Page 37 of Running Into You
“It’s not that unbelievable, is it?” I ask.
“Betty, you once faked malaria to avoid going with me to a spin class.”
“Spin classes are dumb,” I counter. “You don’t go anywhere. You just spin like a hamster on a wheel. Running is kind of fun. You can go different places, change things up, talk…” I trail off.
“Talk to your hot neighbor whom you’re also sleeping with?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “That too.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so casual about this.” She laughs. “And Josh is on the same page? He doesn’t want a relationship?”
I almost choke on my ricotta-stuffed Medjool date. “Josh was in a long-term relationship that started in high school. He doesn’t want to be in one again, at least not right now. And when he is ready, I’m sure he’ll find someone perfect for him.” I take a long sip of my wine and add. “Or get back together with Eleanor.” The thought of them getting back together makes me feel physically ill. Maggie watches me thoughtfully, but says nothing for a few moments.
“Tell me about her,” she says, plucking a dried apricot from the board. “What’s she like?”
“Perfect,” I say miserably. “Gorgeous, athletic, brilliant. She was the valedictorian of their class. She won an award for her volunteer work with the elderly, and she raised thousands of dollars for the humane society to spay and neuter feral cats. She is the best at everything, and everyone loves her.” It’s not until the words are coming out of my mouth that I realize how much I resent her.
“And yet, Josh isn’t with her,” Maggie says gently. “He’s with you.”
“He’s not ‘with’ me, Mags.” And I don’t believe he ever will be, not really. “We’re having fun, but at the end of the day, this isn’t going anywhere.” Regardless of whether or not I want it to. Do I want it to? No, of course not. How had Kurt put it?You’re not the wife and mother type, Betty.“And that’s okay, because we’re both getting what we want right now.” I lighten my tone and try to set us back on the fun wine night track. “So, just how many male bodies did you make all smooth and shiny today?”
“Eight.” She groans into her hands. “It took forever. They were okay, for the most part, but one of them cried. He tried to blame it on allergies, but you know my shit is all hypoallergenic.” The conversation lightened considerably, and we laugh and snack until we are both tipsy and full. Just before eleven, Mark texted her to say he was coming to pick her up, and I walked her down to the main entrance.
“Let’s all go for dinner sometime soon,” she says, hugging me tightly. “You, me, Mark… Josh if he’s free.” I see what she’s doing, but I’ve drunk too much wine to start an argument, so I tell her that sounds great. I wait until she’s climbed into Mark’s silver Audi before turning and heading back to my apartment.
I contemplate taking a shower but decide to just follow my normal nighttime routine. I wash my face, scrubbing harder than I need to, as though I can rid myself of the negative thoughts that keep invading my brain. Josh getting back together with Eleanor. Kurt telling me I’m not cut out for relationships. I’d always suspected that I wouldn’t be, but to have it confirmed by the only person I’d seriously dated caused a lot of damage. I floss my teeth and then brush them, working hard to remove any evidence of the red wine. When I’m satisfied they’re clean, I change into my comfiest pjs and crawl into bed. I drank more than I normally do and my head swims when I turn it too quickly. I check my phone before turning off the bedside table lamp and see that Josh texted me a few hours ago.
Josh:Have fun with Maggie. Want to hang out tomorrow?
I do want to hang out with him tomorrow, but I don’t respond. I plug my phone into its charger, set it to do not disturb, and turn off the light. As I lay there, waiting for sleep, my mind paints a picture for me. It’s a vision of a future with Josh. Buying a home together. Raising a brood of brunette ragamuffins. We watch them run around in a beautifully landscaped backyard as we sit curled up on the back porch. Our intertwined hands sport matching gold bands. My last conscious thought is that Josh will have that life one day. But it won’t be with me.
Chapter 22
Josh
“You have a hairline that most people only dream about.” The stout furry man says admiringly. “I mean it. You will have a full head of hair until the day you die.”
“Well, that’s something to look forward to.” I laugh, running a hand through it. There is significantly less hair than there had been when I sat down. I’m pleased with how it looks in the mirror. Usually, after a haircut, it takes a week or two for me to like it. Mr. Ramirez very clearly knows what he’s doing. He talked non-stop while he worked; about his kids, his grandkids, and the Red Sox. It’s like he doesn’t need to think about what he’s doing; his hands just know. When he’s happy with his work, he brushes the loose hair off my neck and removes the cape.
“Don’t forget your treat,” he says, nodding toward a glass jar of lollipops while ringing me up. “You sat very still.” I pay with cash and tell him I didn’t need change. “You take one of those for your friend Betty too.” He orders as I’m helping myself to the jar. “She’s a nice girl, that Betty.”
“Yeah,” I smile at him, “She is.” I thank him again for the haircut and make my way outside. The days are definitely getting colder as we enter October. I don’t mind fall, but I am not a big fan of what comes after. I wonder how Betty will adjust to running in winter. It can definitely be more of a challenge, breathing the frigid air, and running on ice and snow. We’ve still got some time before that, but I need to start planning.
I check my phone to see if she’s returned my text from last night and I’m disappointed when I see she hasn’t. It’s fine, I tell myself. She’s probably still asleep after staying up late drinking with Maggie and talking about whatever women talk about when they drink. Had they talked about me? Do I hope they had?
I jog up the stairs to my apartment, hesitating when I pass Betty’s door. I decide not to knock in case she’s enjoying a late sleep-in. It’s only 9:30 a.m. and depending on how late she was up or how much she drank; she may need the extra rest. Once in my own apartment, I decide to have a quick shower. Haircuts always make me feel itchy and I want to rinse any remaining loose hair off me.
In the shower, I soap up, wishing I had that soap that Maggie made for Betty. I don’t know what she puts in it, but whatever it is, it makes her skin so soft and sweet-smelling.Stop thinking about how soft her skin is, I tell myself, but it’s no use. I can’t take a shower without thinking of how she looked in the shower. Hell, I can’t seem to stop thinking about her, regardless of what I’m doing.
It’s not just the sex. Most of the time, I’m just thinking about random things. I wonder how her day is going, what she’s having for lunch, and who she’s talking to. Is it that Andrew guy from work? Who I’m definitely not jealous of for being in the same building and breathing the same air as her all day. I put my face directly into the shower stream as though I can somehow flush her out of my system.
I turn off the shower and dry myself off. As I’m putting on my sweatpants, I hear a notification from my phone and almost trip over my own feet trying to get to it. While it is a text, it’s not from Betty.
Callum:Hey. Fix things with your girl yet?
Me:Not my girl. But yeah, we’re good.
Are we good? Everything had seemed fine between us. Better than fine, considering the number of times we’ve hooked up this week. I’ve been trying to at least act casual when I’m around her. I don’t want her to feel smothered or get sick of me. God, what if she gets sick of me?
