Page 10 of From You to Me

And beep. That bitch hung up on me.

Well, that was another dud. Everyone I called told me that they wouldn’t be needing me anymore. And the housekeeping company wasn’t much help either. They said they had no openings at the moment for me, but they would call if anything came up.

I sighed, sinking down on a park bench in Central Park with a five-dollar taco from the food truck; my glamorous lunch.

The chatter that filled the air gave me a sense of comfort.

A sense of belonging.

Like, somehow, I wasn’t alone.

I chewed on the delicious taco as I watched a child running around playing with her mom. Her tiny pigtails flew from her little sprint, giggling as her mom chased her.

It reminded me of Auntie M.

My heart squeezed, surfacing the buried pain.

I missed her so, so much. Life would have been so much easier if she was still with me. I was still so angry with the universe for taking her away from me.

This month was going to be a nightmare. A secret place in my heart wished that Jay would keep me around for a lot longer.Even though he treated me like shit, I would do anything to see his beautiful face every day.

But no, if I had everything I wished for, I would have been a happy, happy girl now. But I was one of the saddest souls barely alive in New York City.

I limped through the subway later that evening to head back home. I stayed at the park for hours, doing what I loved the most.

People watching.

It was early fall in NYC. The leaves were just starting to dry up, and the air had gotten colder, which I loved because the summer was brutal.

“How’s my little girl doing?” I cooed, plopping onto the couch, and Strawberry was all over me in a second. Giving me the cutest barks as I cuddled with her. I scratched her behind the ear in a spot that made her sigh happily.

“Mommy is going to take a shower, then we’ll eat, okay?”

She barked as if she understood what I was talking about.

After the hottest shower that did wonders for my sore body, I slipped on Jay’s old T-shirt and settled on the couch. Strawberry and I scarfed down our meal while some mindless TV show ran in the background.

My mind drifted back tohim. As always, I didn’t know how to forget him. And I have tried so hard, but it was impossible now that he was back in my life. All of it rushed back to me as if it were only yesterday when I saw him in the hallway of Bellevue High.

I placed two bags of ice on my knee and popped two pain pills as I started my nightly routine.

Writing. When I wasn’t working, I was writing.

How pathetic was my social life? I still had a text from Marcus that I hadn’t answered yet. The text he sent a couple of days ago asking me out on a date.

Marcus was Rory’s friend (Gabe’s boyfriend). I met him during one of Gabe’s notorious social gatherings that he hosted almost every month. Gabe wanted to be an event planner, so he loved putting something together all the time. He was also like me, trying to make ends meet with a job that paid our bills while we chased our dreams the rest of the time.

Marcus was a manager at an exclusive club here in NYC called The Box. White-collared, blond, a perfect gentleman—the exact opposite of someone I knew. The entire time he talked to me that night I was in a whole other world thinking ofhim.

I had been on a few dates over the years, forced by Gabe of course. But they were either monotonous or boring since I had already tasted what heaven was like. I felt guilty for leading them on even though it never went past the first date. I just couldn’t stomach the thought of meeting or talking to someone in a romantic manner. My heart was in the hands of someone who would now willingly crush it into a million little pieces if only he knew that I still loved him.

I sighed in relief as my ancient laptop finally powered up. It was about ten years old; Auntie M got it for me when I started high school. It was in very fragile condition, and I anticipated for it to die any day. I prayed it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

I started typing, and it was like an itch that I had to scratch. The clatter of the keyboard filled the room as the story in my head became a reality. A story I had been typing for the past six years that never seemed to end because I just had too much to say. It was ours—Jay’s and mine. Every single moment that we spent, all the emotions, the pain, the frustration, and the loss we felt, but most of it was about our love written in words, in truth. The only way I knew how. I wrote it all for him. For us. For the cosmic bond of our love. I wanted this story out there because it was sacred and holy to me. In written proof, like an evidential manuscript that would last forever.

The smell of expensive air greeted me as I entered the Blueline. I swear they did something to this building that always made it smell so good. It was one secret that I was so curious to figure out.

I waved at Gabe as I walked in. He was busy talking with Mr. Carlton from the third floor, who was “a pain in the ass,” according to Gabe. He grimaced as he waved back to me.