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Out the corner of my eye I spotted an envelope under the slit of my door. It hadn’t been there when I first arrived home, and it hadn’t been there a few hours ago when I ordered my dinner.
Confused, I walked over and picked it up.
It was an official court summons to testify in a New York hearing, but it wasn’t addressed to my new name. It was addressed to Liam Henderson.
Remedy (n.):
The means to achieve justice in any matter in which legal rights are involved.
Aubrey
The Firebird.
Jewels.
Swan Lake.
I wrote down the roles I wanted to audition for in my planner, smiling as I ran my hands across my acceptance letter for the umpteenth time. I had ten copies of it—two of them were framed, seven were for inspiration whenever I was feeling down, and one was for my parents. (I just hadn’t had the time or energy to draft an “I f**king told you so” letter to mail with it.)
I looked at the clock on my wall and checked my phone, trying to suppress the butterflies that were fluttering around my stomach.
The guy I was now dating, Brian—a fellow dancer in the company, was supposed to call me with something important he wanted to talk about.
Ever since I met him, he’d been trying his hardest to woo me—taking me on dates in between rehearsals, joining me as I danced on rooftops and icy park benches. He was kind, sweet, funny, and the perfect example of what it meant to be a gentleman.
He was like the nice guy in the Old Hollywood movies, the type that held your hand for no reason at all, the type that walked you to your door and waited until you were completely inside before stepping away. He was the type that kissed you—softly and tenderly, whispering that he liked your lips, but never taking things any further.
In other words, he was nothing like Andrew.
Nothing like.
Even though his kisses never left me panting and wet, and his touches never set my nerves on fire, he never made me feel like shit.
My phone vibrated and I looked at the screen. Brian.
“Did you receive the roses I sent you today?”
I grinned, looking over at the red and white blooms on my fireplace.
“Yes.” I texted back. “Thank you very much. I love them.”
“I placed something else in the vase for you, too...You should use it to relax tonight. I’ll be calling you after I get out of rehearsal.”
“Looking forward to it.” I added a smiley face at the end of my text and walked over to the vase, lifting the flowers up by their stems. There was a huge packet of pink bath beads and rose petals with a handwritten note across the front:
“The next time you take a bath…Think about me…
—Brian”
My heart fluttered and I couldn’t help but want to immediately take him up on the idea. I slipped out of my clothes and headed into the bathroom, tossing the beads under rushing water.
As I let down my hair, I turned the volume on my ringer to the highest setting, and before I could set it down, I noticed a new email. Andrew.
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, as it always did when one of his sporadic emails or calls graced my screen.
Everything in me told me not to open it, to continue ignoring him, and to let him feel just how alone and underappreciated I felt months ago, but I couldn’t help it.
Subject: Thoreau & Alyssa.
