As I turned on the television and wrapped myself in a warm blanket on the couch, the angry growl of my stomach reminded me that all I’d had today was copious amounts of coffee. I had little food in the house, so I ordered in. It was easier than cooking for one, and I didn’t have to talk to anyone because I could do it all online.
I placed an order at a local bistro for my favorite charcuterie board. Sure, it was equivalent to an overpriced adult Lunchables, but I loved all the different meats and cheeses, and it seemed like a better option than fast food. The older I got, the more inclined I was to be healthy.
When I was younger, I didn’t worry about what I put into my body. I had many vices that stemmed from not giving a fuck and Davia. I didn’t blame her for my choices, but she loved to party, and I loved her, so I found myself doing shit I never imagined. Getting drunk and high were her normal activities, and eventually, they were a part of my routine.
It didn’t help that my job put me in strange situations, and I became reliant on something outside of myself to calm my nerves, which usually involved alcohol or weed. But when Davia and I split and I realized how much money I had spent and how many days I had lost due to blackouts or memory loss, I didn’t want that life anymore. Besides, if I went to my old haunts, I would inevitably run into Davia, and she was the last person I wanted to see.
I enjoyed seeing her in my mind when I needed a release, but it was a hard pass in real life. Davia was like a painting: visually captivating, yet lacking depth that could engage more than your eyes. I thought I loved her, but it was more of a superficial infatuation that lasted five years longer than it should have. Most of the impractical things I owned today were to impress her.
She told me I could be a star if I lived like one, and I believed her. I thought she had my best interests in mind and was supporting me. I didn’t realize she wanted me to rise to the top and bring her with me. Not out of love for me, but out of selfishness. She thought I could help her earn money just by being beautiful. She didn’t need me to tell people she was gorgeous. Anyone with eyes could see that.
It wasn’t about how she looked but about who she knew, and I had the connections she needed. Once she made a name for herself, I became redundant, and she was gone. I continued to see her face everywhere, which used to hurt when she first left. But I have healed somewhat, and now I passive-aggressively thought about fucking her. Maybe that wasn’t healthy, but it had to be better than being hurt or angry.
It wasn’t like I wanted her back, but I also didn’t want anyone else, so it seemed like a justified response.
When I heard a tap on the door, I waited a few minutes to ensure they were gone before I retrieved my food. I had told them no contact on the app, but sometimes they would linger, so I learned not to rush to get it.
That sounded like I hated everyone, which wasn’t exactly true. I could only have my people persona for so long, and I used that all up for work. Being off was my only time to recharge, and I had to do that alone.
After I grabbed the takeout, I started to text Matrix to let him know about the change in plans, but before I could message him, someone sent me something first.
Shorty: Sorry about earlier. I would like to reschedule if you’re down. I got cold feet, but I’m feeling better now.
The excuse sounded weak, and it didn’t seem sincere.
Me: You stood me up. How do I know you’re not playing games?
Shorty: I didn’t stand you up. I just didn’t properly introduce myself.
Was that an implication that she was the girl I had spoken with? My suspicions were high.
Me: Video call me.
At least this way, I wouldn’t have to get out of my house, and I’d be able to tell if she was lying.
Shorty: Now?
Me: Yes.
I saw the dots move about, then stop, then start again. What was so hard about this request? It was one button she had to push.
Me: Never mind. I’m done. Good luck to you.
Shorty: Wait!
A heavy sigh filled with frustration escaped my lips. My phone rang as I put a piece of brie in my mouth. Shit. It was her. I didn’t think this through. I was in PJs, but I shouldn't look too unprofessional if I swallowed my food and kept the video on my face.
“Hello.” I eyed the screen to see a beautiful blonde staring back at me.
“Hey, I’m sorry about the mix-up earlier. I’m Sonya.” She was confident and not afraid to show off her body in that teeny, tiny, tight shirt.
I didn’t remember Shorty being Sonya, but it made sense.
“It’s okay. Care to tell me why you lied to me?” She had made me look stupid chatting up someone else by not telling me what she was actually wearing.
She pointed to herself. “No, I didn’t lie. Technically, I pretended to be someone else, but that wasn’t lying.”
Did she not know the definition of the word? What was she playing?
“That makes no sense. Are you Shorty or not?” I was too old and tired for these games.
“Yes and no.” She moved her head from side to side, and I glared, hoping for a solid answer.
“Give me that.” Someone else took the phone, and the woman in the gray shirt appeared. Her eyes were wide, like she was frightened, but there was an edge in her voice that sounded like anger. “I’m sorry for my cousin. She set up this meeting but didn’t tell me. So when you showed up at my table, I didn’t know who you were or what you wanted.” She offered a half-smile, and I noticed the slightest dimple in the corner of her mouth, making her seem even more innocent.
“So, you’re Shorty?” I needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
“No. I mean, I guess.” She narrowed her eyes to someone off-camera, probably the blonde. “I’m Shiloh, and my cousin was trying to be helpful in her own way, but sometimes she misses the mark.”
Matrix could be like that, too, but I wasn’t sure he was technically trying to help as much as mitigate situations that my big mouth got me into.
“Well, I’m Caz, and I host a show called My Unscripted Life. The audience voted for me to be your flight attendant.” As much as I wanted to get out of this situation, it wouldn't be so bad if this was her energy all the time.
There was something relaxing about her. She was poised but quiet. Usually, people caused me anxiety, but everything about her, from the muted color of her hair and wardrobe to the tone of her voice, was calming.
“Yeah, Sonya filled me in. I’m not looking to hook up with anyone, so this probably won’t be good for the show. But I appreciate your time. I wish you luck with helping someone else.” Her words took me by surprise, but not as much as my own did.
“I’m only doing this if you’re in. If not, I’m canceling the segment this week.”
