Nerd Girl (44 page)

“Seattle to London, Flight 62, is now boarding all passengers,” announced the SeaTac British Airways intercom. I brought only my backpack and my one carry on suitcase with me. I displayed my plane ticket to the ticket agent, took a deep breath, and walked down the tunnel towards the plane.

After Ryan and I broke up, I spent a day licking my wounds. I cried through the night and most of the day, until Anna came over after work and, being the wonderful sister and best friend she was, brought wine so I could drown my sorrows and have a loving shoulder to cry on.

The next day, I called Dexter and told him I was coming to visit him and Jamie in London. Dexter, who had known me since I was thirteen, had a decent understanding of why. I hadn’t told him all the details, but he knew me well enough to know that I was going to London for therapy.

I was taking a break and sticking my head in the sand and I would deal with all of everything when I got home. I didn’t even bother letting anyone but Anna know I was leaving town. No one at work cared anyways. I didn’t want to upset my mother. And I didn’t give a shit about Ryan at the moment. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay still in Seattle mulling over how I got royally fucked over; I needed to escape to somewhere, if only temporarily. London sounded like a good option.

I found my window seat in first class. I just had my heart broken into a million pieces and if I was going to London for therapy, I thought I might as well go all out and upgrade to a more comfortable seat. It cost me $2400. I tried to ignore the fact that I really should be saving my money, given my soon-to-be-unknown income status, but thanks to my financial advisor, I had enough money saved up to last me comfortably for six months in case of an emergency. I considered this an emergency.

I tried to get comfortable in my seat, put on my headphones and turned on my iPod. I shuffled through the albums and settled on Coldplay because I rarely paid attention to their lyrics. I needed something neutral that wasn’t going to remind me of Ryan; Coldplay worked well for that. I closed my eyes and wondered how I let this happen. I was back to where I started. My life was like Groundhog Day. It had only been five short months since
… well, since the last time I was here. In this emotional “here,” not on a plane. I couldn’t even make it six months without a relationship disaster.

I should never have gotten involved with Ryan. I wasn’t even looking to get involved with anyone, for God’s sake. I should’ve walked away after that awful morning when I ran into him and Catherine. Where I found myself today was really my own fault. I had only myself to blame by ignoring my own rules.

Obviously, something
must
be wrong with me. All in all, I was a healthy, well-adjusted person. I wasn’t mental, nor was I unattractive. I thought I was an intelligent woman with a good head on my shoulders. When I was with Ryan, I didn’t feel less than perfect. He made me feel so
… so damn content.

Argh! Julia, you really do need therapy. Professional therapy.
Not only was I talking in third person, now I was trying to convince myself that I was worthy. I felt like the poster child for those self-affirmation posters—”Like yourself, but don’t do what I did.”

I wanted to believe that Ryan really did fall in love with me. He broke off an engagement for me. He made some really difficult choices to be with me. I knew he had a responsibility to Catherine because of their history together and the guilt over her brother’s death, but Ryan overcame those obstacles to be with me. He said it himself once—I made him feel free. I guess the problem with that, though, is that free birds can easily fly away.

Regardless, he didn’t love me enough to stay with me or to fight for us. I couldn’t compete with his lifetime of responsibilities and his memories with Catherine. Ryan was just too good of a person. He wasn’t going to turn on Catherine, especially during a time when she needed him the most. Even if I were the most wonderful woman on the planet, I knew I could never compete with cancer.

God, I was a horrible person for even thinking that. No matter how shitty my life was, it was nothing compared to what Catherine was going through. I half-expected lightning to strike our plane down right now. I couldn’t even properly feel sorry for myself without a huge guilty conscience. I honestly didn’t know how to deal with all of my conflicting emotions. I didn’t know if my heart was ever going to recover from this.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked over to see the flight attendant asking me to remove my headphones.

“Can I get you anything to drink, ma’am?”

“Vodka.” I turned to look out the window and watched the rain fall onto the tarmac as our plane departed the gate.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Dexter moaned. “The universe is so unfair.”

Dexter and Jamie were both shaking their heads. We were in the middle of eating our dinner and I had just relayed the story of Ryan, Catherine, my job, Ryan, Catherine’s illness, and why I now found myself eating dinner at their flat in London.

“It’s the story of my life,” I said, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.

“You don’t deserve this, Julia. You’ve been dumped twice in one year. That totally sucks,” Dexter said sympathetically.

“Thanks,” I answered with a wry smile.

“Here, you need some more wine,” Jamie encouraged as he re-filled my glass.

Since I arrived mid-day, I knew the best way to fight jetlag was to just stay up all day—I went from the airport to the train station, where Dexter met me, to their flat to drop my luggage, and then we ran errands on foot. I was happy keeping Dexter company, and now, with the delightful combination of a lack of sleep, wine, and the rich seafood fettuccine in front me, I knew I was going to totally crash tonight. After Dexter and Jamie coaxed all the sordid details out of me, of course.

“I don’t think I’ve heard a more pathetic story,” Jamie lamented, drawing out the ‘or’ of his last word with his Scottish accent. “I mean, you can’t even hate him for what he did, can you? His decision was quite noble, actually. You just got the bloody hell end of the stick.”

“You know, I thought you guys were trying to cheer me up. So far, neither of you are doing a great job of it,” I teased, arching an eyebrow.

“We
are
going to cheer you up just as soon as we fully empathize with your current situation,” Dexter assured me. “I’m trying to digest how you’re even here and you haven’t thrown yourself off of a bridge yet.”

“Yes, we just want to fully appreciate how shitty your love life is and how the universe has cosmically and royally screwed you over before we try to even
attempt
cheering you,” Jamie added.

“My pathetic story is less pathetic than both of your attempts at cheering me up,” I said. I couldn’t help laughing, though.

“See, its working!” Dexter exclaimed. He held up his glass of wine and motioned for Jamie to do the same. They clinked their glasses together, celebrating their little success. I laughed again and added my glass to the celebration.

“We’re so good at this, Dexter. We should start a therapy club,” Jamie suggested, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

I couldn’t help laughing more. It felt good to smile again, even if it was only fleeting. “All right, guys, what are you two boys really going to do with your sad, pathetic friend this week, huh?”

“Sweet girl,” Dexter said endearingly, “you definitely came to the right place. Jamie and I are going to take great care of you. First of all, you should feel free to do whatever it is you feel the need to do. You can cry, get drunk, or have a shameless one night stand.”

“And we’ll support you.” Jamie winked in agreement.

“We can ride the Ferris wheel, sightsee, go to Buckingham Palace to see the Queen, go dancing, have lunch at the Ritz,” Dexter continued.

“I’d like to go to the National Gallery Museum again,” I said, adding my suggestion to our growing list.

“Then we’ll go to the National Gallery Museum,” Dexter confirmed.

I looked at Dexter and Jamie affectionately, tears welling up in my eyes. “Thank you. I love you both.”

“We love you too, Julia.” Dexter looked at me tenderly. “You’ll be just fine, sweet girl.”

After dinner, I texted Anna to let her know I made it to London safely. Dexter had set up their spare bedroom for me in their newly-remodeled home. The rooms were small, but still decent-sized for London standards. I hadn’t slept much in the last forty-eight hours and due to the combination of jetlag, a full stomach, and pure emotional and physical exhaustion, I fell asleep almost immediately.

Dexter and Jamie were true to their word—they kept me busy. It was almost ridiculous how focused they were on their mission. They were dead set on making sure I had no downtime. Someone was with me all the time, so I had no time to wallow. If Dexter had other obligations, then Jamie took over and vice versa. It was like I had a set of personal breakup bodyguards—saving me from my misery one tourist attraction at a time!

Over the next several days, we walked all over the city. I was pretty sure this was why they were in such great shape; they walked
everywhere.
We went on the famous London Eye situated on the bank of the River Thames. We ate lunch at a vegetarian restaurant in Covent Garden, one of my favorite neighborhoods in the city. We went to the National Gallery Museum, where I got lost in the multitudes of art history. Dexter and Jamie even took me to a drag queen fashion show, followed by nightclub hopping at gay bars in Soho. I loved going out with them to the bars. Gay men knew how to dance and they had so much fun doing it. And I never had to wait in line for the bathroom.

On Wednesday afternoon, a couple of days before I was scheduled to leave, I had the day to myself. Dexter had to work and Jamie had an appointment with a local magazine editor. Jamie occasionally freelanced and wrote articles for a men’s magazine. I planned to take a walk at Green Park and meet Dexter at the Ritz Carlton for lunch, which was located across the street from his office.

Since I arrived in London, Dexter and Jamie had kept me so busy and preoccupied, that I had little downtime to think about Ryan and to start feeling sorry for myself. He was always in the back of my mind, though. Keeping me busy helped to numb the pain, but I was sorely reminded how temporary it was anytime I was alone. My whole heart, body, and soul ached for him. I had no magic solution that would make me feel better this time. Even escaping to the other side of the world wasn’t helping me much. Sitting on a bench alone in the park, I could no longer keep the pain in my heart at bay. My emotional dam broke and I finally let my tears fall.

I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when I heard my phone signal a text. It was Dexter.

Dexter:
I’m in the Ritz lobby. Where r u?

Me:
Sorry – on my way. I’m sitting on a bench in Green Park - I can see the hotel from here

Dexter:
Oh – I can see you from here
:(

Dexter:
Don’t move - I’ll walk over

I looked up and saw Dexter waving to me in the distance. He had just stepped out of the hotel lobby onto the sidewalk in front of the park entrance. As I watched him saunter over to me, I admired his casual, metrosexual look. Dexter always looked so fashionably hip and put together. Today he was wearing a contemporary gray suit with a white pinstriped shirt, black belt and matching black leather shoes. He had a messenger bag slung diagonally over his shoulder and torso. I felt underdressed in my jeans, gray hoodie jacket, and white t-shirt.

I used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe away my remaining tears and sat back down on the bench, waiting for him to reach me.

“Uh oh,” he said in a gentle, empathetic voice. “Rough morning?”

I gave him a sad, pathetic smile. “You could say that.”

Dexter sat down on the bench next to me, crossing his legs and wrapping one arm around me. “You know, the first week after a breakup is always the worst, don’t you think?”

I nodded in agreement but didn’t offer up a reply.