Don’t Be in Love

39

Don’t Let Him See You Cry — Adelaide

Once I was convinced he was nowhere near the store, I grabbed my coat, entered the cold, and cried.

I wailed .

I probably looked frantic to the tailor across the street. He could snap a picture and send it to his family group chat for all I cared. It didn’t matter since my throat was swelling up with emotion and cowering screams. If I didn’t take a breath soon, I was nervous it’d pop like a high-voltage light bulb.

Was this what people meant by heartbreak? Because it felt less like my heart was breaking and more like I wanted to drown in a cookie ‘n’ cream frappe while I curled into a ball and let all my stored tears feed the pipes in our apartment to save money on the water bill.

Maybe those were the same things.

(That was my humor covering up the reality of the situation.)

Honestly, it felt as if he had a hand around my heart and squeezed . He squeezed so hard that blood was trickling in slow motion through my gut and filling up my mouth. I pressed my glove against my lips to shallow my hysterical breathing.

He admitted to kissing her. He admitted to seeing her. And he kept it from me the whole night. He couldn’t even fathom up an excuse. He had kissed me and told me he cared for me.

I care for you .

You keep me up every night .

I dream about things that haven’t even happened .

Tell me to stay .

It had been so long since my heart felt like this that I almost forgot it had the capacity to break.

Don’t be in love with him , my heart pleaded. Please don’t.

With the lampposts as my consoler, I followed the dreaded path that Dorian and I usually took to my flat. Only, this time, I stopped at the café across the street and asked if they could make a milkshake. (They had ice cream on the chalkboard menu.) The barista either thought I was really affected by the windchill, or knew I had been crying, because she didn’t say no.

“You’re home!” Mia cheered as I walked through the doorway. Her smile fell as she noted the milkshake in my hand and the redness under my eyes. “How’d it go?”

“The equivalent of a car crash.” I lifted the straw to my mouth.

“Are you alright?” Sabrina’s voice shocked my system. I looked behind Mia and found her on the living room floor, her suitcase exploding with clothes and wrapped gifts. She had no earrings on but fresh lip gloss.

I sniffed quickly and pulled together a smile. “I dropped one of my keychains on the way over and it broke. I didn’t mean to be so dramatic about it,” I laughed, quickly pulling my layers off.

“I can fix it, if you’d like?” she offered, standing.

“No, no, it’s fine. I want to hear all about Paris.” I pulled her into a hug. “I missed you,” I said into her floral-scented hair.

“I missed you too,” she urged, squeezing me. Pulling away, she gasped. “Before Paris though, I have to tell you that your idea worked!”

“My idea?”

“About post-grad! I told my dads about how I planned on finding an interior design position.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell them that until you actually got the position,” I reminded her.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. My dad apparently had this lab interview lined up in Edinburgh and he said if I took it and got the job, he’d get me a part-time design position with this huge home design studio to work on the side. And part-time positions usually lead to full-time positions, so I’m basically hired!”

“Andrew came up with this?” Mia asked in disbelief.

She nodded uncontrollably.

But that was the last thing I was thinking about.

“Edinburgh? As in Scotland?” I asked.

“Yeah …” she said, realizing. “It’s only for the summer. If the position goes well, they have an office here in London I could transfer to. I just have to deal with lab life for a few months.”

“What are you doing after graduation?” I turned to Mia. It was only four months away but suddenly it was on our doorstep.

“If I can’t get a full-time job, then I’ll have to go back,” to Washington . “The rent has been affordable thanks to Sabrina’s dad, but I can’t live off a part-time job forever. My parents already want me home and they’re paying for my student loans so ...”

My heart dropped. I felt sick.

Sabrina’s moving to Scotland, and Mia’s moving back home.

I was trying to digest it, but it wasn’t working. I knew distance would form between us at some point in life, but I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. Not right now.

“We still have a few more months together,” Sabrina said.

“Yeah, there’s still a ton of time for me to find a job,” Mia smiled.

I nodded, trying to force my mouth to smile. But it wasn’t working. If Sabrina had no use for this apartment, then there was no point in her dad renting it to us so affordably. I’d have to find my own place.

I was going to be alone again.

“We’ll make the most of the semester. Take weekend trips. Get dinner more often. We already have something planned for this week!” Sabrina gushed.

“You planned something?” I asked.

“Gosh no. James texted Mia and I about The January last week! Let me go check the post. Invitations for The January are always sent the week of.”

The front door closed, and Mia stared at me with concern, as if I was going to explode.

“What do you want me to do? I can send a fake email that says you have to re-do an exam on the same day? Or I can start injecting your water with something that’ll make it look like you’re sick?”

“Inject it with what?”

“I don’t know, maybe food coloring or something? If we turn your tongue a weird color, I bet that’ll scare Sabrina enough to let you stay home.”

“It’s fine, I want to go.”

“You do?”

“You guys are leaving in May. I spent the entire fall semester buried in work and now I only have a few months of us living together to make up for all the outings I missed.”

“Even if Dorian is there?”

“He won’t be a problem.”

The door swung open. Sabrina walked in with three envelopes, and two boxes, one the size of a sheet cake.

“You sure did quite a bit of shopping while we were gone,” she gestured to me before placing the boxes on the coffee table.

“I didn’t buy anything.”

Her brow rose. “These are addressed to you.”

We gathered around the table immediately as if we were preparing for an emergency séance. If a séance solely involved staring.

“Could it be from your aunt? You have started talking again,” Brina guessed.

“Only recently though.”

“Will you just open it!” Mia begged.

I tore open the package big enough to hold a sheet cake. They scooted closer on the rug as I flipped the top over.

“Wow,” they exhaled. Wow was right.

It was a dusty lavender gown made from a thin organza fabric. With a plunging neckline down the center of the breastbone, it met at a thin bow that kept the chest together. It was fitted from the waist to the hip. While the bottom half was a drop waist skirt, composed of three individual tiered layers. Thin lilac and mauve beads peppered the chest and tiered layers.

It looked like a dress made for a fairy. Or the wife of a very wealthy pirate.

Under the thin straps was a note that said Happy Christmas .

Dorian. He must’ve dropped this off while I was at work.

“Oh my gosh, it must be from James!” Sabrina gasped.

Mia’s eyes widened. Crap. I may have forgotten to fill her in on the whole Sabrina-thinks-James-and-I-are-in-love situation.

“Next one,” Mia ordered, sliding the smaller box across the table.

I peeled off the tape and ripped open the side only to find a gift bag. Carefully sliding it out, the tissue paper ruffled as I found the contents.

A note: I should’ve given you this on your birthday.

And a Beverly crescent bag. An original Beverly from the original the 90s collection .

I lifted the crescent moon-shaped purse made of a pearlescent silk and almost screamed with joy. James .

“Remind me to ask James for gifting advice,” Mia commented.

“Is that what I think it is?” Brina inhaled.

I nodded my head, refusing to look away, afraid it was going to evaporate into strands of thread.

“It matches the dress perfectly . Go try it on!” Sabrina urged.

My stomach lurched. “Oh, I can’t, really. I can’t accept something that … nice.” I can’t wear a dress he picked out .

I looked to Mia for help, but she was running her fingers over the beading still.

“Of course, you can!” Brina argued. “It’s a gift, you should always accept a gift. I also doubt you remembered to buy a dress. Not like anything could top this anyway.”