Lost and Found (22 page)

Ursula tapped a pen to my forehead. “You awake in there?”

“Huh?”

“I was asking you about this citation guide. What do you think?” She tilted the monitor toward me and waited.

“Oh, uh, looks great.”

“You seem a little bit off. Are you feeling sick? Did you get your flu shot, because Erica in Technical Services got the flu from her preschooler and it’s ripping through the library now. Reference is next. I can practically feel the germs on the public computers in the Info Commons.”

“Not sick. I’m fine,” I said, and I turned back toward my ke
yboard, opening up my email.

“Is it Cliff? Is Cliff still calling you? I told that nut bag to leave you alone, but if he doesn’t, then let me know.”

I swiveled my chair around. “You did what?”

Her mouth popped open. “I just—when he was here. I talked to him. So did Emily.”

“And you told him to leave me alone?” I threw my hands up in disgust. “I am a big girl. I can deal with him myself!”

“I know you can. I swear.”

I spluttered, “Then
why
did you feel the need to threaten him on my behalf?”

“I just want you to be happy. You were always so u
nhappy with Cliff,” she said with a frown.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t unhappy in the beginning.”

“Yes you were. You never thought you were good enough. You always thought you were the one who loved more. You felt like it was uneven, and that it was supposed to be uneven.”

“Well, duh,” I said. “Look at me.”

“And?”

“If I’m ever in a real relationship again, it’s going to be that way. I’m always going to be the grateful one,” I said, thinking of Oliver at my door last night, nonchalantly tel
ling me he was seeing the love of his life again. He was gone. I knew he was gone. He didn’t promise to stay. He didn’t love me, and there was no reason for it.

“But you’re amazing.”

I shook my head. “Guys just aren’t interested in me like that, Urs.”

She wheeled herself toward me and put her hands on either side of my face, pinching my cheeks.
“You. Are. Amazing. Now you say it.”

“You are amazing.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of my face. “Say it for real this time.”

“Only if you let go of my face.”
She dropped her hands and I said, “Fine. I am amazing.”

“Good, now say, ‘I deserve true love.’”

“Ursula, I—”

She put her hands back on my face and squeezed. “Say.
It.”

“I deserve true love.”

“Now say, ‘My wildest dreams are coming true.’”

This time I shoved her hands away. “I’m not saying that, Ursula. I don’t even
have
wild dreams. I’m not wild.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. You’re too scared to even dream of what you want, much less go for it.”

I turned my shoulder to her and ignored her for the rest of the afternoon, angry at how right she was.

***

I knocked on Oliver’s door with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies balanced on my palm, e
xpecting him to not answer so I could leave them with a note, asking if we could go back to being friends.

It still stung when I thought of Oliver and Mia. It more than stung. I’d taken to my bed in refuge, Jenny snug in my side, warm and sleepy. But it smelled like Ol
iver, so I’d dragged my duvet out to the sofa and ate cookie after cookie until I felt whole.

It didn’t work.

I knew I needed to let him go. I knew everything with Oliver was temporary. I knew she was what he wanted, and Ursula was right, I needed to think of what I wanted.

What I wanted was to not see them in the hallway.
And to move away from Oliver. And to move on from men.

I bent over to place the cookies in front of his door when it opened, startling me. There Oliver was, shirtless, with a look of bewilderment on his face. “What are you doing?” he said crankily.

“Uh,” I said, straightening and holding out the plate of cookies. “For you.”

“Thanks,” he said, still staring at me with mild annoyance, not ta
king the cookies.

I kept my eyes on his chest. “Tell Mia I said hi,” I said, and then put down the plate and turned to r
etreat to my apartment and sob, but before I could go one step, he caught my upper arm and pulled me to him.

“Mia’s not here,” he said. “I’m not—Mia and I aren’t together. We never were.” He put his hands on my hips, pivoting me to him, and then placed his face on my neck, the scruff of his unshaven face giving me goose bumps and making me give an involuntarily sigh as he splayed his hands across my back. “Come in. Please. I’m having a bad day.”

I nodded into his hair, tears trickling down my face in relief, or in agony of not letting him go, I wasn’t sure which. I surreptitiously dried my eyes and went with him. We both forgot about the cookies.

I was touching the skin behind Delaney’s knees, the small patches that were discolored white against the tan. She never let me touch them when she was awake. She was always moving when she was awake, full of nervous energy. She wiggled her toes, chewed her nails, peeled labels off bottles. Even her hair swung.

She wasn’t a lovely porcelain beauty like Mia. She was co
mpletely alive.

But when she was asleep, I could touch her. I could look at her without her looking away, moving away from me. She was always moving away from me, and I was a
lways trying to get closer. We were going to end up in a corner one day.

I touched the back of her knee, and then trailed my finger up her thigh, up the curves of her, and tried to see
what Mia had seen in Delaney. Did Delaney worship me? Did she love me?

As far as I knew, she was still talking to Cliff, and a
ccording to Ursula, Cliff was still trying to get her back. Cliff was more than me. He was better looking, more successful, richer, and had known Delaney longer. What did I know about her?

Delaney stirred as my hand reached the middle of her back, and I stilled. She turned and gave me a sleepy smile, catching my hand in hers, her lips on mine, pressing her body against mine. Her hair fell around my face, curling around my neck, and I looked into her dark, almost black eyes and said, “I need you,” before I kissed her, not knowing where the words came from, but knowing they were exactly the right ones.

***

Ursula was practically sitting in Michael’s lap at the restaurant. “They give you your own chair, Urs,” Delaney said, sitting at my elbow as we pretended to be nothing more than neighbors. Delaney sipped her coffee, her hair still wet from the shower we’d taken together.

“I’m just happy, okay?” Ursula said, kissing Michael again as the emerald ring shone in the morning sun. She eventually slid off M
ichael’s lap and into her own chair after Delaney kept staring.

“We’re happy for you,” Delaney said. “But it’s ea
rly.” Delaney rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” Michael said, and Delaney said, “Yeah, I kept getting woken up by something poking at me in bed,” with a complet
ely straight face.

I coughed up the coffee I was drinking. We still hadn’t told anyone, and it felt nice to live in this c
ocoon, away from other people’s judgments.

Delaney put a hand on my back. I could feel the warmth of her through my shirt, and I started to feel uncomfortable at how good it felt. Too quickly, she wit
hdrew her hand and put it back on her cup.

“Maybe it’s time to get a new mattress,” Ursula said.

“That’s probably it,” Delaney said. “So when’s the wedding?”

Ursula looked at Michael and he gave a slight nod. “We’ve decided to get married next month. Isn’t that great?” she said with a huge grin.

“Whoa,” I said, setting down my cup. “Next…month?”

“I know it’s sudden, but neither of us want a big we
dding. We just want to be married,” Ursula said. “And we want both of you to be in the wedding. And Emily and my brother, and Michael’s sister, too.”

“I’m so excited!” Delaney said, giving Ursula a hug. “This is great! Can I do anything?”

“We were hoping you’d make the wedding cake, actually,” Ursula said to Delaney, and Delaney visibly swallowed. “Only if you want to! And it will be a small wedding, and it’s not like I want fondant birds or a fountain or anything like that. Just one of your lemon cakes.”

“How could I say no?” Delaney said.

“Oh, yay! I was nervous about asking you,” Ursula said, and then Michael nudged her. “There’s actually one other favor we have to ask you, Laney.” At that moment, Ursula shot Michael a nervous look and he stood up and said, “Hey, O, I have a…a patient question. Want to walk outside and discuss it?”

“Wait, what?” I said, confused by Ursula’s pleading looks b
etween me and Michael. “Ursula, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.
  She needs to ask Delaney something. Come with me. It’s private,” Michael said a little desperately.

“Is something wrong?” Delaney said, the skin between her ey
ebrows forming a worried little V.

Ursula shook her head, and Michael, seeing that I wasn’t going to walk away from the conversation, sat back down in his chair.

“Michael has a friend who was at our apartment for dinner the other day. David. He’s a doctor in his practice,” Ursula said, and Michael bobbed his head like an idiot in agreement. “Anyway, David was talking about not meeting any nice women and…”

I balled up my fists but stayed silent.

“I said that one of my best friends was not only single, but sweet and beautiful and smart and funny, and I showed him a photo of you on my phone, and he really wants to meet you,” Ursula said.

Delaney glanced nervously at me and then back at Ursula. Ursula caught the look and sent me a withe
ring stare.

“I don’t know,
Urs. I’m kind of busy, and now I have a wedding cake to bake, and you know I’m not really dating…” Delaney said.

“It’s a date, not an arranged marriage, Lane,” Ursula said, more to me than to Delaney.

“Oh, okay,” Delaney said, always the doormat. “I guess in that case…” Delaney turned to me, giving me a helpless look.

“Don’t ask me.” I shrugged. The anger built in me and I said with disgust, “I don’t care who you date. It’s not like
we’d
ever be involved.” Her face shriveled like a wilting rose.

Delaney gave the smallest nod and said, “Sure, I can meet David,” and Ursula squealed in e
xcitement as my stomach churned and my face heated with rage.

“This is so perfect! He’s the perfect guy for you, I swear,” Ursula said as I sipped my coffee, which now tasted like battery acid. “You’re going to fall in love and have the cutest little nerd b
abies.”

Michael said, “Want to take that walk now? It’s rai
ning, though.”

I stood up and shoved my arms through my
coat. “I don’t care. Let’s go.”

After Michael and Oliver had gone outside to talk, Ursula said in a stage whisper, “Oliver’s pissy. What was that about?”

“I think he’s on night float again.”

“So? He loves night float,” she said, picking at an abandoned croissant on Michael’s plate. “I think he’s jealous.”

“Of who?”
I said.

“Duh, of David.
Did you not see how he went all red when I started talking about setting you up? He
so
wants you. One of these days he’s going to ask you out, but just stay strong and say no. He’s bad news.”

“You keep saying that, but why do you think it?” I asked, pulling the destroyed croissant out of Ursula’s hands so I could stuff my feelings down with carboh
ydrates.

“Because.
You know how you always see him with a different girl? He’s always been like that. In med school, he had this beautiful girlfriend for like, a second. She had red hair, milky skin, she was smart, and the instant she said she loved him, he dumped her.”

I swallowed. “Why?”

“Because he’s a commitment-phobe! Because his mom is a cold unfeeling woman.  One year Oliver got her wool socks and said, ‘too bad they don’t make these for hearts,’ on the tag.”

“Ouch.”

“Or maybe he’s a commitment-phobe because his dad died? In any case, it doesn’t matter. He
is.
”

“I think it’s because he has a hero complex, so he can’t be tied down,” I ventured. When Ursula ge
stured for me to go on, I said, “He thinks he has to save everyone, and when he does, it’s over for him. It’s uninteresting, and he gets bored, and then he moves on. He doesn’t
mean
to. He’s not a cheater or immoral. He just has an unending need to save the universe, and a girl who doesn’t need saving is—”

“—boring.
That makes sense.”

I nodded and drank my coffee as Ursula talked. “Ol
iver’s a great guy, but I do
not
want you involved with him. Especially not after the clusterfuck known as Cliff. Go out with David. Get your mind off of Oliver. I know you like him, but trust me: don’t.”

I took a big breath.
“Yeah. Very good advice. I should listen to you.”

“Maybe it’s the beginning of you being wild with your wild dreams.”

I squinted to see out the window.
Not likely. My wildest dream doesn’t care if I date a passel of men.

“Speaking of advice, I’m going to give you advice for what kind of bridesmaid dress is going to look great on you,” Ursula said right as Michael and Oliver came back to the table, cheeks ruddy, both of them dripping wet.

Oliver sat beside me for the rest of brunch, stiff and cold, and I wondered if I could get some wool socks for his heart, too.