Eliza
I march up the sidewalk, toward the cab rank.
“I can’t believe I wasted my time even talking to him,” I mutter as I storm along. “Comes back here, says a few pretty words, and thinks I should drop to my knees and suck his second-hand dick. How many people has he fucked while we were apart? I’m done. So fucking done with him.” I’m banged hard on the shoulder by a man walking past me. “Ouch.”
“Sorry,” he calls.
I keep storming and see the cab rank up ahead. There are two people waiting in line but no cabs. It begins to sprinkle with rain.
“Oh, great, this is just what I need.”
How many times are you going to throw that in my face?
I narrow my eyes as my blood begins to boil, and this is exactly my point.
Nathan Mercer is a selfish fuckface who only cares about himself.
“Eliza!” he pants as he reaches me. He must have been running to find me.
I cross my arms in front of me. “Go away, I have nothing to say to you.”
“What?” He breathes heavily. “We haven’t finished talking.”
“Yes, we have.”
The rain begins to get heavier, and I roll my eyes. Is this for real? It hasn’t rained for weeks, and the one fucking night I’m out without a cab, it decides to come down.
“Why can’t we try again?” he asks.
“Because you’re an entitled asshole, that’s why.” I snap.
“How am I entitled?” He gasps.
“You break my fucking heart, turn up here and demand I come back to you at the snap of your fingers.”
“You said you loved me.”
“I said I loved you back then, asshole.”
He narrows his eyes. I know he doesn’t like being called an asshole. Well, too bad, because he is. “So, you don’t love me now?”
“No.” I stare straight ahead. “I don’t, actually.”
“Liar.”
“Just go away, Nathan.”
The rain begins to really come down.
“Are you fucking serious?” I cry to the Gods. I storm over to stand under an awning, and I take out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling an Uber. What does it look like?”
“Why are you being such a fucking bitch?” He whispers angrily.
I lower my phone and glare at him. “Your mouth is too big for your own good.”
His eyes bulge.
“You’re an ostrich.” I go back to my phone.
“What does that mean?”
“It means”-I huff-“that you bury your head in the sand, and that your eyeball is bigger than your fucking brain.”
“Listen.” He sneers, and the rain really begins to pour down now, bouncing up from the sidewalk and hitting us as we stand under the awning. It’s loud, and we have to yell to hear each other. “Okay, I asked you to come back to me. That doesn’t make me fucking stupid.”
“No. What makes you stupid is the fact that you think I would come back to you like this.”
He frowns and opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it again. I’ve got him.
I book my Uber, and put my phone back in my handbag.
“What do you want from me?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“So how do we fix this?”
“I don’t want to fix this.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “I’m one minute away from dragging you back into the fucking bar, Eliza. Tell me how to fucking fix this?” He growls in frustration.
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Nathan. You can be my friend but that’s it, and with your track record, I’m not even sure I want you as that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve been in a city where I know nobody for six months, and you haven’t fucking checked on me once. You’re a shitty friend, that’s what.”
He clenches his jaw as he glares at me.
“But that’s okay. I know you were busy.” I flick my hair over my collar as I stare straight ahead. I’m going for an Oscar here. I’m being overdramatic but to hell with it. He deserves it.
“Meaning what?”
My blood pressure rises to boiling point. “Let’s just say that your last six months look very different from mine.”
“Okay, right.” He throws his hands up in frustration. “So, let’s put each other through another six months of hell then, shall we? Because proving a fucking point is so much more important than being happy.” He yells as he loses control of himself.
I roll my eyes. “Go away.”
“I am away. I’ve flown all this way to see you and you won’t even talk to me.”
“And there it is again.” I smile to myself with a shake of my head. “Unfucking believable.”
“What?” he yells. “What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”
“It’s all about you, Nathan. Everything is all about you. For once…,” I yell, “just fucking once, can you put my wishes before your own?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to be friends. Listen to me when I speak. I can’t say it any clearer than that. I want to be friends.”
“I don’t want you as a fucking friend, Eliza. I want you as my wife!” he shouts.
What?
He steps back as if shocked that he just said that out loud.
“Well, that’s not happening,” I say quietly. “Because at the moment, I only want a friend. Having you as a husband is the very last thing on my mind.”
His eyes hold mine.
“Friendship. Take it or leave it,” I say.
He clenches his jaw. “Leave it.”
“Like I knew you would.” The Uber pulls up. I get in and slam the door.
Nathan stands on the sidewalk, his face is murderous, and he glares at me as the car pulls out into the traffic.
I’m not even joking. Nathan Mercer really is an asshole.
* * *
Sleep: the wonder drug. I wish they sold it in bottles.
I walk down the sidewalk and smile. I’m feeling weirdly relaxed today.
I don’t feel regret. I don’t feel anxious at all about Nathan’s and my fight last night.
I feel in control. I feel like myself. Liberated, even.
Being a bitch is empowering.
I’ve been to the gym this morning. I did my last grocery shop, and now I’ve just bought another two cheap suitcases to take my extra things home.
I walk into my building and take the elevator to my floor. My phone pings with a message in my handbag. It’s probably the girls about tonight. I have my farewell dinner tonight at a restaurant, and I’m looking forward to it.
The elevator doors open. I wheel the empty suitcases down to my apartment and dump them next to my door. I take out my phone to see the text. It’s from Nathan.
Okay, fine.
Friends.
I twist my lips to stop myself from smiling. I reply.
Thank you.
Another text bounces in.
Can we have lunch?
I roll my eyes. Great. I throw my phone onto the couch and don’t reply. I flick the kettle on. Another text bounces in.
Friends eat lunches together,
you know?
I narrow my eyes. What will I reply with? I put my phone down again. God, he’s going to play on the friend’s thing now, isn’t he?
Another text bounces in.
This is your last chance to have lunch with an ostrich before he flies out this afternoon.
I smile at his ostrich analogy. Okay, he’s going home. There’s no chance of me giving in, and he gets it.
I text back.
Fine.
Where do you want to meet?
A text comes back.
What do you feel like?
Hmm, he’s being nice today.
Meet me at Hugo’s on 42nd in an hour?
A reply comes straight back in.
Sounds good.
See you then.
I walk into Hugo’s at 1:00 p. m, and Nathan stands when I arrive. He’s at a table near the window.