In hopes of helping my plight, I arrive at Ryan’s apartment five minutes early. If nothing else, my punctuality should show him how sorry I am. When I reach his building I sit in my car for a moment trying to decide where to begin. Adam had suggested I go for the lighthearted, humor-laden approach, but somehow I’m not convinced that’s going to cut it this time. I have to put myself in Ryan’s position. If I’d just found out that Ryan had been hiding a serious relationship from me all this time, then I accidentally discovered the truth as this mystery woman was on her knees begging him to marry her, I can’t say I’d be all that forgiving.
Instead, it’s me that is in the awful position of groveling and asking for forgiveness, a task that I loathe almost as much as Ryan’s new pretend lover. Up until now I have tried to lead an honest life, one where friends can count on me not to steal their boyfriends, one where I am honest with the person I’m dating, and one where I never have to be in a position to apologize for being a complete sorry ass.
The thought of the static sounding, evil door buzzer being our first means of communication is also making my nerves go ape-shit. I approach the buzzer with trepidation like a dog that is about to get zapped by an electric fence.
“Hello,” Ryan says through the intercom.
“It’s me,” I respond.
Bzzzzzzt!
Once I exit onto his floor, my fear reaches a new height as I creep down the hall like a scene from
The Shining
. I’m preparing myself for an axe to come crashing through his door as soon as I knock. I gently tap on the door, half-hoping that he’s come to his senses and escaped out his back window, running far away and never looking back. Instead the door opens slowly and he is standing there holding it with one hand while the other is tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans. His magnificent face catches me off guard, as it almost always does, and I can see that his lips are pursed, but smiling. Very, very slightly. As soon as our eyes meet he gestures for me to come in. I brush past him and catch a whiff of his scent that fills my lungs with regret. All I want to do is crawl into his huge arms and inhale every part of him. But I can’t. That is absolutely not on this evening’s agenda anymore.
I take a seat on the edge of his couch and he sits on the coffee table facing me with his hands folded, elbows on his knees. Frightened and pathetic, I force myself to take evenly paced breaths like I do when my physician has a stethoscope on my chest. I must keep my tears at bay because I did not come here for the sympathy vote.
Ryan makes no attempt to speak, so I endeavor to break the dangerously thin ice by starting the conversation. “So, I’m guessing you’re wondering what happened earlier?”
Although his posture is serene, his eyes are like laser beams, fixated on me, weakening my strength. “You could say that,” he says.
I lower my head just a touch in an effort to circumvent the lasers and then roll them back up to meet his face before I begin. “I was in a relationship with a guy named Marc for four years after college. You saw him today,” I add the unnecessary reminder. “We broke up a few months ago but haven’t cut ties completely. And until recently—and today, of course—the first time I’d even spoken to him in months was at my friend’s wedding, the night before my first date with you.”
“Okay,” he says.
“And last week I met him for coffee, when you were in Vegas,” I say, cowering, “and he asked me if we could get back together, if there was still a chance for us.” I pause for a second. “I told him that there wasn’t a future for him and me, and that I was dating you,” I say, trying not to sound defensive.
“Okay,” he repeats.
I clear my lungs and let out a profound breath. “Then today he stopped by and said he wanted to talk, so I met him downstairs because I knew you were coming, and like an idiot, I thought that was the best plan. He then made one last petition for our relationship, and for some godforsaken reason, he proposed to me. And that’s when you walked in.”
My eyes begin to well up so I look away. I’m determined not to release one drop. All the while, Ryan is sitting across from me perfectly still until he runs his right hand through his hair. A small sigh escapes his nose.
Before he has a chance to speak, I continue. “Ryan, I can’t imagine how I would feel if you were saying these things to me right now, nor can I imagine what you must have thought when you walked in on us. All I honestly care about is that you know how unbelievably sorry I am to have kept all of this from you. If I could change how I’ve handled things… I would do anything,” I say.
He unfolds his hands and leans backward on them. “Well,” he starts. “It’s nice to have an explanation, I guess.” He nods once; then his mood shifts as he stands up and steps away from the table, and from me. “Kat, I can tell you’re getting upset, and that’s the last thing I want to happen. I’m not angry; I’m just not sure what to say.”
I heed Adam’s advice and make a meager attempt at lighthearted humor. “Want to write it down?”
“No,” he says in a distant voice before continuing. “I want you to know that I believe you… what you just told me.”
His statement leaves me only partially relieved. “But?” I ask.
“But I also have to believe that there must be more to your relationship with Marc for him to come to you like that and propose.” He looks at me questionably while his words sink in. “And since I’ve already come between you and Julie, maybe it’s just too much. Maybe it’s not meant to be with us, you know? Sometimes when there are too many hurdles, there’s a reason for it.” He stops talking and looks over at me.
I manage to stand, despite my weak knees. “It’s no surprise to me that there are hurdles standing in our way, because that’s how it is, nothing good ever comes easy,” I say, pleading. “Especially for me.”
He sits down on one of the stools at his kitchen island and I can see by the scrunched skin on his forehead that he’s truly conflicted. We’d had such a fantastic time together this weekend and I just met his parents this morning; he can’t possibly pull the plug on us now!
“Look, Kat, I want this to work out, you know I do. But my gut tells me that maybe you need some time to take care of the situation with Marc.” He looks down at the floor. “I’ve been in a similar position before, and it didn’t bode well for me in the end.” He finally makes eye contact again. “I’m not saying that history will repeat itself, I’m just saying that I’ve been here before and if I could’ve changed anything it would’ve been to let
her
figure things out before being with me.”
So that’s it, I’m not the only one keeping secrets. Ryan Sullivan has baggage of his own. “Ryan,” I begin softly. “Obviously I don’t know the specifics of the situation you’re describing and I don’t need to. Because what I do know is that I have nothing left to figure out. I’ve made my decision, and have no regrets.” I walk closer to him. “I promise you I have no agenda here other than being with you. It’s what I want, you know that.”
He’s still looking at me, but with the same conflicted face. “I know, Kat, but a man just proposed to you today and it wasn’t me,” he states. “I think you have a few loose ends to tie up.”
Having already fainted once today, I have faith that my brain will keep me on my feet for the remainder of this conversation. That being said, I can’t fend off the dizziness for much longer. I concentrate on breathing again, and choose not to look him in the eyes anymore because that will surely exacerbate my lightheadedness. He and I have never had so much as a disagreement over what channel to watch, let alone one of this magnitude. I know deep within my bones that he’s not someone who is easily swayed once he’s made up his mind, and I sense the agony of defeat start to come over me like a dark shadow.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Sorry, Kat, I think it’s for the best. If we’re going to be together, I want it to be under the right circumstances.”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Just to be clear, are we breaking up?”
“Let’s just take a break, so you can…”
“Work things out, right, right,” I say to myself in dismay.
“Kat, I’ve been here thinking about what happened at your apartment today, and where to go next,” he says.” I don’t think there is any other answer.”
“Right.”
I make my way to his front door without looking back. He follows close behind and sees me out. I have nothing else to say to him at this point and have lost the will to fight.
“I’m going to Vegas on Wednesday, but let’s talk when I get back, okay?” he says.
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Kat.”
“Bye.”
It looks as though Adam was wrong; Ryan was not willing to consider my explanation. I leave his building and walk over to a park bench before heading to my car. I sit and cry my eyes out for the second time today. I place my head in my hands and release every ounce of sadness and frustration that I’ve been holding onto for the last half of this wretched day. After I compose myself, I retrieve my purse from the sidewalk. A girl needs her best friends at a time like this, so I reach for my phone and dial Julie’s number.
There’s no way to mask my sobs when Julie answers the phone, so after assuring her that I’m in no physical danger she generously agrees to meet me back at my apartment. I tell her I’ll fill her in when she gets there. I’m able to comfort myself long enough to get home and splash some water on my face before she arrives. I buzz her up and wait in the hall for her. Just seeing her face brings tears to my eyes. Yet again.
“You better be dying,” she says as she approaches my door. “I’m sick with worry.”
“No such luck,” I say as she enters the apartment. We go to take a seat and carry a half-empty bottle of wine to the couch.
“What on earth is going on?” she asks.
“Before I begin, I want to say I’m sorry again, for our fight.”
“If the tears are meant to make me feel badly for you, they’re working.” She smiles. “Is that what this is about?”
“No, it’s not. But before I get to that…”
“Hold on, Kat,” she interrupts me. “I know I was hard on you, and even though you attempted to tread lightly and explain the situation, all I heard was betrayal. Ryan and I weren’t that serious, and I shouldn’t have attacked you like I did,” she takes a breath. “And I did get your email, and I appreciated what you said. I wasn’t planning on ignoring you forever, you must know that.”
“Thank you.”
“So, what the hell is going on?” she asks.
I proceed to tell her how everything has progressed with Ryan and me. I then profess my feelings for him and confide how terribly insecure I feel about everything. Next comes the update on Marc and his recurring attempts to patch things up. And then comes the story about the proposal. The real zinger. That jaw-dropping moment where Marc pulls an ace on the river, wins the game and leaves me royally flushed. Lastly, I describe what has taken place over the last hour between Ryan and me. Somehow when you’re either dumped or dissed by the person you love, you’re desperate to talk to someone—anyone—who knows them and might have some insight into the pain you’re going through. This wasn’t the only reason I called Julie, but it was one of them. She shakes her head and sips her wine during my entire narrative, and when I’m through she settles back into the couch and circles the rim of her glass with her index finger.
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” I say, bleary-eyed and exhausted.
“First of all, I wish I had some idea what Ryan was thinking, or some way of reassuring you where he is concerned, but I clearly don’t know him nearly as well as you do,” she says. “Secondly, I’m mortified by the fact that you felt unable to share any of this with me earlier. I should’ve been there for you through all of this and I’m so sorry that you weren’t comfortable talking to me. I understand why, and I completely blame myself.”
“I’m the one who should be, and is, apologizing to everyone,” I clarify.
Julie sits up and leans over to give me a hug and it’s exactly what I need. “Alright, let’s try and put this behind us, you and me. It’s done, okay?” She sits back into a more relaxed position. “Now let’s figure things out here. I mean, what in the hell was Marc thinking?!”
“I know!”
“Did Ryan see you faint?” she wonders.
I nod.
“And he just left?” she asks.
“What else was he going to do? I’m lying there unconscious with a man who just asked for my hand in marriage.” I shake my head at the memory. “I’m sure he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”
“So what exactly did he say when you went over there tonight?” Julie leans forward off the back couch pillow, her body language indicating she needs more of the play-by-play. Unfortunately, it’s all a blur to me at the moment. My head aches as I try and run through the details with her.
I’m rubbing my temples to alleviate the guilt and the tension. “I honestly can’t think of his exact words, because as soon as I realized where he was going with it, I tuned out the details.”
“Just try,” she demands.
“He basically said, ‘someone just proposed to you… it wasn’t me… I’ve been hurt before… and you need to clean house before bothering me again… if ever.’”
Julie gets inquisitive, “He said he wanted to propose to you?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Well you just said something like, ‘it wasn’t me’ and ‘I’ve been hurt before?’ He obviously has some issues of his own here. Number one, he is way into you, because he’s scared of you hurting him, and we all know you can’t be hurt by someone you don’t truly care about. And number two, he’s actually considered marrying you I bet, or he wouldn’t have even mentioned something like that. And both of those things are two huge points in your favor,” Julie says, very proud of her ability to decipher his man code.
“I don’t know.”
“Well I do know. If there’s one thing that I know for sure, it’s men.” She crosses her arms. “Had you told me about all these Marc invasions over the past few months I could’ve predicted his indecent proposal as well,” she claims with confidence.
“So now what do I do? I can’t just keep bothering Ryan and try to present my case over and over. He told me to take some time. Doesn’t that clearly translate to ‘leave me alone, freak?’”
“He’s scared. He just took you to meet his mother this morning for Christ’s sake! I absolutely think you should do whatever it takes to let him know how you feel. If Marc had done that with you, like he realizes now that he should’ve, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation. Because you would’ve taken him back,” she concludes. “But you know what, when the two of you broke up, you were the one who was scared. Terrified, in fact. You were scared of being alone, of not having him in your life, of him not changing… of a lot of things. He knew what you were going through and what did he do about it? Nothing.” She stops to make certain I take a moment to remember. “Now you are in a similar position, only you’re the one that’s going to have to do what Marc didn’t do. You’re going to have to put an end to Ryan’s fears, and fight for what you want.”
She makes perfect sense. She’s eloquently put into words precisely what I need to do; only I know I’m not going to be able to do it. Like that time when my uncle was teaching me how to water-ski. I was bobbing up and down like an apple floating in the lake, holding on to the little bar while a boat idled in front of me. “Just keep your arms straight, stand up when you feel tension and let the boat do all the work,” he said as I looked up at him, my face and hair dripping from the first six failed attempts. Sure, I understood what he was saying; I just didn’t have the confidence to make it happen.
“Can you do it for me?” I ask Julie.
“I wish I could, sister.”
“Me too.”
“Hey,” she wonders. “Did he ever cook for you?”
“Yeah,” I say with a not-so-innocent grin.
“And?”
“It was hot.”
“Damn,” Julie shakes her head and takes a sip of her wine.