Nerd Girl(125)

“Wow … this is awkward,” Anna mumbled under her breath.

It was 9:30 in the morning, so they must’ve come from Ryan’s home, together. I tried to wipe images of their morning out of my mind.

Even though Catherine was sick, she still looked fabulous. In the cool October weather, she was bundled in cream cashmere sweater which she wore over body hugging skinny jeans, her beautiful, long blond hair cascading over her shoulders. Without thinking, I automatically touched one hand up to my hair, reminding myself that my long brown hair was no longer there. It made me feel that much more awkward and self-conscious.

“He’s coming over here,” Anna whispered.

Before I could turn my head, Ryan was standing next to our table. I glanced up at him slowly and just a little anxiously. He gazed at me with what I thought were my mirrored emotions. Inside, I felt so happy to see him but I had to restrain myself from jumping up and hugging him. At the same time, seeing him brought me instant sadness and pain. He looked heartbreakingly beautiful and I ached to touch him. Looking at him made me feel like my heart was breaking all over again.

“Hi, Julia,” he said softly. He nodded to Anna to acknowledge her presence.

Anna responded by giving him her death glare.

“How are you?” he asked, ignoring Anna and refocusing on me.

“Good,” I replied, overly cheerful. The pitch of my voice sounded too high.

There was a short awkward silence.

“I noticed you weren’t in the GAL anymore. Did you leave MS?” he asked almost accusingly.

I was surprised that Catherine hadn’t mentioned anything to him about my farewell email. I wondered if he had tried to email me at some point. If so, his email would’ve been returned undeliverable.

He had his Mad Men black framed glasses on, but he looked tired and I could see faint dark circles under his eyes. I could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well. I wondered if I looked the same. I hadn’t paid much attention in the mirror lately. He wore jeans and a long sleeve shirt the same blue as his eyes, which only intensified his already piercing gaze when he looked at me.

“Yeah, I did.” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “I decided it was best considering the circumstances.”

His eyes grew inquisitive, encouraging me to continue.

“I got a contract with IT.” So you really shouldn’t worry about me. Why did I feel the need to make him feel better?

“Which company?”

“My own,” I said proudly with a little smile. “Hayes Consulting.” This momentarily brought about flashbacks of our weekend in the San Juans and our almost naked cooking session when I had shared with my plans to start my own consulting company.

A warm and genuine smile spread across his face. He took my breath away. “That’s really great, Julia. Congratulations. I’m glad you decided to do that.” There was more awkward silence before he added, “You changed your hair.” His hand lifted slightly and then twitched, as if he were about to reach out and touch it, but then stopped himself. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Feeling self-conscious, I touched my short locks and tucked a loose strand behind my ear. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

He was doing that thing again where I could tell he was thinking about what to say, but unsure about what to verbalize. His expression went from uncertainty to resignation to overwhelming sadness. Looking at him was painful and my eyes started welling up. I had to look away and I found myself staring at Catherine in the distance.

“So, how is Catherine doing?” I asked as I watched at her waiting by the cash register.

“She starts chemo next week.”

“Oh.” That’s why her hair still looked so beautiful. I instantly felt guilty. I was a horrible person.

“But she’s got a strong and positive attitude about it all,” he said with reverence and subtle pride.

Catherine chose that moment to walk over. “Hi, Julia,” she said cautiously.

“How are you, Catherine?” It was more an inquiry about her health than anything else.

“I’ve been better,” she said almost lightheartedly and even chuckled to herself. “But I’m feeling pretty good, really.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” And I was. No matter what pain and hurt lay between Ryan and me, it didn’t compare to what Catherine was going through. Whatever comfort she could find in her long journey towards better health, I really, truly wanted for her. I struggled daily not to be bitter about how her condition impacted my personal life, but it was never about wishing ill thoughts for Catherine and her health. It was just a shitty situation. Dealing with it was my problem now, not hers.