Maybe Maby Read online

  At 6’ 3”, Saul towers over my 5’ 3”. My mom loved him and said he was brawny. She always wanted to know when I’d bring that lumberjack over again. He’s been known to haul me over his shoulder to throw me in the pool or to lift me up where I can see Maroon 5 in Central Park. He’s close friends with my ex-boyfriend, and for a while there we became a little too good of friends.

  But I’ll think about that later. Right now, I cannot be late to this meeting.

  “It’s good to see you, but you caught me off guard. What are you doing here?” I repeat.

  “Set some mouse traps up there and Anna asked me to work on the new shop in Soho. I’ve drawn up plans that I’ll be showing today.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were doing the work—that’s great!”

  Anna comes in the back door and goes flying by us. She pokes her head back in the door. “You guys gonna stand there all day or what?” She scowls at us and then goes in the room.

  “Why were we ever friends with her again?” Saul asks, laughing.

  “Because of Joey,” I whisper.

  “Oh that’s right … I never see him anymore though. Anna keeps the whip after him at home and he’s working like a dog.” He points to the door. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble,” he whispers as we walk into the meeting.

  I smile as I sit down, feeling a little lighter from seeing Saul again. I’ve missed him. I have a hard time paying attention to Anna. Toward the end of the meeting, he shows the plans and everyone is really impressed with his ideas. The shop will be twice the size of this one and will have more room for offices too. It has unique alcoves and playful nooks that will make it stand apart from other shops. I get tired just looking at all of the space, but a bit inspired too. Maybe I can hold off on my job search for a little longer.

  When the meeting is over, I’m shocked that I haven’t taken a single note. This is so unlike me that I sit there stunned for a moment as everyone leaves the room.

  “You okay, Maby?” Saul stands in front of me, looking amused.

  I nod.

  “Would you like to grab some lunch?” he asks.

  “It’s only 10:28,” I tell him.

  “Oh, wow. Well, I’m hungry. Breakfast?”

  “You’re always hungry.” I laugh. “I have a lot to do here, but it was really good to see you, Saul.”

  “Come on, it’s been such a long time. Just come grab coffee with me. Twenty minutes, across the street?”

  I look at my clock again.

  “You can set your timer and when it goes off, I will disappear,” he promises. “C’mon, Maby.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “You’re still the only one I allow to call me that.”

  His eyes get lost in his smile. I’ve always loved that about his eyes and his smile.

  I want to go, but I don’t want to get out of my routine and be weird. Still … I really want to talk to him.

  “Maybe. If I promise Anna a coffee cocktail, she’ll be fine with it. Okay, but 20 minutes, that’s it.”

  “Maby.” He crosses his heart and pulls my chair out. I gather my things and take them to my desk. He doesn’t say a word as I go through my little rituals.

  He studies my fingers doing their thing with the ribbing on my skirt as we walk to the coffee shop.

  “How many steps from this door to that corner?” He points to the closest intersection.

  “Fifty-seven,” I answer automatically.

  “Have you stopped taking the meds?”

  “Yeah,” I say softly.

  “Why, Maby?” He rubs my shoulders, getting right to the knots that are on either side of my shoulder blades.

  “Dalton didn’t want me on them.” We step inside the shop and I pick up a bottled water.

  “That’s all you’re getting?” He gives me a look and I shrug.

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  It might be the first time in a year that I’ve said that and meant it. I’ve wanted to eat everything in sight for a while now.

  “Well, don’t waste away on me.”

  “Oh please, I know you’ve seen my fluff. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

  “You look great,” he says. “Your boobs are a little bigger than I remembered, though.” He frowns when he says it, so I’m not sure if he thinks that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  I snort and turn all shades of lilac. Finally, a lilac girl.

  We sit down with my water and his breakfast sandwich and grande coffee. I’ll order Anna’s coffee before we go.

  “Have you seen Dalton lately?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “How is he?”

  “I haven’t seen him either.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  He shrugs. “We had a parting of the ways. It’s been a while.”

  When I realize he isn’t going to say more than that, I nod. “Okay. I’m surprised. You seemed determined to keep that friendship…” I trail off, remembering the guilt he’d had over kissing me.

  “I was … and I just didn’t want to do the wrong thing.” He avoids looking at me.

  My heart starts pounding and I get panicky when I realize my eyes are welling up with tears. Please don’t do this now, I think. The tears spill over onto my cheeks. Once again my body has betrayed my mind.

  “Maby, what is it?” he asks, alarmed.

  I shake my head, not willing to talk until I can do it without a warble. It takes a minute.

  “I’ve just missed you. You were my friend. We talked every day. And then nothing…” My voice gets shakier and shakier, so I stop.

  He puts his elbows on the table and his hands on the top of his head.

  “I’ve missed you too. I just … I couldn’t do that to Dalton. And you were vulnerable. I knew it was not … I had to just step back. You were with him.”

  I bite my lip and try to bite down the bitterness too.

  “Your 20 minutes are up,” I tell him and walk out without remembering Anna’s coffee.

  Of course, I have to go back after he’s gone and buy it.

  THINGS GO FROM bad to worse when I get back to work. I hold it together long enough to get there and then crumble when I get behind the counter. I weigh out what will affect me more: stay here and have a full-fledged panic attack, or try to breathe through it and get work done so I won’t have another worse one tomorrow when I come in to extra work.

  My hands tremble and I don’t analyze any longer. I find Anna. She’s at her desk with spreadsheets out and starts talking before she looks up.

  “Our numbers are great this month, Mabel. I think these are gonna be huge.” She holds up the new line of burlap accessories. “Don’t you think?” She looks up when I don’t answer.

  “I’m not feeling well.” My hands shake and my eyes fill with tears.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I can work the floor. Want to go through the orders for this company?” She holds up the catalog and waves it.

  “I need to go home, Anna. I’m gonna be sick.” When I say it, it’s as if the words confirm my lie. My stomach twists and I turn around and run to the restroom. I don’t throw up, but wish I could as sweat drips from every pore. When I get a little relief, I go get my coat and purse and give Anna a little wave. She’s with a customer and barely acknowledges me, but I know she saw me. She’s been fairly understanding with me, although I always work overtime and do extra to make up for times like this. I don’t know why I think I could ever get another job anywhere else.

  This time on the subway, I find two empty seats and hope that no one will sit by me. At my stop, I get off and instead of walking home, I walk to the hospital that’s not far from my apartment. I get stuck on a certain part of the sidewalk and have to circle back and walk it again. And again. And again. And the fourth time, I hear my name called.

  “Mabel? Is that you?”

  I groan inside, not wanting to see anyone I know when I’m like this … which is why I haven’t seen anyone in a long time.

  I loo
k up and my ex-boyfriend, Dalton, is looking at me with a tight smile and a little bit of concern.

  Shit.

  “I thought that was you,” he says. “You coming to visit me?” He laughs and gives me a big hug, holding me just a touch too long.

  Dalton is the last person I wanted to run into today. Or really, ever. I have avoided coming near the hospital because of him, but my therapist also works closeby.

  “I wasn’t thinking about it. Are you still working a ton?”

  He rubs his eyes and I notice how exhausted he looks.

  “I can’t keep the hours straight anymore. I don’t know whether I’m going or coming. You okay?” he asks.

  “I’m having a … rough stretch.”

  “I wish I could help you. How can I help?”

  He looks so sad, I almost feel sorry for him. I quickly remember all the hurt and try to squash it down while I’m standing in front of him.

  “You look so tired,” I say. “Are you done with your shift? You need to go to bed.”

  He groans. “You didn’t answer my question. What’s going on with you?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Go home and go to bed.”

  “Okay, pretty girl. Come here.” He holds his hands out and hugs me again. “You look so good,” he says, skimming his hands down the side of my skirt. “We need to get together soon. It’s been forever.”

  “It has! Take care.” I wave and walk away, feeling even more unsettled. There’s no way in hell I’m getting sucked in by him again.

  IT TAKES WAY longer to get inside my apartment than it should. I mentally berate myself for not just going into the office while I was right there and making an appointment with Dr. Still. It’s possible she would have given me a prescription right then, before even having an appointment. She would want to know why it’s been so long since I’ve been there and I don’t have a good answer.

  I can’t tell her I’ve been doing good just to leave the house to go to work.

  Dalton left a year ago. He wanted me to stop being this way. Just stop already. Don’t do it. Quit. Don’t be so silly, Mabel, you can stop this whenever you want.

  At that point I hadn’t started the hand-washing thing, secretly proud and relieved of the fact that I wasn’t that bad off. A little harmless counting never hurt anyone. The problem was I couldn’t stop counting.

  He made me start seeing Dr. Still and she actually helped me. The medicine helped and talking to her helped, but Dalton had the power to undo it all.

  A COUPLE OF hours and a half bottle of wine later, I have a perfectly arranged closet. It was already in good shape, but now it’s much better. As soon as I’m able, I’ll take the giveaway bags to Goodwill and throw away the garbage, but first I have to do the kitchen cabinets.

  I’m shocked when I look at the clock again and it’s midnight.

  I check my phone and have 3 texts from Dalton. It’s been a while since he’s texted me.

  Dalton: It was great 2 see u. Let’s have lunch sometime and catch up more. Were u ok?

  A couple hours later…

  Dalton: In case no one told u today, u looked really hot.

  And a couple hours after that…

  Dalton: I can’t do this, Mabel. We’re working non-stop. Both me and Courtney. We never have sex anymore. She’s mad all the time. I never sleep. I can’t do it.

  I can’t help myself and type back: I wish I could say I give a shit, but I don’t. You have some nerve, asshole.

  I hate it when people don’t spell things out for the actual word. What’s so hard about typing a couple extra letters? I used to love Dalton so much that I ignored my inner eye roll over this issue. But not now. Moron.

  He’s always been complimentary, so it amuses me more than concerns me that he told me I’m hot. He’s prettier than most women, so it gives me a little boost that he thinks I looked nice today. The thought of Courtney finding out that he just shared that little tidbit gives me a little charge, I’m not gonna lie.

  I think about how much he’s changed since all the stress. I barely recognize the Dalton I used to know. It’s hard to see. I wonder if he feels that way about me.

  I fall asleep reading and have an intense dream about him. He’s doing crazy things to my body and I wake up feeling very satisfied. You know the kind of dream where it actually happens? Yeah, that happened.

  However, I’m so mortified, I can hardly look at myself in the mirror.

  I CALL ANNA the next morning and tell her I’m sick. She sounds skeptical but doesn’t press the matter. I promise her that I’ll make it up to her.

  It was just a dream, I tell myself. Dalton never responded to my last text. Hopefully that took care of that. He’ll just have to deal with this one on his own.

  I work on the hall closet and then my desk. My apartment is so small, I can’t believe I still find things to organize in here, but I do. More bags accumulate against the wall by the door.

  Growing up, we lived with my grandmother. She was a hoarder. I don’t know if that’s why I’m the opposite—I’d rather have a bare house with nothing out, than piles of Time Magazines in every corner, or every single shoe I’ve ever owned. Some of my earliest memories are of organizing her things. She was embarrassed by the condition of her house and as long as I didn’t throw anything away, she let me make it presentable. Or at least as presentable as possible with junk.

  She was a seamstress and could never, ever find her scissors. My mom teased her about it and laughed it off, but I was the one usually sent to find them. I determined in my young, naive brain that I would always have a particular place for everything, and everything would stay in its place. Scissors are the one thing I make an exception for semi-hoarding—I have 2 pairs in every room.

  My phone starts buzzing.

  Dalton: You have every right to be angry with me. Just let me know u r ok.

  I text him back. I’m fine. Hope you start sleeping soon.

  Dalton: Are u sure? I care about u and haven’t shown it enough.

  I’ll be fine.

  Dalton: I just wish I’d kissed u.

  Where did that come from?

  Dalton: Haven’t you ever wondered what it would have been like if we’d stayed together?

  I don’t answer that one.

  Dalton: It would have been a good kiss.

  You can’t talk to me like this. I had a dream about you last night and I am not up for this right now.

  Dalton: You dreamed about me??? Tell me everything! I want you so bad…

  No! Why did I ever open my mouth? I stare at my phone and turn the sound off. I try to wipe the dream from my mind, but it keeps replaying and my body grows warm all over. I haven’t had sex in a year and the year before that I was on antidepressants. Enough said. I’m ashamed to say that my hormones are peeking out from their long stint of hiding and rearing their ugly head.

  Fortunately, my brain kicks in and I rein in my speeding heart. It’s only the thrill of doing something naughty, nothing else.

  I look down at the phone and there’s another one from him.

  Dalton: I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. But it’s true.

  No, you shouldn’t have said that. How long have you … felt that way?

  Dalton: Always. I love Courtney. I do. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you…

  You chose Courtney.

  Dalton: I just think about you a lot.

  Hmm, well you should probably think about your girlfriend.

  Dalton: You’re right. I’m sorry.

  My phone is quiet for a few minutes and then…

  Dalton: I still remember the way your ass looked in that one red dress you used to wear. Damn perfection.

  Oh my word. Stop!

  Dalton: Just give me a peek. Let me see you. I miss you like crazy.

  No way.

  But I can’t help it, I’m laughing. It’s been a long time since I’ve really laughed. When I think about this being Dalton … I can’t believe he’s do
ing this. Part of me feels wrong since he’s in a relationship, and the other part feels justified—he was mine first. Instead of being completely angry with him, I can’t stop laughing. What’s wrong with me? I’m losing my mind.

  Dalton: Just one. It will be fun.

  No.

  AVOIDING STARING AT my phone is what finally forces me to go outside. First I make 3 trips to the garbage chute, and then I grab the Goodwill bags and start walking. I lose count around 457 and have to walk all the way back to my apartment building and start over. By the time I get to Goodwill—3,475 steps—I’m sweating and close to tears. My arms hurt from carrying the bags and I gladly hand them over to the guy who takes donations.

  La Colombe coffee shop is close, so I stop in there, order coffee and sit down. My coat is sweltering. I take it off and carefully hang it over the seat next to me.

  Have you ever noticed how the universe seems to have it out for you? Or maybe sometimes it’s trying to help. I’m not sure. I do believe in God, but I also believe there are other spirits contributing, making the universe, as a whole, a very confusing place.

  It’s that weird phenomena of when you really need a pretty dress for something and there are none to be found, but when you absolutely can’t afford one, there’s a variety of fabulousness to choose from…

  Or when I haven’t had male attention in a solid year and in the last couple of days, there’s suddenly Saul and Dalton handing out extra. Even Coen the cute barista at La Colombe gives me a little wink when he writes out my name on the cup.

  “It’s been a few days since you’ve been in here. You know the place isn’t the same without you,” he says.