Page 132 of Let’s Make a Scene
“Technically, on the kitchen floor.”
“Fucking hell.” Patty looks awestruck.
Hannah grimaces. “Not very hygienic, is it?”
“Oh my god,” Liam whispers. “The power that kissing scene has. The MTV thing goes viral like every six months. No wonder you and Jack were powerless to resist.”
“It wasn’t the kissing scene,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Or it sort of was, but we were both so angry with each other and things got a bit heated, and it just happened.”
“Hate sex.” Patty nods wisely. “Hot.”
“Was it good?” Arjun asks. “What?” He says when the others look at him. “You all want to know.”
“It was the best sex I’ve ever had, until the night before last.”
They all take a moment to digest this.
“Okay,” Hannah says, after several deep breaths. “So you had very good, very hot, angry sex thirteen years ago. But what happened afterward? And what happened this week?”
I fill them in on all the details. It’s a messy, meandering story and it contains several segues on my part where I try to explain the shambles that is my mental state, and several more on their part, which revolve around questions like “Why would you say that?”, “Why would you do that?”, “Did he really pick you up with one arm?” (breathless), and “How big?!”
“So he said he wants you to be together?” Hannah says slowly. “To start over?”
“That’s right. And then there’s the love letter.”
“The love letter?” Patty says blankly. “Is that slang for something? Is it a sex thing I don’t know about?” She pouts. “I really like to stay up-to-date on these matters. Oh! Is this like a historical kink thing? They used to call condoms French letters, right?”
“No, he literally wrote me a love letter with a pen and a piece of paper so that I can keep it in a box and pull it out when we’re old and gray to show our grandchildren.” I’m crying now, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of them.
“Did he say that?” Hannah asks, dazed.
“No, but I know him; that’s what he meant.”
“And just to clarify…” Liam says slowly. “That’s… bad?”
“No,” I sniffle. “It’s wonderful.”
“Right.” Liam nods wisely before looking to the others in confusion. “So you’re unhappy because…” he trails off, obviously hoping I’ll finish the sentence.
“I don’t know!” I say. “That’s the whole problem. What is wrong with me?”
Hannah gets up from her chair and comes to sit on the floor beside me. She puts her arms around me and holds me like she has many, many times over the years when I’ve been sad or desperate or heartsick. Only I’m none of those things now. I don’t know what I am. Broken, maybe.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Cyn,” she says softly. “Well, nothing that a qualified therapist couldn’t help you with.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll admit it might be time to get some help in that department.”
“Halle-fuckin-lujah!” Patty crows. “You might be the last resident of LA to enter therapy. I’ll give you a list of potential candidates. This is going to be so good for you.”
“But why am I so freaked-out over everything that’s happening with Jack?” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “It feels too good to be true, right? There’s no way something like this just… works out. I know that. You can love romance in a movie and know that stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life. Love letters and destiny and soul mates. It’s just a fantasy.”
My friends exchange another look. That’s happening a lot tonight.
“Cyn, it’s not like it’s a huge mystery…” Hannah says, finally. “You just got out of a… I don’t even want to call it a relationship.”
“More like a hostage situation,” Patty grumbles.
“With someone who massively screwed you over,” Hannah continues. “With the exception of Theo, you’ve made fairly consistently awful choices when it comes to romantic partners.”
