She grinned as she finished her eggplant salad. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
I rolled my eyes, but I knew that I'd probably end up asking for advice before this whole thing was over. As I'd proven over the past six months, I sucked at relationships, and I wanted to make things work with Julien. The problem was, I didn't know what to do next.
All day Saturday, while Anastascia was shopping for holiday decorations for my place, I sat on the couch and alternated between calling Julien and moping when he didn't pick up. I left more voicemails than a sane person would, stopping only when Anastascia came back.
We spent the night decorating my place to meet her high standards of appropriate Christmas decorations, but despite the fun I was having with my best friend, I couldn't quit thinking about the man I loved.
Things didn't get any better as the week began. I limited myself to a single call and a single text per day and then spent the rest of the day checking my phone. I was unfocused in dance and twisted my ankle, making it painful to even walk, much less rehearse. I taped it up and continued to practice on it until Wednesday when Madam Emilana told me to take the rest of the week off. That was the last thing I needed, more time to think, but she was insistent and I knew she was right. If I didn't rest it now, I could injure it bad enough that it'd impair my ability to dance in the future. Dancers were expected to push themselves, but there was a difference between auditioning, practicing or performing on a bad ankle and forcing exercises that I could put off a week. My recital of The Nutcracker would be the week of Christmas, starting with a Sunday performance. I had to be in top shape then.
I wanted to work extra hours since I didn't have class, but my boss saw me limping as well and would've sent me home too if I hadn't told him that I needed the money. As it was, he hovered over me so much that it was almost worse than not being able to dance. He did let me pick up some extra hours on Friday, but that was only after Cecily called off. We couldn't handle our busiest night with just one waitress. He needed me and I was glad for the work.
Anastascia wasn't any help, but only because I didn't tell her about my futile attempts to make contact. I let her assume that I was giving him room to grieve, and I tried to convince myself of that too… that Julien was just mourning and didn't want to share his grief. I didn't let myself remember how he'd said he hated his dad. To me, that should have made things easier for him to handle, but I didn't understand that part of his situation. I'd loved my mother and her loss was still a gaping hole in my life.
I spent most of the day Saturday on the couch, my foot propped up and on ice. I'd overdone it the night before at work and knew if I didn't stay off it and let it heal, I risked permanent injury. If I wasn't careful, I'd lose my spot in The Nutcracker and worse, the opportunity it presented.
It was the end of the second week in December. The city was full of lights and decorations. Christmas music was playing everywhere that had speakers. People were shopping, their arms full of brightly-colored packages.
I had a Christmas tree up and lights all around the living room thanks to Anastascia. This was my favorite time of year and I should have been thrilled to be spending it in my own place. It'd be the first Christmas I'd have off since before I went to Vegas, and before that, I'd spent the previous three Christmases in the hospital with my mom. But I couldn't find enjoyment in the decorations or even the specials I spent the entire day watching. If this kept going on, my first Christmas back in Philadelphia was going to turn out to be worse than Thanksgiving.
Then, finally, Sunday morning, he picked up his phone. Instantly, I could tell something wasn't right. It wasn't just the normal sadness that came from the loss of a parent. He sounded distant.
“I was wondering how you were doing.” I started there because it was the truth. I was worried about him. I knew how rough it was to lose a parent and how easy it was to just shut people out. If I hadn't had Anastascia when my mom had died, I didn't know what I would've done.
“Keeping busy.” His voice was flat. He didn't sound angry with me or cold or anything like that, but he also didn't have his usual warmth.
“That's good.” I tried another tact. I really didn't want to have this confession over the phone, especially since we were going to have to deal with what had happened between us the night his dad had died. “I was wondering if you'd like to get a cup of coffee tomorrow morning.”
I heard the hesitation, and then Julien spoke, “I'm busy tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I tried not to sound hurt. “What about Tuesday? Or whenever you're free next.”
“Yeah, Piper, thing is, I don't know when I'll have some free time. I've been super busy lately.”
I felt tears sting at my eyes and was thankful Anastascia was in the shower. I didn't want her to see me like this. I was pushing too hard, being too clingy. With everything Julien had been through, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he wanted some space.
“Look, I have to go.” Julien sounded uncomfortable. “I'll talk to you later.”
The call ended before I got anything else out. I stared at my phone, unable to believe the way the conversation had gone. Anger cut through everything else. I understand being busy or distracted, but not even giving me a chance to say good-bye? That was rude, and totally unlike Julien.
I dialed him back, debating between calling him out on it and point-blank asking him what was wrong.
I didn't get to do either. This time, the call didn't ring and ring until it automatically went to voicemail. It barely got one ring in before the familiar robotic voice was asking me to leave a message. Julien had deliberately sent my call to voicemail. He didn't want to talk to me.
The tears spilled over as hurt overcame my anger. I didn't understand. I thought he'd cared about me and now he was treating me like I'd been some one-night stand. Horror washed over me. Was it possible that's what he considered me? He'd said what we'd done had been a mistake, but I'd taken that to mean that he didn't want to ruin our friendship. I hadn't even considered that was his way of telling me he'd gotten what he'd wanted and was finished.
“Piper?” Anastascia sat next to me but I didn't look up at her. “What happened? Is it your ankle?”
I shook my head. “My ankle's fine.” That, at least, was mostly true. With yesterday's rest and some anti-inflamatories, it was almost back to normal. That should've made me happy, but this thing with Julien made that impossible.
“You finally reached Julien,” she said. “What happened?”
I quickly repeated the conversation. Considering how short it had been, it didn't take long. Then, I finally gave voice to my concerns. “Because of what happened with Reed and Brock, did he think I'd be easy and then once he'd fucked me, he didn't want me anymore? I mean, it wasn't like we made promises to each other, but I thought for sure he cared about me.”
“I thought so too.” Anastascia frowned. “The way that boy was looking at you when he thought you weren't looking. It was clear as day.”
“So what happened?” My cheeks flushed as a possibility occurred to me. “Was I bad in bed?”
“Hon, from what you told me, I don't think that was the case.” She put her hand on my shoulder.
“Then what is it?” I sniffled. “Do I just attract assholes or something?” I rubbed at my eyes. “It makes sense, I guess. I mean, look at what I spent the last two years doing.”
“No,” Anastascia said firmly. “You are not doing that. Reed and Brock were mistakes, and Reed even ended up apologizing for the way he behaved.”
She had a point, but I couldn't completely agree. I had no idea how Reed was going to deal with the fact that I didn't want to try things with him. I'd been too chicken to call him yet.
“I've seen you with Julien and heard the way you two talked to each other. He's been into you from moment one.”
“What?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Honey, guys don't deck their best friends for how they treated a woman unless they care about that woman.” She shrugged. “Or at least the ones I've seen don't. You two have been friends, but the only thing that's kept him from trying to make it something more is how skittish you've been.” She pursed her lips. “And, it didn’t help that you've been pining over Reed this whole time.”
I couldn't argue with her there.
“Something had to have happened.”
“Something did,” I reminded her. “His dad died and then we fucked.”
She shook her head. “That's not it.”
“He said it was a mistake the next morning.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “That's just boy talk for being freaked out.” Her eyes widened. “Shit. How long after Reed left did Julien come downstairs?”
“A couple minutes. Why?” I gave her a puzzled look.
She raised her finger, like she was Sherlock solving a mystery. “Julien heard Reed say he was getting divorced and that he wanted you back.”
“And…” I prompted, but realized I already knew what she was going to say.
“So, he hears that the man you've been in love with since you were a teenager is leaving his wife to be with you. I'll bet he thought you'd slept with him in the heat of the moment because you felt sorry for him but that you really wanted to be with Reed.”