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Eight Ball, what say you? Is this a good idea?

Just as I thought:
outlook not so good.

The game is based off that old Sesame Street song—each player names three things about themselves that are true and one that is false. The opponent has to pick the false claim. If they get it wrong, they drink.

Apparently, I know diddly about Mr. Sexybutt over there.

Jake, however, is doing very well.

“So, now I know that the formidable Jules Taylor: loves horror films, only has one real girlfriend (who she is currently fighting with), majored in law because she wants to, and I quote,
nail balls to the wall
, and her favorite cereal is Captain Crunch.”

“Yeah, and I’m drunk and know squat about you.”

“Actually, it hurts to know how little you’ve paid attention to me,” he says, sliding closer.

“Oh come on, I think it’d take a lot more than that to hurt a brute like you.”

“Brute?” He feigns insult. “I guess the hits just keep on coming.”

Jake turns to me now and leans his head back on the couch. I can feel a kiss on its way. His big move. My body screams,
no, no, no. He doesn’t belong here.
My brain isn’t so sure. This could be good for me after all, a nice distraction from Foster.

He smiles and brushes the hair away from my face. “I’ve had so much fun with you tonight.”

Is he crazy? This has been one of the worst nights ever.

“Really?” I laugh. “Which part? The riveting conversation at the restaurant? Running into my ex? Or playing games with a sloppy drunk?”

“All of it.” He leans into me. “I mean it, Jules. I like spending time with you, no matter the circumstances. I’d like to do it again. And you are far from sloppy.”

Boy, he is the ultimate charmer.

For some reason, this turn for the serious makes me laugh. Jake doesn’t join in, though. Because he’s too busy trying to shove his tongue down my throat.

Foster

In my apartment, I pace around the boxes–worried about what Jake has planned for Jules, worried that it’s already too late.

Doesn’t matter.

I need to keep moving forward with my plan for me and nobody else. Not even Jules. I finally believe I deserve it—a decent place to live, a career…shit, I deserve a life.

Tonight was another step forward. Ashley hooked me up with her cousin, a commercial real estate agent. Earlier today, I signed a lease. We were celebrating until Jules showed.

Seeing her sucked the life right out of me. She looked tired and sad and it made me wonder if any of this will be worth it without her—but I can’t focus on that now.

Soon, I’ll be able to ask her back. I’ll beg if I have to.

Until that day, I need to convince Tabby to look out for her.

I send Tab a text:
I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I saw Jules tonight and I’m worried.

She’s not talking to me,
Tabby writes back.

Make her.

I’ll try.

That’s all any of us can do.

Jules

My head is pounding when I wake, but praise be, there’s a huge glass of water on my table. I drink until the last drop slides down my lips and try to piece together the night.

It comes to me in little snippets that play behind my eyelids, starting with my
bad day at D and D.

I drag my sorry booty out of bed to the bathroom and see another snippet.

Drinking margaritas with Jake in Uptown.

Splashing water on my face seems to revive me, so I decide to take a shower.

A few other memories surface in the shower:
Foster drinking champagne at the bar and my discussion with Ash in the bathroom.

I finish up and head to the kitchen for coffee. Strange, I can already smell it.

As I turn the corner, the past and present collide when I slam into Jake.

“Hey,” he says, holding out a cup of coffee from the shop down the block. “I thought you could use the good stuff this morning.”

That’s when the feature presentation from last night begins to play in my mind.
The drinking game, the kiss, and…

I’m not sure what else. Oh God, I’m going to be sick.

Making a mad dash for the toilet, I empty out the entire contents of my stomach.

No, Jules. No! You didn’t!

Damn, I wish I knew.

I brush my teeth and go back to face Jake.

“You might be worse than I thought,” he says.

“I really don’t remember ever being that drunk,” I say, before asking the inevitable question.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have encouraged you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I take full responsibility for my poor choices.” I raise an eyebrow.

Don’t make me ask, don’t make me.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, either,” he says.

I drop my head. “Unfortunately, I don’t remember most of it.”

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “That’s as far as it went. I helped you to bed and then I slept on the couch.”

Praise be!

“Good,” I blurt and I can’t help but notice he looks a little hurt. “I mean. I’m just not ready for anything more right now.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry about it, but I know. You were talking about him in your sleep.”

I drop my head to the counter. “Please tell me that’s a lie.”

“Trust me, I wish I could,” Jake says. “Okay, I better go. Get some rest and I’ll see you on Monday.”

I nod. Then I bury my head under the covers until the sun sets.

~~~

“Is it safe for me to be back in the apartment?” Tab asks before taking a seat on my bed.

I open one eye and groan.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she says.

“Yes,” I tell her. “It’s safe.”

“I heard you got pretty wrecked last night.”

“You heard right,” I say.

“Are you okay, hun?”

“Not yet, but I will be.”

“Man, you’re so much more agreeable when you’re hung-over. I should’ve got you drunk days ago.”

I let out a courtesy chuckle.

“Are we okay, Jules?” Tabby asks.

“We will be,” I say.

“I am so sorry. If it helps at all, I just found out. Noah came clean when we got back from Illinois. I didn’t know what to do. I know how you feel about infidelity, but you and Foster were so happy. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“There was nothing to ruin. Everything we had was a lie.”

“No way. I don’t believe that for a second. If you could see how that boy looks at you. It was the real deal.” She moves closer. “I bet it still
is
the real deal.”

I shake my head and the tears begin to fall.

“Oh, Jules.” Tabby puts her arms around me. “What are you going to do?”

“Stay in here. Forever.”

“Well in that case, we need some music.”

She puts her phone in the docking station in my room. I recognize the tune immediately—
I Am a Rock
by Simon and Garfunkel.

“Remember when you quoted all those lyrics to me last year?” she asks. “And you said this song was the anthem for the depressed?”

“I do.”

“You were so great to me. And you asked me to give Noah a chance, you told me to let him in. I listened to you and it was the best decision of my life. Will you listen to me now?”

“Depends,” I tell her.

She nudges me. “I think you should give Foster another chance.”

“Can’t do it,” I say without a thought. “And it’s not because I don’t want to. I just can’t. Not after watching what my mom went through when my dad left. I don’t want to relive that. I don’t want to be her.”

“But Foster isn’t your dad, Jules. Maybe there was more to the divorce, it’s hard to know what really went on. Maybe you could talk to her.”

“I’m sure this is the last topic on earth she’d like to discuss with me.”

“Never know until you try. Now how about something to eat? You really look like hell.”

“I feel even worse, if that helps,” I quip.

“So, are you the rock or island?” she asks as she walks out.

I play the song in my head:
I am a rock, I am an island.

“I think I’ll be the rock this time,” I say.

“Good girl,” Tabby says from the kitchen.

Then she brings a tray of Sprite and chicken and stars soup to my bed and slides in. We eat and listen to Simon and Garfunkel.

~~~

I get off the phone with my mom the next morning. Tabby was right, there was more to the story with my parents.

Sitting in my bed, I try to take in everything she told me. In some ways I feel more confused than ever. All this time I wanted to blame my dad for everything that happened during the divorce…and after. It was easier that way I guess. Mom said it was easier for her, too, for a long time. She’d blame Dad and the
other woman
(that’s what I’ve decided to call her now—it’s a nice step up from ho) for the way everything turned out, but in her heart she knew it wasn’t the truth. She knew their marriage was broken
before
the affair.

Still, we both agreed it was a douchey thing to do.

During our call, I don’t tell Mom about what happened with Foster. She adores him and I can’t take that away from her. Because, I realize, I want them to have a good relationship. I don’t want things to end this way.

And that’s when the pictures start flipping in my head again.

Foster’s smile as he hugs Mom one Christmas morning—
click.
His big hands wrapped around bags of groceries as he carries them into the apartment—
click.
His cute butt shaking away as he cooks—
click.
Those amber eyes all soft and dreamy when he wakes up in the morning—
click, click
.

But this album isn’t from the hundreds I’ve mentally taken in the past. No, these beauties haven’t been taken yet. They’re the photos of my future.

“Tabby,” I yell from my bed. “Tabby!”

“What?” she asks, before whipping open my bedroom door. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“No,” I tell her. “I mean yes. I don’t know, but I need your help.”

“Anything,” she says. “What do you need?”

My future back.

“The name of that place where Foster volunteers,” I say. “And his schedule.”

Tabby knows all about it after helping Noah with an article about Foster’s work and donation to a local charity. That edition of our college paper was delivered to my room the minute it came off the presses—courtesy of my matchmaker roommate. Noah, on the other hand, waved off the whole thing, saying he needed a filler story for the summer edition.

Whatever the reason, I was impressed. Foster’s doing some amazing work. Maybe it’s like he says. Maybe he has changed.

“I’m on it.” Tabby grins and rubs her hands together in delight. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “But I want to find out.”

Foster

Not only am I suffering from insomnia, now I’m seeing things too. I swear Jules walks by the door of the activity room at the Center. But when I look again, she’s gone.

The exhaustion is taking its toll. Getting your shit together is hard-ass work.

In the past few weeks, I’ve turned my life upside down. I took control of my trust and that’s required about a dozen meetings with lawyers, financial planners, and council members. Then there’s the real estate and the business. I’m drowning in paperwork.

“Pay attention, dude,” Charlie says, peering up from our game of checkers.

“Sorry, buddy. I’m a little out of it today.”

“I’d say,” he deadpans.

I laugh, a big belly laugh that I haven’t done in so long. It feels good.

“Okay, okay. But after this game, I need to meet with some people in the office.”

“Because you work here now?” Charlie asks.

“Something like that,” I tell him.

After Charlie hands me my ass in checkers, I sit in on the board meeting. It’s not really my thing, but they insisted after I made my donation.

That was probably one of the best days of my life, when I came here and delivered the check. It was the very first thing I did after I took over my trust.

I make my way out to the parking lot and see her again. This time I know it’s not my imagination. It’s Jules in the flesh, leaning up against my motorcycle.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my cool. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her and I have to fight to stay put.

“Hey,” she answers with a tiny smile on her lips.

God, I’ve missed her.