Page 123 of Better Than Gelato
* * *
I wake up Saturday morning to Maggie bringing me an omelet. After two days, I suddenly feel ravenous. I eat until my plate is empty, and Maggie is visibly relieved.
Pirate sticks her head in the door. “Sorry to interrupt. There’s a package for you.”
She brings me a box wrapped in brown paper and for a moment the irrational part of my brain says,It's from Jake! He’s sent me a box of—but even my irrational brain doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.What could he possibly send me? A box full of all the love he doesn’t feel for me?
“Thanks,” I tell Pirate. “You didn’t interrupt anything. I’m just lying here, smelly and unloved.”
She nods and turns to leave but then stops at the doorway and clears her throat. “You’re not unloved.”
Anger flares up, and I want to tell her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She must see it in my eyes because she winces a little but doesn’t back down. She points to Maggie.
“This girl’s been taking care of you day and night.”
And then she leaves. And I’m crying again, and I feel like a jerk, because of course she’s right, and I’ve been wallowing and ungrateful and oblivious.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Maggie. “I’m so sorry that you’ve had to take care of me.”
“It’s okay,” Maggie says. “That’s what I’m here for. Really.” She looks a little weepy, and Maggie never cries.
“I notice she didn’t correct you on being smelly,” she says after a minute, and I actually smile.
“I think I probably do need to shower.”
“Open your box first,” she says.
It’s from my parents. A batch of my mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies and a note in my dad’s careful handwriting that says, “We heard you were having a hard time. We love you.”
“Look, more people who love you!” Maggie says, and I cry some more.Sheesh, when will I run out of tears?
We eat cookies for a while in silence.
“Do you feel like talking about things?” Maggie asks. “About what happened?”
Maybe it’s the sugar, but all of a sudden, I do feel like talking about things.
“I’ll tell you what happened. He tricked me into falling in love with him when I was really trying not to, and then a year later he broke my heart.”
I suddenly feel like yelling about things.
“He’s a heartless, elitist jerk who lives in a stupid mansion,” I say loudly. “His family doesn’t go camping on vacation. They go skiing in the Poconos.”
It feels good to talk loudly, so I talk even louder.
“He’s condescending, like ‘I’m very rich and go to an Ivy league school, and I think it’s adorable that you’re going to UC San Diego on scholarship. Why don’t you leave your tiny little dreams and come be a cheerleader for my big, impressive dreams on the East Coast?’ Also, he’s no fun.”
Maggie raises an eyebrow at this.
“Okay, he’s some fun. But he’s also a scaredy pants. Not a risk taker. He’s always like, ‘Juliet, don’t break into that locked park. Juliet, don’t go to the beach in the dark. Juliet, don’t ride that scooter, you’ll crash the minivan on the way to dropping our kids off at school.’”
Maggie is noticeably alarmed, and some part of me recognizes that I’ve turned hysterical, but I’m on a roll.
“Well, you know what? I did all that stuff, not the minivan thing, but the other stuff, and I didn’t get hurt at all. No scratches! Totally unscathed! But I dated him for a year, and kaboom, shattered. Absolutely shattered.” I cross my arms over my chest, pleased with the case I have made.
Maggie nods. “I see.” A pause. “I have some follow-up questions.”
“I’ll do my best, but I feel like that’s mostly the gist of it right there.”
