Louder Than Words (12 page)

You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been focusing on me for the past four years, and I’ve been miserable. Now I’m actually happy, except for the last fifteen minutes. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me
. So much for dignity. The tears won out and poured in rivers down my cheeks, making damp polka dots on the quilt.
Please don’t leave me
.

Ignoring my tears and silent pleas, Ben stood and walked slowly to my bedroom door, not turning around as he opened it. He paused in the doorway. “I’m really sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to jerk you around. I should have controlled myself better. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Never
.

I looked around for something to throw at him, but he was gone before I could grab a book from my nightstand. How could I hate him at the same time I was falling in love with him? More than anything I wanted to run after him and throw my arms around him, make him finish the story he had started to write with me. I hoped he didn’t hear that, although of course he had, and I could almost see his Mona Lisa smile as I heard the front door slam.

“Sasha, some flowers were just delivered for you. Come see.”

Flowers? The only person who might have sent me flowers on Valentine’s Day had conveniently dumped me two days earlier. Charlotte must be mistaken. Sasha Black wasn’t such an unusual name. The delivery guy had obviously come to the wrong house.

An enormous wicker basket sat on the kitchen counter, filled with an arrangement that could only have been put together by a blind florist. There were at least a dozen different kinds of flowers, in every color of the rainbow, vying for attention in a bed of moss. In its own way it was beautiful, and it certainly reflected the chaos that was going on inside me, but it was definitely not your typical Valentine’s Day offering—no long-stemmed roses and baby’s breath. At least he cared enough to send flowers, and he definitely had a sense of humor. The card said,
A mess of flowers for a hot mess. Get to work. I’m waiting
. There was no signature, but it was obvious. He was as subtle as a sledgehammer. I quickly stuffed the note in my pocket.

Charlotte was barely able to contain herself. “Is it from Ben? What does the card say? I’ve never seen anything quite like that. Whoever sent that has very unusual taste, I must say.”

“UNUSUAL IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. AND THEY ARE FROM HIM, BUT WE’RE TAKING A BREAK. I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU BEFORE.”

“A break? You just started going out, and he really seemed to like you. I thought you had a wonderful time in the City. Did something happen?”

Charlotte’s indignation on my behalf was slightly comforting, although I sometimes wondered if she was a little too invested in my emotional well-being and social development. Becoming my default mother when she had no prior experience must have been terrifying, but I think she occasionally took her role a little too seriously. Not only was I miserable for myself, but now I felt like I was letting Charlotte down. It was too much pressure.

“APPARENTLY MY NOT TALKING WAS MORE OF A PROBLEM FOR HIM THAN HE THOUGHT. HE SAID HE’D COME BACK WHEN I GET MY VOICE BACK, WHICH WILL PROBABLY BE NEVER.”

As disappointed as I knew she was, it was a relief to finally tell Charlotte. Her vicarious thrill over my shiny new love life was hard to take even when things were going well, and in the two days since the breakup, I’d been lying to her whenever she asked about Ben, which was all the time. At least I could stop pretending I was happy.

“You poor baby. I really thought Ben was different. He seemed to have the maturity to handle your little problem. Do you want me to talk to him?”

Typical of Charlotte to characterize more than four years of psycho silence as nothing more than a little problem. And even more typical of Charlotte to believe that she could solve the problem by intervening on my behalf. She was a lawyer to her very core—a settlement conference with the opposition was all that was needed to bring the two sides together.

“Talk to whom?” Stuart grabbed his travel coffee mug off the counter. “Char, we’re going to miss the train. Get a move on.” Charlotte didn’t answer, just hugged me, but Stuart wasn’t about to give up so easily. “What’s going on, ladies? Who are you going to talk to, Charlotte? And who sent those crazy flowers? Honey, is there something you want to tell me? Do you have a secret admirer? That idiot at Fitzgerald & Green? The one with the Italian suits and the bad toupee?”

“SHE’S NOT GOING TO TALK TO ANYONE.” I stamped my foot for emphasis.

“Would someone catch me up, please?” Stuart stood, cup in one hand, briefcase in the other, looking back and forth between Charlotte and me, totally baffled.

“Ben broke up with Sasha, and now he sent these strange Valentine’s flowers to her. I thought maybe if I talked to him, I could straighten everything out. He seemed like such a nice boy. So reasonable, so grown up for his age. I’m sure it’s just a simple misunderstanding.” Charlotte’s voice was impatient—she was clearly eager to execute her not-so-well-thought-out plan.

Stuart shook his head and glared at his wife. “Charlotte, Sasha’s not six years old, and Ben is not some boy who put gum in her hair or stole her lunch money. When will you learn that you cannot fix everything by talking it out? Some things just are.”

Thank goodness I had an ally. Not a morning person, Stuart didn’t usually have much to say before he and Charlotte caught their train, but for me he was making an exception, and I was grateful for his support.

“Maybe if I talked to his mother …”

“Don’t you dare. Life is not a broken plate—you can’t just glue it back together. Stay out of it. If this boy is destined to have the unique pleasure of being part of our Sasha’s life, then it will work out that way, and you poking your nose where it doesn’t belong will only make such an outcome impossible. This is one of those situations in which you have to let nature take its course.”

“That’s your opinion, Stuart. I just want to know what happened, and perhaps offer up a dose of common sense. Young people can let their emotions get the best of them, you know.” Hands on her hips, Charlotte wasn’t ready to give up.

“If you were paying attention, you’d see that it’s Sasha’s opinion that you butt out as well.” I nodded vociferously, although it upset me that I was the cause of a rare disagreement between my aunt and uncle. “Mind your own beeswax, Charlotte, and let’s get out of here. We’ve already missed our regular train. Shit, now we’ll have to catch the local.” Stuart held the door open for Charlotte. “Bye, Sash. Love you.”

Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. At least she knew when she was beaten.

“Goodbye, sweetie. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make it all better. You know that. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my big mouth shut. This mothering stuff is much harder than practicing law.”

She kissed me on the forehead and rushed past Stuart as he rolled his eyes in my direction.
Thank you
, I mouthed.

At school, I hoped and dreaded that I would run into Ben. But since he knew where I was at all times, it was up to him to either seek me out or avoid me. When the last bell rang, it was clear that he didn’t want to see me. Head down, I trudged through the crowd of happy normals. My brief foray into the world of light, guided by Ben, was over, and now I returned to my home in the shadows. Now that I’d tasted the good life, mine seemed that much more drab and pointless. Damn him.

“You look like shit.” Jules fell into step beside me. “What’s wrong?”

I stopped and dug my Hawkie Talkie out of my backpack. “HE DUMPED ME.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me for the last couple of days? I thought maybe you dumped
me
for
him
. I was giving you a pass since it’s your first time around the block. That’s rough. I’m surprised. He doesn’t look like the type to cut and run. Especially after your big date. It sounded perfect.”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS PERFECT TOO. STUPID ME. BOYS SUCK.”

“How’d he do it? Facebook? Text?” Did the logistics really matter at this point?

“NO, HE’S A GENTLEMAN. HE DID IT IN PERSON.”

I spilled the whole foul anecdote, including how I attacked him and he rejected me. It sounded even more pitiful in the retelling.

“That’s harsh. But what made you think going down on him was the right thing to do?” Jules made a retching noise and stuck out her tongue. I guess that meant she had never attempted it. Why didn’t I talk to her before I decided to get creative?

“I DIDN’T REALLY THINK IT THROUGH. WE WERE ALONE, AND I WANTED TO MAKE HIM FEEL GOOD. THAT WAS ALL. I WASN’T CONSIDERING ALL THE MORAL RAMIFICATIONS.”

“And truthfully, what sane guy would turn that down? Hard to imagine not only refusing, but giving you the ax on top of it. Most guys would drop trou in a heartbeat. He’s definitely an odd one.” But he had been
my
odd one, and I loved him, and now I had fucked it up royally.

“I MISS HIM.”

“It’s kind of funny, actually. Six weeks ago you’d never kissed anyone on the lips, let alone anywhere else. I’d say that’s real progress, even if you’re having a temporary setback.” Jules giggled and poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

“THAT IS SO DISGUSTING, JULES, AND I DON’T THINK IT’S TEMPORARY.”

“Why? From what you told me, Mr. Hands-Off-My-Junk didn’t really break up with you. He just wants you to get your shit together before he commits. Can’t argue with his reasoning.”

“WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?” I had hoped for more sympathy from my best friend.

“I’m on your side, and so is Ben, if you’d bother to listen to what he said.”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS TODAY?” I traced a heart in the air and scowled.

“I have to admit, dumping you—well, sidelining you, really—right before V-day is kind of bad form. Even though he said it wasn’t permanent, his timing was pretty lousy. It’s cold-blooded, I’ll give you that.”

“BEYOND LOUSY. TODAY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY FIRST REAL VALENTINE’S DAY EVER, WITH A REAL LIVE BOYFRIEND. IT’S WORSE THAN IF HE’D NEVER COME NEAR ME.”

Ben had gone from being the most thoughtful guy in the world to the most insensitive. Couldn’t he have waited until after Valentine’s Day? Couldn’t he have given me a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a dozen red roses, and then discarded me?

“Maybe he just forgot the date. I don’t think boys focus on Valentine’s Day the way girls do. It’s really a holiday for us, not for them.”

“DID HE HIRE YOU TO DO PR FOR HIM? YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ANGRY AT HIM, NOT MAKE EXCUSES FOR HIM.”

“You’re right. He’s a no-good, rotten bastard, and you’re well rid of him. Is that better?”

“MUCH. SO HOW DOES HE LOOK? I HAVEN’T SEEN HIM AT SCHOOL AT ALL.” Now that Jules was mouthing the right platitudes, I could ask the important questions.

“He looks good. Still cute, and built. Maybe a little sad, but it’s hard to tell. And not that I want to make you more miserable than you already are, but that model chick from the track team has been sniffing around. I didn’t think it was an issue, because I thought you guys were hard at it.”

“SHE DOES HAVE THE ADVANTAGE. SHE CAN TALK TO HIM. AND SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE SHOULD BE POSING FOR
VOGUE
INSTEAD OF GOING TO HIGH SCHOOL.” I was so fucked, and I’d done it to myself, so it wasn’t like I could wallow in self-pity, which, although useless, was at least a distraction.

“But he likes the way you look, or at least he did, so don’t get so hung up on the beauty queen. Have you tried running into him by accident? Maybe if he sees you, he’ll remember how much he cares.” Jules looked proud of herself for coming up with this ridiculously simple solution.

“HE’S REALLY GOOD AT AVOIDING ME.” I still hadn’t told Jules that Ben knew what I was thinking as I was thinking it, so unless he wanted me to find him, it wasn’t going to happen. “IF HE’D CHANGED HIS MIND, HE COULD JUST COME TO MY HOUSE … OR THE LIBRARY. HE’S DONE WITH ME. IT’S OVER.”

“From what you’ve told me, whether or not it’s really over is up to you, right?” I didn’t answer, just glowered. “He told you that if you found your voice, he’d be waiting with open arms. Isn’t that basically what he said?”

“SURE. I’LL TAKE CARE OF THAT THIS AFTERNOON. EXCEPT FOUR YEARS OF THERAPY DIDN’T HELP, SO MAYBE IT’S NOT SO SIMPLE AS YOU TWO LOSERS THINK IT IS.”

Jules, who had held me up through the worst of it, knew better than anyone how hard I’d worked. And I knew I shouldn’t be so rude to her. If she bailed, I would be completely rudderless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s not easy, but it’s definitely worth it, don’t you think?
He’s
definitely worth it.” Jules flexed her muscles, pointed at her stomach, and then wiggled her tongue lewdly.

She had a point. Just thinking about him made me feel that delicious ache all over. In four years, I had never felt so motivated to get my life back on track.

“MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT. BUT HOW?”

“I have no idea, but we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.”

One of the things I loved most about Jules was her lack of stubbornness in comparison to me. Saying sorry came easy for her, even when she was probably right, and her ability to indulge me while at the same time helping me focus on the big picture had made our fight fizzle before it got too heated.

“YOU WANT TO COME IN? YOU HAVE TO SEE THESE FLOWERS.”

The fragrance of all those blooms filled the house. “It smells like a flower shop in here.”

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.”

Jules buried her face in the basket, taking a deep breath. “It’s perfect.”

“WHY? BECAUSE IT’S A METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE?” I handed Jules the card Ben had sent, now crumpled from having spent the day in my pocket.

“He’s funny. Well, it is, kind of, but don’t you see what he’s done? In the Victorian era, flowers were used to send messages. Every kind of flower had a different meaning. I think he’s sending you a message. That’s totally something he would do, considering he acts like he’s visiting from another century.”

“ARE YOU SURE HE DIDN’T JUST ORDER THE DISCOUNT LEFTOVER BOUQUET?”

“I don’t think so. We already know one thing: he’s definitely not cheap.” Jules opened up Charlotte’s laptop, which was sitting on the counter. “There you are.
FlowerSymbols.com.
Let’s see, what’s in here?”

“GLADIOLAS, PEONIES, PINK TULIPS, WHITE CHRYSANTHEMUMS, IRIS.”

“Okay, glads stand for strength of character, pink tulips are symbols of caring, white mums mean truth, and iris are faith and friendship. You see?”

“MAYBE, BUT NOT TOO ROMANTIC A SELECTION. NOT EXACTLY A LOVE LETTER.”

“What else is there? You’ve only named a few. That looks like a forget-me-not, which symbolizes memories.”

“SUBTLE.”

“I see one red rose, right in the middle, and red roses stand for love, passionate love, so there. It was just a semi-dumping.”

“I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER.”

I was being sarcastic, but in truth, I did feel better. If Ben cared enough to go to the trouble of sending a secret message in flowers, maybe he really meant he would wait around while I got my act together. The only questions now were whether such a thing was possible, and if so, how long would it take?

The next day, I had one of my check-in appointments with Dr. O. Like Charlotte, she was surprised and more than a little upset about the demise of my short-lived love affair.