“It’s beautiful. I know he’s the worst, but he’s talented.”
“He’s not the worst,” I say to my desk. “I think I’m going to go home.”
*
I’M IN BEDwith my laptop watching the closing credits onGrapevine.A good cry is a lot like a good laugh, I realize. It starts as your head connects to something in your heart and just sort of takes over. The wet eyes, the snot. This movie is so Dan—quiet and warm, like you want to climb right into it and stay forever. The small things are the big things. It’s the thing that happens at breakfast.
I have done everything wrong. I went in search of a prize, and when I didn’t get it, I turned on the prize I already had. I don’t deserve Dan—I know this—but I miss him in a visceral way. It’s been one day, and I am already desperate to hear his voice. I could call him and test the waters. I could tell him that I loved his movie—everyone likes compliments. He’d say thank you and then there would be an open line between us again. I don’t want to rip myself open and show him how ugly things are inside me, but maybe we could talk about this movie or Ruby or the forest. And maybe I wouldn’t feel so desperately empty anymore.
I call him before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. It goes straight to voicemail. I text him: Loved your movie
It doesn’t go through. He’s blocked me.
I had the open line. I could have said anything. I could have told him how I felt and that I was scared and ashamed. I didn’t.
Clem knocks on my door when I’m in the middle of watching it a second time.
“Is this a nervous breakdown or the flu? Because I’m out of soup.”
I pat my bed. “Get in,” I say.
She climbs into bed next to me, still in pink scrubs, still coated in the stress of the day. “This doesn’t look likeBridget Jones.”
“Shh,” I say, and I can feel her relax into the movie. It’s the way the light hits the vineyards and the way the heroine is backlit by the sunset. It’s the small details that attract your eye, the Dan-ness of it all, that make this movie great.
“Okay,” she says. “It was beautiful. So are you going to pine over this guy forever?”
“That’s my current plan, yes.”
She smiles at me.
“I called him an hour ago.”
“From your closet, I assume.”
“No, from right here.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I’m a real badass. But he didn’t answer. I sent a text and it didn’t go through. I think he’s blocked me, so. Probably for the best.”
Clem lets out a breath. “Remember when Nick was pulling away and I kept saying he won’t give me what I need? Remember what you said?”
“Stop it.”
“No, say it.”
“Whatever it was, I just saw it on Instagram or something,” I say.
“You said I should stop waiting for someone to give me what I need.”
I roll my eyes. “Yep, I’m like Yoda. Please soak up all of my wisdom.”
She doesn’t laugh. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to come clean to your mom. Like now. All the heavy lifting you thought this movieTrue Storywas going to do for you, showing your mom something true, opening up a conversation. I think you need to do that for yourself.”
*
ON TUESDAY Igo to work and text my mom from under my desk.
