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Chapter1
Bella
Ithink being ghosted is one of the lamest and cowardly ways to break up with someone. Lack of communication is one thing, but not giving the other person the opportunity for closure is cold. Imagine you’re walking along a path and all of a sudden you’re hit by a brick wall you didn’t even see someone putting up. That’s what it feels like to be ghosted. You wonder all the things you could’ve possibly done wrong and all the things you could’ve done better.
Which is why I’m crying into a bag of cheese doodles on my couch on a random Tuesday night. My girlfriend, well I guess my ex-girlfriend ended things with me by blocking me across social media and ignoring my phone calls. Sure we’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks but still. I’m still not sure entirely what I did wrong or why she couldn’t just talk to me. I swear it feels like some kind of cruel twenty-first century punishment. When I first noticed, my heart started racing so fast my apple watch gave me one of those obnoxious notifications. You know the one, it’s like ‘you’ve been sitting down but your heart rate is too high’. I’ve been getting those a lot lately. Most of the time when I think about Jenny or when I think about how I’ll probably never see her again or hear from her again. Fuck, there it goes again. You know, I really don’t appreciate this feature Apple. It’s like, doesn’t it know I’m heartbroken enough without a literal reminder from my heart?
“What’s going on?” Sara asks, walking into our shared apartment.
“Jenny ghosted me.” I sob.
“I always thought you were too good for her.” She shrugs and plops down on the couch next to me.
“You did?”
“Yeah, anyone who doesn’t like coming to their girlfriend’s apartment is weird. Just because her place was a little bigger doesn’t mean you should have to do all the traveling.” She sighs.
“That’s true.” I nod, it was frustrating that I was always the one going to the city instead of her visiting me at college. It’s not like I was in a dorm room or something, Sara and I shared the apartment during the school year. We each had our own bedroom and shared spaces. Plus it was rare Sara was ever even home.
“Plus, I was like never home. I think I only met her once on your birthday,” Sara adds and picks up my bag of cheese doodles. She takes a handful and shoves them in her mouth.
“That’s true too,” I agree. Jenny was kind of a shit girlfriend when it came down to it.
“So are you ready to go out and find someone new or is today when you need to sob about it?” She isn’t judgmental in her tone, but more so asking about what I need.
“I need to sob about it some more,” I admit. I’m not ready to be with anyone else yet, and I think that’s okay.
“Okay, let me know when you’re ready to get back out there.” Sara jumps up, kisses my forehead, and heads to her room.
Sara is the kind of friend I know I can count on but not one that necessarily hovers. She’ll give me the space I need to feel my feelings but she doesn’t necessarily want to be there while I feel them. I respect it. And I know if I really need her, she is just a knock away.
I decide to eat my Doritos in my room, from the comfort of my bed and in the privacy of where I don’t have to wear pants. Not that I can’t wear pants in the living room, but it is appreciated that I don’t. So I kick off my pants, throw them in the corner of my room, and climb into my bed. I am ready for this day to be over and for these feelings to be over.
* * *
Three mornings later,I feel like a person again. I’ve showered, eaten more than chips, and left my bedroom for class and to see friends. It’s safe to say I am over the ghosting situation and ready to move on. I am not the biggest fan of one night stands so I doubt I’ll want to have the kind of fun Sara wants me to have but I like going out. Sometimes she joins me and my best friends, Morgan and Ellie, for a night out. We all get along well together and we always end up having a good time.
Knocking on Sara’s door, I’m not surprised to find she’s not home. She is out a lot more these days and I know it is because of her job. She is a high paid escort. Not a hooker, she swears she never does anything like that. Just getting paid for a night out and a conversation is enough. It is hard not to be a little judgmental of her job. It is so foreign to me, and seems too good to be true. But time and time again, Sara books clients where they take her out for a nice meal, pay for her company only, and drop her back home with leftovers and a hearty tip. I’d be lying if I said the idea of working there hasn’t crossed my mind.
I hate living off my parents’ money and the small amount of income I have from summer jobs and savings. I can pay the rent and groceries but there’s barely leftover any money for me to get tattoos or do fun things. It is hard enough going to school across the country from where I grew up. But spending most of my time traveling down to the city isn’t helping. Visiting Morgan and Ellie whenever I can and exploring the city I’ll soon live in.
Sara gets home around ten, and I’m sitting at the dining room just finishing up some homework. She puts her leftovers in the fridge and then joins me at the table.
“How was dinner?”
“He was sweet, his wife died a few years ago and he was just lonely. We talked about his job and his family. He asked to see me again which is always a good sign and he was a great tipper.” She smiles. There’s no hint of shame or embarrassment on her face. I admire how she sees the job and I wish I could too. I wonder if it’s because of the way I was raised, or the stigma attached to her job. Either way, I wonder if I could ever open up to it.
“That’s good.” I smile.
“Are you ready to go out yet? Or are you still in mourning?”
“I’m ready.”
“Yay!” She cheers. “We’ll have to plan something for this weekend!”
“Okay.” I smile. I love when Sara picks the place, she always knows these cool and trendy places from the work she does.
“You don’t happen to know anyone else who might want to be an escort, do you? My boss is looking to expand a bit and I know you’re not interested but I thought you might have a friend or two who could use the money.”
