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Looking into those cobalt pools sucked me right back in, reminders of the ocean water, the days we spent at Florida beaches wrapped around one another in the rolling waves. They brought back all the feelings I’d sworn to myself I would never allow myself again.
Every inch of him seems to hold a memory I’ve stored in the recess of my mind. They’re flooding back to me now that they’ve been rekindled for even the briefest of moments. The more I try not to think about them, the more vivid the recollections become as if my body is operating at some primitive level focused only on its survival.
I’m pissed at myself for letting him affect me like this. I’m disappointed in me. I was doing pretty well, on the surface, until he went and called me ‘gorgeous girl.’ Then the dam broke, and the riptide was set free.
Naive girl.
Still, I’ve paced my flat half the day, run the data, and there’s no excuse I can feed myself for not taking this job. Further, I’m not going to run away anymore or stay hidden in my own little world. He doesn’t get to win.
Sick of this shit.
So very, very sick of it.
I am better than this. He doesn’t get to ruin the next six years of my life, too. He is the one who left me. He can hide from me if anything.
I pick up my cell and dial Mom to tell her the news. If I tell her, then I can’t back out of the job at the last minute. It will become real, and there won’t be any going back. I need to take control.
“Hi, honey,” I can feel Mom smiling through the phone at me the second she answers.
“Hi, Mom.”
I stall for the next ten minutes or so, chatting about the London weather and trivial nonsense. She tells me about their latest move to Delaware to the Dover Air Force Base
I’ve lost track of the number of moves at this point. Even if I wanted to return to the States, it’s not like I have a home there. My old bedroom was packed up and discarded half a dozen transfers ago.
I often wonder why Mom puts up with the military life. Once upon a time, she was going to be a chemist. It was her who made me fall in love with the sciences as a little girl. But instead, Mom opted for the life of a military wife, supported the Major General, and raised me.
Finally, I force myself to concentrate on the task at hand and bite the bullet if, for no other reason, then to move past the growing pit in my stomach.
“So, I got a job offer.”
“You did? And here we’ve been wasting time talking about your boring old parents. Tell me all about it? What company has snatched you up?”
“Imperium,” I blurt out without hesitation.
Take that, bandage. Ripped you right off. I mean business.
“Imp… you mean…?” Mom pauses.
“Yes, Imperium. The F1 team.”
“Oh,” there’s a long, uncomfortable pause where my mother smartly chooses her next words, “that’s wonderful, honey. What position were you offered?”
“Tire and Performance Engineer,” I proudly state. If I fake my confidence long enough, perhaps I will even start believing it myself.
I tell mom about the position and the laboratory, and all the things that I remind myself are exciting about this job, but I know she’s politely ignoring the elephant in the room.
Eventually, there is a silent pause that I refuse to fill, and Mom is forced to spit it out, “And… will you be okay with Cole being there?”
“Yep,” I lie. “I saw him before the interview, in fact.”
“You did? How did it go? What did he say?” There’s panic or pity in her voice, hard to tell which because both are warranted.
I’m certainly not going to tell her I was both incredibly turned on and then later dry heaved in the parking lot. Because I can’t even explain how my body pulled that hat trick.
How do you explain when someone sucks away all the air in the room, turns your brain into mush, both excites and terrifies you? Why is a part of my body willing to cast aside the years of torment and still gravitate toward him like fire sucking in the oxygen it needs to burn?
“It was fine, Mom. It was a long time ago, and it’s time to move on. He’s certainly over it, he said we were just kids having fun.”
