That became my life. Short intervals of dodging questions about Isaac at work, then long, miserable bouts of curling up under my blankets, trying to sleep and lose myself to my daydreams.

I tortured myself occasionally to look up Isaac online. There were hundreds of news articles about him and some hot model, him living the bachelor high life, him buying a car. There weren’t any more mentions of the Baby Charlie thing, and no more mention of me. It was as though I’d never existed in his world.

I didn’t even know if I existed in my own world for that matter. Everything felt like it was in black and white, with the sound on mute.

It wasn’t any way to live; it was barely a way to survive.

***

Two weeks after my return, Auntie Abby had apparently had enough. I came down one morning for breakfast and she had prepared eggs, toast, hash browns and tea.

“What’s all this for?” I asked, incredulous but not ungrateful. I wasn’t one of those depressed waifs who stopped eating, if anything I gained an appetite when I wasn’t focused on having incredible sex with Isaac.

“It’s the first day of your new life,” she said and sat across from me. She heaped food on my plate and hers.

“What do you mean? I have a life, I’m happy with this life. I don’t want anything new, thank you.”

“This thing you’re doing? It’s not living. You’re moping around and barely surviving. It’s depressing me, and quite frankly, throwing off the chi of the whole place.”

“So you’re offended that my life being in tatters is throwing off your feng shui?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or be upset. I was leaning more towards laughter. She always had a way to tip things upside down and if anyone could break me out of my funk, it would be her.

“Yes, I’m offended that you are not doing your best to move past this. You owe it to yourself, to give yourself a break.”

I looked at her face, so full of love and sincerity, that I almost believed her. But it had all been my fault, trusting in Chloe. I needed to see myself through Auntie Abby’s eyes though, so I exhaled loudly, threw my hands in the air and said, “Fine, do your worst. How do you propose I start my new life?”

She gave me a wide grin and said, “Well, asking is the first step.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

It turned out Auntie Abby’s new life idea involved a lot of yoga in humid rooms with sweaty old hippies. Bikram Yoga, she called it. I called it torture, and if I never smell sweat and patchouli again, it will be too soon.

Basically we all met up in her friend’s studio, a windowless room with the heaters cranked. The idea was to stretch and move in a super heated space in order to release your toxins.

Seriously, I think I breathed in more stale weed that first week than I ever had in all my years at college. Some of them seemed to ooze pot from their pores. I swear one of Auntie Abby’s best buddies was so full of ganja, he was like one of those frogs that people lick to get high. One swipe of old hippy sweat and I would have been chilling out with the best of them.

Auntie Abby had a strict no drug policy though, she wanted this transformation to be natural, not propped up with artificial means.

But she’d take me for ice cream after each session, so I guess it wasn’t all bad. Rocky Road instead of a bong and all that.

A few days into my new life, I got home from work and saw a strange car parked in front of the house. It wasn’t unusual, we only had curb parking, and people parked in front all the time.

Either way, I braced myself when I opened the door, waiting for bad news or something. I don’t know why, the car just gave me bad vibes.

Happily it wasn’t my student loan officer or a bill collector, it was Drake, dropping off our newly cleaned and resized jewelry.

My stomach still turned to lead when I saw him there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Auntie Abby was trying to hook me up with him.

“Hey,” he said when I walked into the kitchen, “how’s it going?”

“Not bad,” I replied and sat down at the table.

“Try these on,” Auntie Abby said and handed me my mother’s rings. They fit perfectly and looked beautiful. I felt a little choked up at the realization that Isaac would never need these from me. He would never use them to propose.

“Lovely,” Drake said, “your mother had excellent taste.”

“I suppose that would have been my father though, right?”

“I guess so,” he replied, “but if your mother was half as beautiful as you, then I can see he had impeccable taste.”

“Thanks,” I muttered and slipped the rings off.

I made some excuse about needing to go upstairs to write or read or something, and I took off like I’d been stung.

Auntie Abby covered for my rude behavior with some excuse or another, but I didn’t really care.

The weird thing is that Drake was somebody I would have been interested in before Isaac. He was cute, blonde, beautiful eyes and a nice body. And he seemed to like me. I mean, from the what, two times I’d met him. I just got that vibe, that little snap between us that he was putting down.

I just wasn’t picking it up.

After he left, Auntie Abby came to my room to talk.

“You know I’ve been worried about you, right?” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied, waiting for it.

“And you know Drake is a very nice boy from a good family.”

“I did not know that, but it’s fascinating.”

“I just think you should get back in the saddle now that you’ve been bucked off. I don’t think it’s healthy to shut yourself off to love just because of one failed relationship.”

“I’m not a cowgirl.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And it wasn’t failed, it was a fucking disaster,” I said, sat up and turned to her, “it was a disaster of epic proportions. On a global fucking scale.”

“I know that, dear,” she said, “but things happen. Life happens. And I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I like your life, what’s wrong with ending up like you?”

“I’m lonely, Aubrey. It’s lonely getting to my age and having nobody.”

“You’ve got me.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she scolded gently, “I have nobody to cuddle with at night, nobody to watch crappy TV with, nobody to use those two-for-one coupons with. I always end up over eating just so I can save money. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why did you never settle down?”

“I did,” she said quietly, “I had a live in boyfriend when your parents died. You probably don’t remember him, Michael.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, startled by the revelation that she’d been in a serious relationship. I hated to admit it, but I’d always thought of her as partially androgynous.

“He couldn’t handle me taking you on full time,” she replied quietly.

“He left because of me? Oh god, I’m sorry,” I said.

“Not exactly, but maybe a little bit. But it’s okay, I’m happy with my decision and I’ve never regretted it since,” she said, “What I want you to realize is that being alone isn’t the best, and life moves at lightning speed. Before you know it, you’ll be my age and wondering where it all went.”

I thought about it for a moment. I’d never looked at Auntie Abby’s life, and I’d never wondered how she felt about things. Her guardianship of me had been thrust upon her without asking. I’d been so wrapped up in my misery and grief after my parents had died, that I’d never stopped to ask how she felt.

I pondered her words and finally said, “Fine, I’ll go on a date with Drake.”

She laughed and said, “Sounds good to me. Shall I call him and arrange it? Or do you want to text him? It just so happens that I’ve got his number right here.”

She handed me a folded up piece of notepad with his number scrawled across it. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of contacting him, and almost faint at the thought of going on a date with him.

But all those models Isaac had been with and Auntie Abby’s advice, they both spun in my head and came out the other side with one clear answer.

It was time for me to cowgirl up and get back in the saddle.

No matter how awful it might feel.

Chapter Twenty Eight

“So you don’t like biking and you don’t like basketball. How about hiking?” Drake asked me over dinner. A dinner date. A date that felt wrong and unsettling, it left a bad taste in my mouth, like ashes.

I was doing it for her, Auntie Abby, and then I’d scuttle home and hide under my covers until work the next morning.

“Sorry, no sports, I’m not your girl,” I said and stared out the window. He’d brought me to an IHOP, and I wasn’t the kind of girl to judge a man for not having money, but it did make Isaac’s absence all the more apparent.

“I’m not all about sports, but I do like to stay active,” he replied, “they taught us that in rehab. Finding other ways to express yourself.”

“Oh cool,” I said, “good for you.”

“I don’t mean to rain on our parade, it’s just that I find it’s better to be open about being a former addict. I mean, an addict. Once an addict, always an addict, right?”

“I guess so,” I replied, “I don’t know much about it, to be honest.”

“I’m sorry, I know it makes me sound so skeezy, I’ll just stop talking about it now. So tell me, what do you do?”

“I work at a bookstore,” I replied, “and that’s about it.”

The waitress interrupted us at that point and I ordered an appetizer and a tea. Drake ordered a full meal, then looked me up and down, cancelled his order and got himself a dessert.

When she left, he said, “I get it, you didn’t want to be set up on this. I wish you had mentioned that when I texted you, I certainly don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

I sighed and shot him a little smile. “I just broke up with somebody, it was really messy and awful and it’s going to take a while to get over. Auntie Abby kinda forced me into this because she’s tired of me moping apparently.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, “my life is a mess too. You know, rehab and all. My uncle forced me so I’d be more normal. Looks like that’s going over like a lead balloon, hey?”

I laughed and couldn’t help myself. I started telling him all about Isaac. The food came, we ate, and sat for an hour beyond that, talking and getting to know each other.

It turned out to be a pretty nice evening. It had distracted me long enough to stop obsessing over Isaac, and Drake turned out to be really funny.

We shook hands at the end of the night and agreed to be friends. I needed a friend now more than ever, and I headed home feeling a little more optimistic than I had since leaving Paris.

Auntie Abby grilled me when I got home and seemed disappointed at my lack of interest. She’d survive though, at least I had gotten out of the house.

I went to bed and curled up under the covers. A quick scan of TMZ told me Isaac was back in Seattle. My heart skipped a beat and my palms went sweaty.

I couldn’t help myself.

I texted him. Lawyers and threats of being sued be dammed, I needed to let him know I was thinking of him.

I miss you.

That’s all I wrote. There was nothing more to say.

I hoped he missed me too.

***

A couple weeks went by and I heard nothing back from Isaac. I wasn’t surprised but I was disappointed.

I had hung out with Drake quite a few more times, and was getting ready to see some art show downtown, a friend of his was a painter or something. He was quickly becoming one of my closest friends, I felt safer with him than I ever had with Chloe.

I applied another layer of mascara, looked at myself in the mirror and decided enough was enough. A day of reading about Isaac and his amazing life left me with an edge of misery under the makeup, but I had managed to cover my haggard, tear stained eyes pretty well. I almost looked normal.

I heard him beep, he’d borrowed his uncle’s car for this, and ran downstairs.

“I’ll be back later,” I yelled at Auntie Abby on the way out.

“Have fun,” she yelled back, “and try to see him as more than just a friend.”

“Never gonna happen,” I laughed and shut the door behind me. I swore I heard her yell something after me, but didn’t need to know her opinion on the whole thing. I knew she wanted me to move on, and considered her friend’s nephew the perfect choice.

“You look great,” Drake said when I got in the car, “I like what you did with your eyes.”

“You mean the mascara hiding my tears look?” I asked, “Yes it’s all the rage this year on the runways of Milan.”

“You’re a very beautiful girl, Aubrey,” he said and looked straight ahead as he drove, “don’t forget that. I know you’re a little self-deprecating, but it’s not healthy for you, mentally. Talk about yourself with a little more compassion.”

“Is that from you as a friend, or from your counsellor?”

“Both,” he said and smiled, “but yes, my counsellor said you sound depressed. And the only way to fix that is to start reinforcing yourself with positive thoughts.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” I said, “and I won’t be a Debbie Downer tonight, I swear.”

“Good,” he replied, “let’s just leave the past behind and have fun tonight. I think you’ll like the show.”

We drove and managed to find parking within a few blocks of the gallery. He held his arm out for me and we strolled to the show.

It was packed and I was immediately regretting the decision to join him. There were people from all backgrounds, from the obvious friends of the artist broke folks like me and Drake, to the upper echelons of high society. It made me nervous to think that I might cross paths with somebody from Isaac’s world.

Or even worse, Isaac himself.

I gulped down a glass of champagne and grabbed another from a passing waiter after that one was gone. Drake had found some people I didn’t know, so I drifted off and left him to catch up without me lurking in the background.

I was standing in front of a large abstract piece, contemplating throwing in the towel and becoming a painter, when I heard hushed mumbling behind me.