Reckless Abandon(46)
A lot has happened in my life over the last nine months. I’m still living in the year from hell. It’s been nine months since I lost my brother. Nine months since I crushed my hand. And nine months since that douche with a flute left.
But it’s better.
Don’t assume I’m leaping off balconies and singing in the street. I still haven’t picked up or played an instrument since those two times in Italy.
A time I try not to think of.
What is better is that I am taking control of the situation. No more lying in bed wallowing. It’s time I try to make something out of this mess that is my life. The first step was getting a new apartment in a new city. Next, was finding a new job. After that—I have no idea.
Looking over at the coffee table I see a white envelope peering up at me. I put my salad bowl down and reach over for it. Inside is an invitation to the wedding of Leah Marie Paige and Adam Geoffrey Reingold.
A smile crosses my face. Those two crazy kids are finally getting married. Since they called off their summer wedding, everyone wondered when they would set a date again. Looks like a Christmas wedding is in order.
I can’t help but think back on that July trip with mixed emotions. When I arrived, I was half broken, on the mend from having my dreams torn apart and the devastation of losing Luke. I was going through the motions of life but I wasn’t living.
Then I met a man. An intense, complex, emotion extracting, sinful man who made me feel more in four days than I had in six months.
And then he played me like a fiddle.
Stupid fiddle.
I explained all of this to my shrink when I returned to Cedar Ridge. I booked a three-hour appointment and unloaded. Every feeling, every emotion and every ache that has burnt me since that fateful night in January, was put out there.
She didn’t seem impressed I had finally decided to open up. Instead, Dr. Schueler said my rendezvous in Italy set back all the progress we made with my PTSD. She wrote out a stack full of prescriptions and sent me on my merry way.
I, in turn, went home, tore them up and packed my bags.
It doesn’t take a world-renowned psychiatrist to see I needed out of Cedar Ridge. There were too many memories. I need to be far away from there and Pittsburgh and the reminders of all that was lost over the course of a weekend.
Maybe it wasn’t Asher that made me heal the way I did.
Maybe it was Capri.
Whatever it was, I needed to get away. At least for the time being.
My parents begged me to stay, but they know their headstrong little girl better than to expect her to listen. I was determined.
Shortly before I left for Italy, I sent my résumé out to various schools in the area looking for a teaching job. Since my hand is shot, I’d only be able to teach courses like Music Theory and Introduction to Music. It wasn’t what I wanted to do but it was better than living in my pajamas.
When I returned, I received an offer not to teach, but help run a music program in New York.
Having been enrolled in prestigious music schools my entire life, it seemed logical to put my knowledge to good use. Sure, it’s a lot of administration work but it’s perfect for my type-A personality. The program I am working on is brand new and just what I need to distract me for a year or two until I decide what my next plan of action is.
My cell phone rings from the side table next to the sofa. I lean over and grab it, seeing a pretty blonde with a bob and pale blue eyes looking back at me. I hit the green icon and say hello.
“How’s my little Carrie Bradshaw doing?” Leah pipes on the other end of the phone.
“I prefer Rachel Green. And for your information, I am curled up on the chesterfield, drinking a nice Pinot and listening to the soulful sounds of Joshua Bell.” I take a sip of my wine and twist my face a bit. I said it was a nice Pinot, not a great one.
“First, you are so a Monica. Second, the couch is awesome but you need to stop referring to it as ‘the chesterfield.’ It makes you sound like Grandma. Next, I’m jealous, and last . . . what was the last thing you said?”
I laugh into my sleeve. “Joshua Bell,” I remind her.
“Oh, yeah. Boring! Throw on some pop music and dance around in your underwear. That’s what I do.”
If Leah could see me she’d be privy to an eye roll. I know she dances around in her underwear. I grew up with her and witnessed it many times.
“I got the wedding invitation. Do I have to RSVP? You know I’m going.”
“Of course you’re going. My maid of honor has to be there. That’s actually why I’m calling. I decided I want my bachelorette party to be in, drum roll please,” Leah’s hands can be heard slapping a table on her end of the phone in a drum roll pattern. When they come to a halt, she shouts in her best game show voice, “New York City!”
My legs swing around from under me and hit the floor. “You’re coming here?” My voice squeaks in excitement. “When?”
“In a few weeks. Halloween gets crazy around here and of course there’s Thanks Conaughey weekend so that leaves the middle of the month as the best time.” Leah’s mouth crunches around a potato chip, the sound easily recognizable through the phone.
My toes dance at the thought of seeing Leah. I haven’t seen anyone in my family since I moved to New York. Even when I lived in Pittsburgh we saw each other at least once a month. “I will have to start researching the best places to go. I haven’t gone out since I’ve been here—”