Page 87 of Love Lessons
We hang up, and I listen to the silence for a moment. The villa is so quiet at night. And when I close my eyes, I picture Vera in her dress at the opera, smiling as the stage lights reflect on her pretty face.
I can also feel the weight of her sleepy head on my shoulder in the van on the way back. And remember the scent of her cologne.
This trip was everything. I needed to get out of Brooklyn and get out of my head. Spending time with her turned into something so special that I can barely stand to give it up.
Except I know in my gut that I don’t deserve that girl right now. And maybe I never will. Tomorrow I’m going back to New York, where I’m going to have to face every problem I’ve created for myself. It won’t be easy.
I lift my phone again and hit O’Doul’s number this time.
“Hey,” he says after only one ring. “Still no news.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “Just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna visit that rookie in Boston. I’m going to tell him how sorry I am that he got hurt.”
There’s a beat of silence on the line. “That’s real brave, man. But I think it will help you.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I also think maybe I might be depressed.”
Patrick whistles. “You think maybe?”
“Well, uh…” I clear my throat again. “I am. It’s not, uh, super bad. But it’s not great, either. I’m still having those dreams sometimes.”
“Are you finally gonna tell Doc Mulvey about ’em?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, feeling sheepish. “Not sure why that matters.”
“Just try it,” O’Doul presses. “It’s like… you tell him, and you just feel different afterwards. Instead of cramming it all inside you. Shit looks different when you say it out loud.”
“All right. Fine,” I say, capitulating.
“You come home tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll text him. I’ll make you an appointment.”
“Okay, sure.” He’s probably thinking I’ll blow it off if I have the chance.
He might be right.
We hang up, and the last person I text is my mom. I tell her I RSVP’d to the wedding and that I’ll see here there.
That wedding is just another hurdle to jump. I’ll show up and clap at all the right times and smile when I’m expected to.
But I don’t have to like it.
That done, I finally close my eyes. And when I do, I see Vera’s bright smile on the backs of my eyelids.
* * *
The next daywe’re all a bit quiet as we prepare to leave the villa behind.
“The end of a vacation is hard,” Charli says as I carry my suitcase downstairs.
“It is,” I agree. I’m peeved to see that Vera has already carried her extensive luggage downstairs without my help. She’s chatting with Fiona and Aly while we wait for the limos.
And she’s ignoring me, which I probably deserve.
She ducks me on the jet, too, passing right by me to sit at the table in back with Anton and Sylvie.
