What Love Looks Like Read online

  As the days progressed, I grew increasingly glum. I sensed that my negativity put people off, but there was nothing I could do to perk up after such a blow. Reining in my misery was beyond my will. My sister and friends called several times, concerned that they hadn’t heard from me for a while, but I couldn’t swallow my pride and tell them that I’d been lied to and pushed aside for another woman. It was too humiliating after how much I'd played up the relationship. And while I couldn’t help how I felt inside, I could prevent others from having to deal with me in those dark hours.

  As much as I’d resented my work in the past, it provided me temporary solace during the daytime hours. It was the evenings that were the most painful, though. I couldn't focus on anything other than the huge, gaping hole inside of me. I wanted to blame Jay for all of it too. I wanted to fault him for breaking my heart and throwing it, bloodied and tattered, onto the curb like a piece of garbage. But if I really thought about it, I had to acknowledge that I’d known who Jay was all along, even before his offenses came to light.

  I'd been warned by a member of his own family to watch out for his wandering eye. He’d told me over Skype that he was obsessed with our sex, rather than with our relationship. I’d seen a girl in a bar who’d been scorned by him and who scoffed at the very thought of him having a girlfriend. And I'd even heard straight from Jay himself that dating him might not exactly be a walk in the park. But I fell for him anyway. I was blinded by his good looks, his sex appeal, and his lies. I consented to sleeping with him, dating him, and falling for him even though I knew he was a bad guy. All that he’d done was made me feel less empty for a while. But being with him was like trying to repair a leaky roof with a Band-Aid. Eventually, something was bound to burst. And in spite of logically knowing right from wrong, literally every second was consumed with the pain of losing him

  The nights passed, and I returned to the state of loneliness that I’d come to know well from my pre-Jay existence. The hours consisted of me, my thoughts, and a whole lot of quiet. When the weekends came, I knew that forty-eight hours of isolation were ahead of me. I was numb.

  One melancholy evening, I walked the perimeter of the park with Luna, wondering if I’d ever find a way out of my grief. I watched as she pleasantly greeted everyone who passed us by. Her vigor, her life force, and her very existence: it made me smile for the first time in days. As we strolled through the tree-lined pathways, my senses were hyperalert. I listened as a man played guitar on the grass, his guitar case open with a few dollar bills strewn about. He played beautifully and sang as if though one was listening.

  There was so much soul in every lyric, in every strum of his guitar. He was playing his heart out, doing what he loved. He played for free, apart from a few dollars he received from generous strangers, just to entertain others and satisfy a drive within him to make music. If he could be so optimistic with things as simple as a guitar and a blanket, why couldn’t I? I had so much to live for: my health, my life experience, and the love and support of my family and my friends. I couldn’t let Jay, my addictions, my past, or anything else define who I was.

  I listened faithfully to the music, and it dawned on me that I was ready for the weather to get warm. I wanted to get back out there, meet new people, and try satisfying myself from the inside out instead of the outside in. I wanted to be me, without worrying about men or my body or booze. I wanted to find love in the world, whether from another person or in my job: something—anything—that I could feel passionate about. I needed something that wasn’t accompanied by anxiety or darkness; rather, something light and pure. I would figure out what was really important and live my life around that principle. I’d hit rock bottom and was clawing my way back. It would be a long road. But I wanted to do it the right way—slow and steady, not just another quick fix to fill my void. Maybe then I’d finally attract whatever I was meant for into my life.

  16

  Several weeks passed, and little by little my fog of pain dissipated. Spring was alive, and with the mild weather came a shift in my mind-set. As with any heartache, the passing of time made the intense feelings fade. In my initial gloom, I thought I’d never find the strength to heal, but at last, things were looking up.

  Early one spring evening, I caught myself gazing out of my window at the astonishingly clear sky. It was a refreshing change from incessant cloud cover and seemed to fit my new attitude. True, I was alone again, but really that was by choice. Jay had claimed he didn’t want to lose me, but I’d summoned the strength in the moment to avoid believing him. He hadn’t called since our blow-up, but I was fairly certain that if I reached out to him he’d be willing to talk. However, I'd shifted my energy elsewhere after the pain surrounding him had dissolved. I came out convinced that no man would ever hurt me so badly again, and I found comfort in that. There was nowhere to go but up.

  My spirits had improved, but I still had a lot of soul-searching to do. My life until now had been a series of roller-coaster rides in which my emotions dictated most of my decisions. Fear had kept me from moving on in my career. Lust had sent me into Jay’s arms even though I knew better. I had to overcome my feelings and start making logical decisions instead of emotional ones. I would be twenty-nine in a few short months, but it wasn’t too late; I could still lay the groundwork for the rest of my life. I rejected the notion that Erica, Stacey, and everyone else were further ahead on life’s path than I was; I wasn’t behind; I was on my own path, going at my own pace, to my own destination.

  I faced another weekend alone, but the loneliness intimidated me less and less. If that was as bad as life got, I could handle it. Not wanting to travel far for dinner, I called in for takeout from Marcella’s. The girl who answered the phone knew my order before I even gave her any information. I’d been there so many times before that I no longer cared what the staff thought of my appearance. I didn’t change out of my nubby cream-colored sweater or faded yoga pants with the tie-dyed waistband before picking up my order. And I only made the look worse when I stuffed my pants into my filthy rain boots.

  Minutes later I was alone at the bar. It was the first social contact I’d had in a day and a half. As egocentric as it might have seemed, self-imposed isolation was my way of coming back to life. I found it easier to put back the pieces without opinions from my mother or my friends that I should be out at night trying to meet someone new. A period of self-reflection and stillness was the best way to repair my heart.

  Sure, I’d been hurt before, and the days after Jay’s deception had been some of my darkest. I felt like an outcast, a pariah. Never had my painful past so heavily influenced my present. But who I was in high school wasn’t who I was destined to be. I was a survivor. I was worthwhile, whether Jay thought so or not. And the truth was, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. If I hadn’t been bullied through high school, I wouldn’t have become a compassionate adult. If I hadn’t gone through the ebbs and flows of addictions, I wouldn’t have known moderation or true happiness. If Jay hadn’t shattered my heart, someone else would have. Now that the greatest heartbreak I’d known was behind me, I felt confident in moving toward a newer, brighter future. I was so lost in that understanding that I almost didn’t hear my name being called from the other end of the bar.

  “Elle,” a man’s deep voice said.

  I looked up, and there was Ryan, also seated alone a few bar stools away.

  “Hey,” I said, quickly trying to fluff my hair and adjust my sweater to make myself slightly more presentable.

  “What are you doing here?” He didn't flinch at my tasteless outfit and messy hair.

  “Just picking up some dinner to go,” I said, embarrassed. Surely a woman my age looking a fright and picking up takeout for one from a place usually reserved for dates didn’t look like the picture of contentment.

  “Well, that’s convenient.”

  “Yep, it’s a quick trip down from the second floor.”

  “It must get loud on the weekends.”

 
“Yeah, it’s hard to sleep sometimes,” I said. “So what are you doing here?” I was trying to remove the focus from my pathetic-looking existence.

  “I actually got off work early tonight, so I came over for a drink. One of my college buddies is a bartender here.” He pointed to a cute guy behind the bar I’d seen many times before when picking up takeout.

  “That’s nice. Do you come here often?” It sounded more like a pick-up line than an informal question.

  “Nah. I almost never get out early enough to come here. I think the last time I went out for drinks was at the award ceremony we went to.”

  “Well, funny running into you, then, because I hardly ever come in here either.” I was flat-out lying.

  “Sit down and stay a while. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said. A few days earlier, I’d resolved that I wouldn’t allow men to continue to buy me drinks every time I went out. It seemed to only get me into trouble.

  “Please, you bring so much business into my restaurant. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Well, okay.” Ryan was just a friend, so I’d amend my rule slightly. “Thank you. I could use a little distraction, as a matter of fact.”

  “Is everything all right?” He stood up and pulled out the bar stool next to him so I could sit down. He had chivalry down to an art form.

  “Yeah,” I felt a lump form in my throat for the first time in a few days. “Everything’s fine. It’s just . . . guy trouble.”

  “The guy from New York?”

  “Yes, Jay.”

  “What happened?” he asked. “I thought everything was going great.”

  “He stopped calling, stopped texting, and blew off our next trip. Oh, and he cheated on me. And I just don’t understand why because he seemed so into me. But I’m getting better every day. I mean, how long can I wallow in the sadness?”

  “He cheated on you? What a dick. Pardon my language. But he’s crazy. You’re a total catch.”

  I blushed. “Stop,” I said, smiling.

  “I mean it. That guy’s a moron. He has no idea what he’s missing.”

  Suddenly, I was overcome with disgust for Jay and the way he'd treated me. How dare he? Even Ryan said I was a catch. Jay Conrad could drop dead for all I cared. “You know what? I don’t even want to talk about him,” I said. “How are things with you?”

  “Good, I guess. I’m ready for summer. I’m so sick of the cold.”

  “I’m ready for that too, except I actually love the cold.”

  “You do? You’re one of the only people I’ve ever heard say that.”

  “Yeah, living here we just have to embrace it. Plus, I’m obsessed with Christmas and that time of year. I just love anything warm and cozy. Oh, and I love eggnog and the flavors of fall and winter food.”

  “That’s cute.” Ryan said, laughing. “I’ve never had eggnog before.”

  “That’s crazy talk! In December, I’m going to come find you and make you try some.” When the bartender came over, I ordered a dirty martini and specifically requested a garnish of blue cheese olives. My hope was that they’d tide me over until I got home and inhaled my takeout. Plus, vodka martinis made me upbeat and happy. Of course the hangovers were wicked, but it was worth it just to have a break from my unremitting self-analysis.

  I chugged my drink quickly and promptly ordered another. As much as I was trying to let go of my bad habits, I couldn’t resist a drink at one of my favorite places with a good friend. Ryan slowly sipped his beer and allowed me to dominate the conversation. Within minutes, he knew about my frustration with the company we both worked for, he knew I’d grown tired of living downtown because of the noise and anonymity, and he knew that I was turning twenty-nine in just a few short months. I was rambling and whining, and yet he listened as though I was telling some gripping story.

  “I would be so much better at my job if corporate didn’t want me to turn in a report every five minutes,” I said. “Sometimes I wish I worked for myself.”

  I was hoping he’d join me in bashing East Coast Prime, but no vitriol escaped his lips. That was another habit I needed to correct: complaining. I could sit there and bitch about my life, or I could actually do something to change it—a more effective strategy.

  “You should work for yourself,” he said, “you’d be great at planning weddings and all that stuff.”

  “You think so? I don’t know. Owning your own business in this economy is a crapshoot.”

  “Yeah, but if I had an opportunity to open my own restaurant, I’d do it. Except that it costs a fortune. Huge overhead. What you’re talking about wouldn’t cost much to start up at all.”

  “Maybe next year,” I said. “For now, I can barely afford my rent, so the thought of inconsistent income is terrifying.”

  “Don’t be scared. You’ll be successful no matter what you do. You’re smart, talented, personable, and beautiful.”

  “Well, thank you, you’re sweet.”

  “I’m not saying it to be sweet. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

  We both had another drink (his second, my third) and continued to learn even more about each other than we already knew. I was so pleased that Ryan and I had surpassed being just coworkers, and not just because he was good company when I most needed someone impartial, but also because he was a damn good guy. I’d been so hung up on my aching heart that I'd forgotten how enjoyable it was to discover new things about someone, even when you were just friends, and to reveal myself to someone else too.

  When our conversation turned to pets, I said, “Luna is the sweetest dog. I was lost before I had her.”

  “And now you’re found?”

  “I’m not sure that I’m exactly found, but I’m finding my way.”

  “Dogs do that,” Ryan said. “They make your life better. I hate when I have a crazy week because then I have to leave Woody at the kennel.”

  “What kind of dog is he?”

  “German shepherd mix.”

  “He would eat Luna as an appetizer.”

  “Nah, he’s a teddy bear. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Ryan didn’t instantly strike me as the dog-loving, outdoorsy type, but he was definitely a guy's guy. He was so tall and so well built. He had to have been a high school athlete. He looked as if he worked out, but not to the insane point of having just 4 percent body fat the way Jay did. In reality, Jay was more emaciated than anything else. But Ryan was the strong and masculine type, and he seemed so comfortable with his imposing stature. It was as if he wouldn’t be afraid to use his strength if he had to, but in other situations he might not even know how powerful he was.

  “Is Luna upstairs right now?” he asked.

  “Yeah, she is, probably wondering where the hell I am.”

  “Let’s go see her.”

  “You want to come upstairs to my apartment?” I mentally scanned it, trying to remember if I’d left out any old food, dishes in the sink, or panties on the bathroom floor.

  “Well, not like the way you’re saying it,” he said, laughing, “but yeah, I’d love to meet her.”

  “Okay. Let’s get the check.” The check came and Ryan insisted on paying for the whole thing, including my takeout, even though I protested.

  He followed me outside and then upstairs to my apartment and commented on how nice the building was. Luna bounded into my arms when I opened the door, and Ryan laughed as she vigorously licked me on the lips. “She’s like this all the time,” I said.

  We walked back downstairs with Luna and into Goodale Park. It was dark and cool outside, no more than fifty degrees, and there wasn’t another soul in the usually congested park. Luna scurried around, and I watched her sniff what looked like nothing to me but was probably a smorgasbord to her.

  “She’s a cool dog,” he said.

  “Thank you. Next time I’ll have to meet Woody.”

  “Will there be a next time?”

  “Meaning will we hang out again?�
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  “Yes.”

  “I don’t see why not,” I replied. “We’re friends, right?”

  “That’s good. I’d like to see you again outside of work. You’re awesome company.”

  “As are you,” I said.

  Just then I felt the energy in the empty, chilly park shift. My stomach felt light and fluttery, and my cheeks felt warm. The mood shifted from carefree to humorless. Ryan moved a few inches closer. I felt that curious sensation you get just before a first kiss. Being seconds away from kissing someone who I’d known for two years platonically was strange. We weren’t even on a date; we’d only run into one another by chance (or was it by fate?). And yet I was certain that he was about to kiss me. I hadn’t prepared myself to kiss anyone that night, let alone Ryan Adler. I didn’t know how I felt about him now; all along I'd thought that we were strictly friends. But I was drunk, and my inhibitions had vanished with my second drink, so I didn’t fight the urge.

  We faced one another, and before I knew it he'd leaned down and placed his supple, full lips softly onto mine. His warm mouth connected with mine for almost an entire minute, but there was no physical contact apart from our mouths touching. I wasn’t sure if the kiss felt right, but I knew that it certainly didn’t feel wrong. We would have kept on kissing had Luna not interrupted us by jumping at my leg to let me know she was ready to go home.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I definitely want to see you again.” He pulled slowly away. He was smiling, and he gently rubbed the small of my back for a second after our faces parted. It was comforting to feel his massive hands on my body, as if he was equipped to protect me if necessary.

  He walked me back to my door where we said goodnight. We didn’t kiss a second time, but instead we awkwardly smiled at one another and giggled faintly. I wondered how we’d reached the point of kissing in the park. I wasn’t sure what Ryan was thinking, but I knew that my confusion was greater now that we'd kissed. How had it happened? Just two hours earlier, I was moping around in my ugly outfit with untidy hair contemplating my life and barely able to get over the guy I’d only just lost. Now I was kissing a different guy. And it was Ryan.