Promise Me (3 page)

It took awhile after what happened with Chris, but I did eventually start dating again. No one has ever really been special enough to last more than a few months though. There was one exception, a guy who Julia dubbed "Romeo". We met while I was in Italy. He was an art student, like me, so it was easy to open up to him and eventually let him be just a little more than what I had with other guys. I'm sure that the romantic back drop surrounding us 24 hours a day helped as well. However, staying in Italy for only an abbreviated time, we eventually stopped seeing each other right before I moved back to the states.

Upon my return stateside, I immediately moved in with Julia, much to the displeasure of my parents who thought I'd be returning to my hometown. They couldn't grasp that wanting to be a Head Curator for a famous art museum one day would never happen living in a small town like Skippack, PA. So, Miami it is, for now. We live in a cozy two bedroom house in Coral Gables that Julia's parents bought her as a gift right after college. Since she had plenty of room, it was kind of a no-brainer. We're just a few short blocks from the world famous Venetian Pool, where Julia and I can be seen any weekend lying by the pool perfecting our tans.

Glancing back to the invite between us on the kitchen table, the memories start to flood my mind. Ugh, just the thought of the two of them, even all these years later, makes me uncomfortable. I'm hoping that Julia will drop the subject. Her glare tells me otherwise, so I take the easy out and stand up to replenish my coffee. She starts tapping her nails on her coffee mug like she's playing the piano. I can feel her stare boring holes into the back of my head until I can't take it a second longer, so I turn around to face the music. "What?"

"You know what, Sabrina... come on, you know you've thought about it... about him," she says with a sly grin.

I have. I've thought about Tyler Anderson over the years often. I've wondered what happened to him and what he's doing with his life. My parents have never once mentioned his name in any of their calls and I don't dare ask, since I know it would only lead to more questions. They don't need to know that he took care of me the night I found Chris and Lisa together, or that I made him a promise. A promise that I've kept every day since I made it.

The very next day I confronted them and moved on. I didn't have much of a social life after that, but it was by choice. I focused primarily on my last two months of high school, setting my sights on college and getting out of my hometown, trying my hardest to never look back. Over the years, that's been difficult to do. My parents never knew the full extent of Chris and Lisa's betrayal, so they tend to think it was my ambition to do well in my career and getting to college with no attachments that drove them together. My mom never lets an opportunity go by to inform me just how well Chris is doing or how Lisa's the doting wife and mother to their two children. I'm probably imagining it, but every time my mom tells me these kinds of things I hear a perverse kind of glee in her voice, like she actually enjoys twisting the knife a bit more and reminding me how I made a mistake in choosing my career over Chris.

It's not worth fighting at this point. Instead, I let her ramble on for the obligatory five minutes, hoping she'll eventually stop. Apparently, the statutory limit on how much time can go by according to her standard has yet to come to fruition. The only bright spot in letting her wax poetic about them is the memory it brings me of Tyler.

Tyler Anderson was the town's rebel. He was always in some form of trouble since the time we were in grade school. He wasn't a person that you casually even said hello to, he either talked to you or you didn't exist. By the time we were in high school, all the girls would drool whenever you mentioned his name. Yes, he was that gorgeous. The quintessential, tall, dark and handsome type who would probably break your heart in a million pieces while making sure you had the time of your life in the process.

He was also my savior that horrible night years ago. He helped me when I needed it most and for that I'm forever grateful. But that sure as hell doesn't mean I would bite the bullet and go back home for our ten year reunion just to satisfy my curiosity about him.

"Bringing up Tyler isn't helping your case, Julia," I tell her, but I can already see the wheels turning in her head. "I seriously regret ever telling you about him in the first place."

"Girl, I don't regret it. I've even fantasized about those… what did you call those eyes of his again? Oh right! Willy Wonka Chocolate River eyes."

I make a grab for the dishtowel and throw it at Julia, who is doubled over laughing. She catches it easily and gets herself together before pleading her case. "Come on, Sabrina, I know you're dying to see him. What would it hurt? And please don't give me that 'I don't want to see Chris' and what's-her-face' excuse. You have a couple of months to prep yourself mentally to see them. Get yourself together and get your ass back up there and show them that you don't give a damn about them... and then... throw in a little dirty, filthy, hot sex with your dream man while you're at it. Because girlie, you seriously need to get laid."

That last bit, she says as serious as a heart attack. Worst part about it is that I don't even have an answer for that one. She's right. I do need to do something about my sex life, or I should say lack thereof. I'm not a virgin and not a prude either. Cautious might be the better word to describe my self-imposed celibacy. I think after finally losing your virginity to your boyfriend of three years, then two weeks later finding out he's been cheating on you with your best friend would do a number on anyone. "Romeo" was my last sexual escapade, and that was a little over four years ago. It's not so much that I don't want to have a sexual relationship with a man; I just can't seem to muster enough trust in any potential candidate to take the relationship to the next level.

"Technically, they were more deep chocolate than Willy Wonka Chocolate River chocolate," I correct her, trying to keep a straight face. I can't stay mad at Julia for long. She's always been there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on and I know she means well. "I don't know Julia, I need to really think about it. He probably won't even show up anyway. Tyler Anderson isn't the type of guy who would be into this kind of thing. It would be stupid to think he'll even be there. Plus, he could be married with kids by now."

Julia puts down her coffee mug and looks at me as if she's the cat who ate the canary. "From everything you've ever told me about him, he doesn't strike me as the marrying type. He's definitely still single and he'll be there. No doubt in my mind about that. I'd say he's probably been fantasizing about you for ten years. As a matter of fact, I'm willing to bet you the price of your airline ticket that he'll show up and make it more than worth your while."

"You're nuts, you know that, right," I tell her between sips of my ignored coffee that I might as well throw out. I turn slightly and toss out the dregs into the sink before I hop onto the countertop and take a seat. "And what makes you think he'll even remember me?"

Standing up from the kitchen table, she glides across to the sink, puts her coffee mug down and turns around to face me while putting her hand on her right hip.
Uh-oh,
I know this look. She's about to give me the business. "This ought to be good," I mutter between a giggle at her stance.

"Pffft, that's simple. You said so yourself, he said you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and that he saw the 'real you'... this guy wanted you. He might have never said anything or shown even the slightest bit of interest before that one time he swept in like Prince Charming and saved the day. But Sabrina, trust me on this one, no guy goes around telling girls stuff like that unless they're into them. This guy was really into you and for whatever reason he never said jack shit to you before that night. This is your chance to do something about it."

I have to admit it, she's right. Who says things like that? God knows Chris never did when we were together. Sure, he said he loved me, blah, blah, blah, but he never said any of the things Tyler did that night. Things that to this day make my insides feel like mush and cause my knees to go wobbly. The thought of him saying those things again or better yet, doing things to me, makes me blush instantly. I turn my face to look down at the tiles on the floor while I fiddle with the hem of my tank top before I respond. "Ok, so let's assume you're right about Tyler's feelings towards me back then. What if he doesn't show up to the reunion? I'll be stuck there having to deal with
them
."

"Not a problem," she says, "you'll be looking so hot that Chris will regret the day he ever decided to fuck you over with your best friend. As for that bitch, well, she'll be so jealous by the way Chris is going to be looking at you, that she'll be dying to get out of there quicker than she can say 'I'm a slut'."

"Damn, Julia remind me never to get on your bad side," I say as I eye her up and down like she's about to start kicking my ass in my own kitchen.

"Listen, it really sucks to have a guy cheat on you, trust me, I know, we've all been there. It's like some messed up rite of passage into the Ya-Ya Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I get it. He's a piece of shit and deserves to have his dick shrivel up and fall off. But, there is a whole other level of bottom feeders, and that's where your girl Lisa is for what she did to you. There's definitely a special place in hell for chicks like her." She backs away from the sink and starts walking backwards out of the kitchen. Hesitating for a moment, she freezes in mid-step as if she's just had an epiphany and says, "It's like
Fight Club
. The number one unspoken rule of best friends is you don't steal your best friend's boyfriend right from under her nose."

After imparting that last piece of wisdom, she turns on her heel and struts out of the kitchen and down the hall until I hear her bedroom door close behind her. I turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of the invitation still sitting on the kitchen table mocking me. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should go and get it over with, I think to myself.

"STOP THINKING ABOUT IT! JUST GO," I hear her yell from her room.

My head snaps quickly to the hallway. "Fuck me," I say under my breath, she knows me too well.

As if on cue, she yells again, "AND STOP CURSING, IT DOESN'T SUIT YOU!"

Shaking my head, I jump off the counter and snatch up the invite, laughing to myself that Julia, of all people is telling me that I shouldn't curse. She's right, I rarely do. So, when the occasion does present itself, she's the first person to point out that something major must be going on for me to bring out the "big guns", as she puts it.

Walking back to my room, I make a beeline to my closet. I open the door and look up towards the row of shelves on the back wall. On the top shelf is a box marked "old stuff". Shoving things aside, I grab the corner of the box and jerk it towards the edge of the shelf until I can easily manage to get a good grip on it and take it down.

I walk the box back to my bed then plop down and stare at it for a second as if the contents might jump out at me like a jack-in-a-box. Finally, I open the lid to reveal what little items I kept from my time in high school. At the very bottom of the box, I see what I'm looking for. I pull the yearbook out and start flipping through the pages until I get to the picture of Tyler. I remember as if it was yesterday how his strong arms felt around me. How it felt to have his breath fan my cheek as he pressed his lips against it and how he tenderly wiped my tears away. Clutching the yearbook to my chest, I fall back onto my pillows and close my eyes. I can picture him standing in front of me, pulling me into his arms and holding me so close that I don't know where I end and he begins. When my eyes flutter open, I pull the yearbook off my chest and spare one more glance at Tyler's picture. Julia's right. If I don't go, I'll always wonder about him and I'll regret it. I already do.

"Damn it," I gripe out loud, "I can't believe I'm actually going to do this."

Hastily, I sit up and close the yearbook with a loud clap then toss it back into the box. I grab my cell phone from my night stand and scroll through the recent calls until I see the phone number I'm looking for. Answering on the second ring, she says, "Good morning, sweetheart."

Before I can chicken out, I tell her what she has been waiting to hear from me for the past ten years. "So, looks like I'm coming home for a visit, Mom."

I love Miami. I love everything about it except one thing; the heat. It's ridiculously hot almost year round. Whenever my parents visit, they spend almost half the time complaining about it. Thank God it's late May, since I don't think I can handle the 99 degree days just yet. If it had been one of those days, I would be drowning in a pool of sweat during the ten second walk from my front door to the car.