Confessions of an Ex-Girlfriend (21 page)

“You are
not
going to lose Alyssa,” I said, my voice full of determination.

“Alyssa?” He chuckled. “I was talking about Lulu.”

Idiot!
“Right. That's what I meant. Lulu.” I bit my bottom lip. Hard. “Anyway, don't you worry about anything, Richard. You and Alyssa are going to get through this thing. With Lulu. Everything is going to be just fine.”

And when I hung up the phone a few minutes later, I wondered just how fine everything really was going to be.

 

Confession: I have become the other woman.

 

I made it all the way to Monday night without giving in to the urge to call Derrick, which was pretty good considering that Jade was MIA since Saturday and unavailable to talk me out of it. I was worried about what might have happened to her, until I called
Threads
on Monday and learned that she had, in fact, reported in at 10:00 a.m. that morning, before she went out on a shoot. I might have called Alyssa again, but I couldn't bear the thought of knowing Richard might be in the background and in danger of overhearing me blast her. Since she was in court all day today, I would have to wait before I had a chance to tell her just how unspeakably cruel I thought she was for doing what she was doing to Richard.

But by the time Monday night rolled along, I felt entitled to call Derrick. After all, it was now over a week since we had last spoken. And so what if he hadn't called again, aching to talk to me, after that initial realization of how much he missed me? He
had
given me his number right? Maybe he was waiting for
me
to call
him.
And because I was the type who would never let anyone suffer too greatly on my account, I waited until just after midnight, passing the time jotting down lame ideas for that damn proposal on the older bride for Patricia, then carefully dialed his phone number, which, I'll admit, I had already memorized from staring at it so often.

After one ring, I knew I had done the right thing.

At two rings, anticipation filled me.

At the third ring, I started to plot my next move. Leave a message if he's not home? That would put the ball in his court. Not a good idea in my current state of mind.

At the fourth ring I wondered if he had even gotten a machine yet. If he hadn't, he would have no idea I was calling him. Hell, I could ring him all night, unless of course he had caller ID. Unfortunately I had no way of knowing that.

Suddenly a breathless and—God help me—
female
voice came over the line. “Hello?”

“Uh. I, um…I think I have the wrong number?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Derrick Holt?”

“Nope, you've got the right number,” she chirped perkily. “He's not in right now, can I take a message?”

So thrown off was I by this woman—whoever she was—I didn't think about my next best move. I answered dumbly, “Just tell him Emma called.”

“Emma? Does he have your number?”

Yeah, sweetheart. Emblazoned on his brain.
“Yes, he has it.”

“Okay, I'll give him the message.”

“Thanks,” I replied weakly, my head spinning.

“Have a good night,” she said pleasantly, and hung up.

Who was she, dammit? My mind immediately sorted through the possibilities until I settled on the one that hurt the least. The roommate. Relief washed through me. She had to be the roommate. There was no way Derrick could have gotten cozy enough with a new girlfriend this fast, right? Not enough so that she'd get key privileges. Hell, I didn't get a set of Derrick's keys until we were dating a solid six months. And even then I had to demand them.

The roommate. Okay. I could live with that.

Then a new dread filled me. Richard and Alyssa had practically been roommates once.

I called Jade, knowing she was the only one who could talk me out of the terrible turn my thoughts had taken. At the sound of her message, I started to panic. “Where the hell
are
you?” I all but shouted at the sound of the beep.

“Emma?” came Jade's groggy voice as she picked up.

“Oh God, I'm sorry, Jade,” I said, feeling immediately guilty. “Are you sleeping?” I glanced at the clock. It was midnight, after all, though I knew Jade stayed up pretty late most of the time.

“It's all right,” she said.

“Is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah, fine. Just tired.” Then she laughed, the sound rich and satisfied. “I've been on a marathon of sex ever since Saturday night.”

“Saturday night?”

“Yeah, after you got out of the cab, I decided there was no reason I had to be alone. I headed straight over to Enrico's. I didn't get home until a few hours ago.”

“You've been with him the whole time?”

“Well, except for a brief intermission today when I went on a shoot. Otherwise, I've pretty much been in the horizontal.” She laughed throatily. “And the vertical. Did I mention my little Enrico used to be an athlete back in Italy?
Mmmmm,
” she purred.

Apparently Jade had managed to exorcise thoughts of Michael the only way she knew how. With lots of mind-blowing sex. “You must be beat. I'll let you go.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Derrick has a roommate,” I blurted, the memory of the woman's happy little voice filling me with newfound angst.

“So what? You knew that, didn't you?”

“A
female
roommate.”

“Oh.”

“Now all I can think about is him coming home to her every night. Them sharing dinners. Videos. Next thing you know, she's more girlfriend than roommate!”

“Emma—”

“I know what you're going to say, Jade. I should forget about him. After all, he's not my boyfriend anymore. He's not in my life. He has the perfect right to move on.”

“He hasn't moved on, Emma. He just got a roommate.”

“Yeah, well, it's easy enough to fall in love with your roommate.
Look at Richard. He fell in love with Alyssa when she was spending so much time at his apartment.”

“You have to take your mind off this. You are not going to get anywhere with—”

“I
can't
take my mind off it. In fact, it's all I've been able to think about ever since I hung up the damn phone. All I can see is Derrick talking with his roommate, laughing with his roommate, telling his roommate all about his day. His next screenplay idea. His hopes and dreams.” I sighed. “And I'll just be that girl he used to know on the East Coast. I can't bear the thought of…of…becoming an anecdote. A part of his past.” My voice broke. “I still love him, Jade.”

She sighed, and it was one of the saddest sounds I've known to come out of Jade. “I know, honey.” She was silent then, and I knew that space of quiet was filled with understanding. She knew what I was going through. Hell, she suffered from the same ailment.

“You need another guy,” she said finally, her voice full of determination, “someone to take your mind off Derrick. What happened with that guy you met Saturday?”

“Not a peep out of him yet.” A pit formed in my stomach. Maybe I was just not the kind of woman men pined for, chased after, romanced. Apparently I was the kind that drove men away. As in, clear across the country.

“Well, it's too soon anyway,” Jade said. “He didn't look like some desperate geek to me. In the meantime, let me see if Enrico has any friends.”

“No, I don't want to—”

“Emma, sex is the single girl's Prozac. Trust me on this.”

“Forget it, Jade. I'll manage,” I said, then realized that my cupboards were currently bare of anything resembling binge food.

Dear God, how was I going to survive this?

Suddenly my eye fell on a dusty bottle of Baileys Irish Cream, a gift I had gotten last Christmas and had yet to open.

Oh God.

“Do you think I'm an alcoholic?” I asked, eyeing the bottle with dread.

“Whoa. Where did that come from?” Jade said.

“I did drink an awful lot on Saturday. Three or four drinks in as many hours. And then there were those shots Manny bought for us. That's not normal. I could have a problem.”

“Three or four drinks and a few shots of Tequila on a Saturday night only qualifies you for a hangover.”

“But it was almost like I
had
to get drunk in order to…to function.”

“Gimme a break, Emma. You are
not
an alcoholic. I know you think just because your father had a problem—”

“
Has.
My father
has
a problem, Jade,” I cut in. Then, with an exasperated sigh, I confessed all. “He fell off the roof of his house last week. He didn't say so, but I suspect he'd been drinking again.”

“Oh, shit. Is he all right?”

“Beyond a broken shoulder and arm, he's fine. As fine as he'll ever be, anyway. All ready to sue and blame it all on someone else.”

She was quiet again, and during this silence I imagined she was putting it all together—my need for alcohol to carry on a conversation at a party, my father's need for alcohol before he climbed up on top of a house.

“Look, Emma, I'm sorry about what happened to your dad. I really am. But all you're doing is using this incident with your dad to take your mind off Derrick, when I have a much better solution.”

“Sex? Sex is a better solution?”

“It's a healthier one. Good cardiovascular. And not bad for your self-image, either.”

I sighed as I realized I had no desire to have sex again. The whole idea seemed suddenly exhausting. I couldn't even imagine being naked with anyone but Derrick. Then I realized that there was a very strong chance Derrick would soon be getting naked with someone else. “At this rate, I don't think I'll ever have sex again. And least of all with some oversexed twentysomething immigrant boy you might round up for me.”

“Okay, but you don't know what you're missing….”

Oh, I did, I thought. It just had nothing to do with sex. And
everything to do with a certain screenwriter who was on the sure path to happily-ever-after. With someone else.

 

Confession:
I
don't even like me anymore.

 

The next day at work, I struggled to concentrate on the nightmare project I had gotten stuck with all because of my glib comments in the editorial meeting last week. What the hell did I know about the first-time older bride? Heck, I'd be lucky if I even made it to that category, at the rate I was going. Maybe I should be working on a Senior Brides issue. That was more my speed. With a sigh, I tried to picture Patricia, who had married well into her thirties, looking demure while her future husband got down on one knee. But all my mind conjured up was a vision of two people seated at opposite ends of a negotiating table, each armed with lawyers as they carefully negotiated the terms of what they would and wouldn't give to the person they intended to share their life with. Who could blame me? After all, it was common knowledge around the office that Patricia herself had devised a pretty hefty prenup. And the word was her groom-to-be had presented her with a contract just as massive. The romance of it all was almost too much to bear.

I sighed and looked at the clock. It was already two o'clock, and I had wasted half a day on this proposal, letting all my other responsibilities pile up and my life become even more miserably busy. Patricia wanted to see something on this in less than a week, and I had barely put together two sentences on the beauty and wonder of being a first-time bride pushing forty. Where was the magic? I wondered.

Shoving aside my scribbled notes, I picked up the phone and dialed, not even questioning what I was doing. He was probably home, after all, with the irregular hours he kept now that he was living my dream life as a writer. Probably home and just ignoring the fact that I had called him more than twelve hours ago and left a message.

“Hello?”

“Derrick,” I said, my nerves singing with relief at the sound of that voice I knew better than my own.

“Hey, Emma, what's up?” he replied, a smile in his voice.

He was glad to hear from me! But then suspicion filled me. “I tried you last night. Left a message, in fact. With a…a woman who answered?”

“Oh, Carrie didn't tell me you called.”

Bitch. “Carrie?”

“My roommate. She's a little…ditzy sometimes.”

I smiled inside. She was definitely not Derrick's type. Of one thing I could be sure—he
never
went for ditzy. “Oh, yeah? Well, I guess what can you expect in a
roommate,
after all. It's not like they really
care
whether or not you get your phone messages. Or even what kind of day you've had.”

“Nah, Carrie's great. In fact, she's an excellent cook. And since she weighs about ninety pounds and cooks like she's going to feed an army, I reap the benefits. She has so many leftovers, I may never have to cook for myself again.”

Oh God, he was a goner. “So…how did you find this, uh, roommate? Carrie?” I asked around my tight throat.

“Actually, someone at the studio sent her my way, knowing I was looking for an apartment and she was looking for a roommate. She's an actor. You might even have seen her on TV. She does a lot of commercial work. In fact, she's in a toothpaste ad right now. Close-Up, I think. You know the one where the girl runs into the guy in the elevator?”

“Uh, no. Don't think I've seen it. So you two must be pretty close by now.”

“Close? Well, we're getting to know—” He stopped suddenly. “Emma, what's going on?”

“Going on?”

“You're jealous, aren't you?” Then he laughed. Actually laughed.

“I am not!”