Love Love (6 page)

“
Okay, then I’m coming with
you.”

“
No, you stay and have fun.
I’ll see you at home later.”

Fran puts her hands on her hips. “No
way. I’m coming, too.”

“
Okay.”

We say hurried goodbyes to Blaine and
Kyle and stumble towards the subway. Fran puts her arm around my
shoulder. “So, what happened in there?”

I stop walking and look up to meet her
eyes, recognition hitting her immediately.

“
Oh God, Gabby...Clark?
Again?”

The combination of booze, anger, and
sadness slurs my speech, and I come back practically spitting on
her. “What the hhelll is that ssupposed to mean?!”

“
You know what it fucking
means, Gabby. It’s been three years, and we’ve had this
conversation over two hundred times. You need to move
on!”

“
I can’t help it! I loved
him so much, and I miss him. Every damn day…I miss him. I fffucking
hate love Fran, I just fffucking hate it. I hate the way it smells,
the way it tastes, the way it gives you those itchy little
goosebumps, the way people walk around with those ridiculous happy
smiles.” Falling to the ground, my knees scraping the pavement, I
wrap my arms around myself as new tears trickle down my
mascara-stained face. “You just don’t understand, Fran, it’s not
that easy!”

“
The hell it isn’t!” Fran
bites back. “I was having a good time in there. I actually liked
Kyle and didn’t want to leave.” Her hands go to her hips, her jaw
working itself back and forth, face tense with anger. “You know
what, Gabby?! I’m getting tired of you acting like you’re the only
one who lost Clark. I lost him, too! I loved him, too!” A heavy sob
escapes her chest. “He was like a brother to me…” She looks down at
the ground for a minute before she makes her way back up to me. Her
eyes soften and her voice is raw with emotion. “I miss him, too,
Gabby…I miss him, too.”

“
I’m sorry, Fran,” I
whisper. “I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

Fran lowers herself to the pavement
next to me, taking a deep breath and bumping my shoulder hard. She
reaches under my arms and lifts me off the cement. “Come on, you
pain in my ass, let’s go home.”

***

The
next morning I wake up with what feels like a hammer to the side of
my head. Remind me never to take Fran’s advice again. I practically
fall out of bed, holding my pounding brain in place, and make my
way to the bathroom to grab some Advil. I crack open the medicine
cabinet, take out what I hope will be my instant relief, then pull
apart an animal-themed Dixie Cup from the stack on the counter. I
fill it with tap water three times and down it quickly, grabbing
onto the sink to steady myself from this dizzying whirl. I’m
surprised I can even put an outfit together this morning, but when
I finally do and am getting ready to leave, Fran stumbles out of
her bedroom, holding her head.

“
Bad hangover, huh?” I
laugh.

With a throaty voice, she replies,
“yeah, you could say that.”

I walk over to the kitchen, find a
clean glass, quickly pull a bottle of Poland Spring from the
fridge, then pour it for her before grabbing my coat and purse.
“Better drink a couple of those so you can make it through the day.
There’s also some Advil in the bathroom cabinet. I’m off to work;
I’ll see you later.”

“
Gabby, wait,” Fran says,
slowly making her way to me.

“
What?” I don’t know if
it’s the headache or last night’s argument that makes me want to
run away.

“
I just wanted to apologize
for what I said last night. I mean, I meant what I said, but it
just came out wrong. I don’t know, Gabby…I just want you to be
happy, you know, and I haven’t seen you happy in a long time. It’s
just time, that’s all.” She pauses. “You know, remember when we
were growing up and I had issues with friends, boyfriends, and my
stupid dad? All those days I just wanted to disappear, to crawl
into a hole and just stay there. Gabby, you wouldn’t let me. You
were always the one who was there for me and who lifted me up from
my well of despair. You made me see that things would get better.
In many ways, you helped me to believe in myself; you helped me to
realize my own strength. Well, now it’s my turn, Gabby. I want to
do that for you.”

I don’t know what to say. Fran and I
don’t usually talk about these touchy-feely things. “Thanks.” Then
I turn and walk out the door.

Someone is smoking a
cigarette in the entranceway of our building. I guess the
No Smoking
sign on the
wall means nothing. I fan away the smoke, which only makes my head
hurt more, and head toward the subway. Every sound, every movement,
is intensified this morning. The screeching of tires, heels making
their way across the sidewalk, taxi drivers screaming at each
other. Why do they have to scream?

By the time I step off the platform
and onto the street, I’m suddenly aware of an urgent need to pee. I
have to go, and desperately. I pressure my feet to carry me faster,
but they’re less than cooperative. When I finally get to The Brew
House, I head straight for the bathroom, rushing so I don’t have
accident number two here.

I’m greeted by a delightful bathroom,
if there is such a thing. One wall is purple and the other yellow,
covered with what looks like graffiti art, while the third is
covered in a giant chalkboard. How cool. I quickly pee, trying to
translate the graffiti words into English, then put my purple lace
undies back in place and smooth my skirt. When I go to flush, I
notice the gifts in the toilet that were left for me. Gross.
Grabbing the handle, I try to flush it. Nothing happens. You’ve got
to be kidding me! Shit. The toilet is backed up!

Now what? Pacing the floor, trying to
come up with some wondrous plan of how to make this all go away. My
mind’s blank. Maybe I’ll kill some time and try again. I wash my
hands slowly. Hmmm…better wash them again. There’s hand lotion on a
funky café table, so I put that on and rub it in thoroughly. I
think I need some lip gloss. Pulling it out of my purse, I stare in
the mirror a bit too long until my lips are glowing. Then I hear a
knock on the door. Great! Now the next person is going to think I
left this shit in the toilet. “Just one second,” I call out. I try
to flush again with no luck, so I snatch a couple of pieces of
toilet paper and throw them over the crap in the toilet. That’ll
have to do. Grabbing a piece of chalk, I write the words “it wasn’t
me” on the chalkboard and draw an arrow to the toilet. Yeah, real
believable.

When I leave the bathroom, the next
person is practically standing on top of the door. I guess she
really has to go, too. Chewing on my lip, I walk slowly over to the
counter. It’s the same cutie from yesterday. His hair looks a
little different; maybe shorter. I can see his eyes today. They’re
a warm, welcoming brown. “Hey, Brad.”

A smile turns up his mouth, forcing
out that adorable dimple. “Hey, Gabby. What can I get
you?”

Well, here goes nothing. My cheeks are
burning and my foot taps nervously on the floor. “I’m not sure how
to tell you this, but there’s a problem in the bathroom, and I
swear I had nothing to do with it. I did go, because I just
couldn’t wait, but I didn’t leave the crap in there. I hold up two
fingers. Scouts Honor.”

Brad raises his eyebrows and cocks his
head to the side. “Did you just say Scouts Honor?”

I nod my head because, at this point,
I shouldn’t be speaking at all.

The left corner of his mouth curls up.
“Is the toilet clogged?”

I bite my lip so hard I think I taste
blood. “Kind of.”

He makes his way over to the bathroom
and disappears for what seems like an eternity. While he’s gone, I
order the biggest sticky doughnut they have and scarf it down. Then
I order another one. By the time I’m finished eating, I’ve added a
serious sugar high to my hangover. I start humming Eliza
DeAngeles’s song “Clumsy Girl” to myself…my theme song. Brad
finally emerges and his eyes meet mine. I wonder what he’s
thinking. Does he believe me, or is he thinking that was my crap in
the toilet? Ugh.

Shaking his head and smirking, he
walks straight over to me. “All taken care of.”

I hope that by now the pink has left
my cheeks and taken the embarrassment with it.

“
I like your note, by the
way. The arrow was a nice touch.”

I can’t help but smile. “Thanks. I’m
kind of creative that way.”

“
So, do you want a
coffee?”

“
Well, I’m not sure my
stomach can handle coffee after that. Plus, I just ate two sticky
doughnuts. Do you have any Tums?”

Laughter coats his eyes. “Come on,
I’ll make you another Salted Caramel Mocha on the house. I mean,
you don’t want that shit on your mind when you leave here…no pun
intended.”

“
Yeah, real funny. Okay,
I’ll take one, but I’m paying you for it, and I won’t take no for
an answer this time.”

“
You got it.”

While he’s making my drink, I check
out more of the sweets in the display case. I’m wondering if I
should grab something else for work when I glance down at my watch
and notice it’s 9:15. Shit, I’m late! Robby hates
tardiness!

Thankfully Brad hands me my coffee and
I manage not to spill it all over. “Thanks, Brad. I gotta run, I’m
seriously late.” I start heading for the exit when I feel a hand at
my shoulder. Flipping around, I see Brad.

He bends down and grabs something from
the floor, then pushes back up to his feet. A smile tugs at his
lips. “You had a piece of soggy toilet paper stuck to your
shoe.”

“
Thanks.” The hits just
keep coming.

I hurry down the street, weaving
through the maze of body odor crowding the sidewalks. Everyone is a
blur today, literally, and I just realized I left my sunglasses at
The Brew House. Unbelievable. Robby’s going to kill me. I rush back
in the other direction and as soon as I walk in, Brad waves my
glasses at me.

“
I figured you’d be back
for these,” he says with a small smile.

“
Thanks. See
ya.”

“
See you around,
Gabby.”

I grab my sunglasses and my now
lukewarm mocha and head for the door, again. I’m almost free and
clear when I hear the door jingle and instinctively look up. My
blue eyes are met by a forest of green sparkles, and that’s all I
see. I don’t need to see anything else, recognizing those eyes
immediately and knowing who they belong to. My heart pounds in my
chest. I move forward and clumsily trip over one of the chair legs,
dropping the contents of my purse on the floor and my drink along
with it. “Shit,” I mumble to myself. Let’s look at my list of
infractions. First, caught gawking, and second, spilling my drink.
And I can’t forget dumping out my purse. Geez, I shouldn’t even be
allowed to walk around by myself.

All at once, everything goes into slow
motion. Dark and Sexy moves toward me; at the same time I hear Brad
say, “are you okay?” No, actually, I’m not. I want to crawl into a
deep hole and start this day all over again.

Dark and Sexy eyes me amusingly, and
again I’m embarrassed. God, I’m so transparent it’s ridiculous.
Could I be any more flustered? Or klutzy, for that matter? I don’t
think so. When he reaches down to help me pick up the contents of
my purse, I’m suddenly eternally grateful there aren’t any tampons
in there. All at once, my muscles tense up and I dig my fingernails
into my palm as I stare blankly over his shoulder.

He continues in silence, then looks up
at me, waving my wallet in front of my face. “Hey, are you
alright?”

And I’m immediately snapped back to
the now.

Somehow I manage to find my voice.
“Yes, I’m fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He gives me a dubious grin.
I’m sure he’s thinking my excuse has
bullshit
written all over it. He
finishes helping me with my purse and pulls me to my feet. When our
fingers touch, I immediately feel a shudder move through my entire
body.

“
Let me at least buy you
another drink. What was it you were drinking?”