Page 103 of Worth the Try
And numb is what I need. Numb is necessary. I don’t want the clear-headedness I woke up with. Look where that got me: blurting outI love youto yet another person who doesn’t want it. My body finally let the words out, only it was at the exact wrong time. Because it was too late. Way, way too late.
I pull on my favorite pair of Costco lounge pants and a loose crop top over a lacy black bralette and make my way out of the steamy bathroom. Kari bustles around the kitchen, but I don’t bother her as I beeline for the couch and pull a blanket over me. I grab my phone, forcing myself not to open any of the social media apps or my email. Instead, I open my reading app and attempt to get lost in the historical fiction I usually love to read.
I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, I hear voices coming from the kitchen. After a few moments, I recognize the husky laugh of Allyson and the Australian lilt of Sam. The temptation to throw the blanket over my head and pretend to keep sleeping is strong, but I make myself get up and fold the blanket instead.
Padding into the room, I find all three women chattering away, all smiles and happiness, and it hits me then. How empty I feel. I can’t fathom feeling as light as they seem, as unburdened. It’s no surprise that tears once again spring to my eyes.
Allyson chooses that exact moment to turn and gives me a big smile. “Elodie!” Then she scowls. “Nope. We’re not crying.”
And that, of course, makes me cry.
All three women surround me as I boo-hoo and generally make a mess of myself, but eventually Sam pulls away.
“All right, enough of that,” she scolds playfully. “We were called over for day drinking, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“But first—did you hear back from that whale-watching company?”
“Allyson!” Kari exclaims.
“What?” Allyson asks. “No better way to get her mind off things than to talk about me.”
I can’t help the laugh that comes out even as I grab a paper towel to blow my nose. “Yes, Allyson, I did.”
She wiggles her eyebrows and rubs her hands together. “Ooh, is it gonna work out?”
I nod. “It is.”
Allyson whirls to the counter. “Okay,nowit’s time to drink. Are we starting with straight tequila shots?”
“No,” all three of us respond.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I do know that we impart some serious damage to Kari’s liquor collection and put a hurting on Jake’s DoorDash account. No one remembered who ordered what, but once the delivery driver deposited Taco Bell, at least five different kinds of chips from the convenience store, and an entire cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory on Kari’s front porch, it didn’t matter.
I tell them everything. The way I loved Rosalie from the second I met her, the way Ansel and I slowly fell for each other. How Ansel steadily pulled me out of my “nice girl” shell and told me he loved me, and how I loved him, too, but couldn’t get the words out. And this morning, when he ended it.
In exchange, Allyson spilled all the tea about the team, giving us the gossip on everything from which players the old coach had it out for to which ones were being scouted for moving to Europe. Sam told us how she’d left Melbourne not just to accompany her brother—who honestly doesn’t need his older sister to look after him—but to break free from the monotony that had become her life. Kari simply watched me from across the room, quietly making sure I was okay.
I wasn’t. I’m not.
I don’t know when I will be.
Kari clears her throat and raises her glass of wine. “A toast,” she declares.
We raise our drinks, Allyson and I drinking expensive and delicious tequila, and Sam joining Kari in the wine department.
“Here’s to us. Strong women taking chances, leaping into the unknown, and making ourselves brand new all over again.”
“Here, here,” Sam says, and we toast.
My phone pings as we drink. I pick it up from its spot on the coffee table and open it, half expecting it to be a text from Ansel, and half knowing he’s not sending me squat.
UNKNOWN
Told you not to fuck with me.
I stare at the text as another comes in, then another.
How’s it feel to be a pariah? To be used and discarded just like I was?
