Page 70 of The Frog Prince
I think about it a little longer and then decide just to go for it. I type a quick reply. “It’s actually a zoo, Mr. Fadden. We have one of everything here.” I hit “Send,” watch the e-mail disappear in my out-box, and as I do, I feel a flutter of nerves and anticipation.
Let’s see what happens now.
Then I do something I should have done ages ago: I go through my e-mail address book and delete Jean-Marc’s e-mail addy. I delete every record of his phone number and mailing address from every place I’ve written it. I delete him from my cell phone. I delete him as much as I can from my life.
Finished, I sit back and look at my desk, stacked with folders and files, Post-it notepads filled with scribbled scrawl, and I feel better.
I feel good.
Mom was wrong. I wasn’t lucky to have Jean-Marc. Jean-Marc was lucky to have me.
I leave my computer, grab a diet soda from the break room, and take the elevator downstairs, in need of fresh air.
Tessa’s nowhere in sight, but Josh is still downstairs, smoking a cigarette.
“Hey,” I say, joining him on the blue-painted railing. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
He exhales a stream of smoke, shakes his head. “I used to, years ago; then I quit, but started up again this week. It’s disgusting. It’ll kill me, I know.”
We’re silent a moment, and then Josh asks, “So what ever happened with Paul? Didn’t you two go out on Friday night?”
“Yeah.”
He taps the end of the cigarette, knocking off ash. “That good?”
I nod.
Josh shoots me a narrowed glance. “He can be a bit of a prick.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes narrow further. “What happened?”
I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to involve Josh. They’re friends. No need to complicate things. “Nothing.”
“Nothing, as in not good? Nothing as in, didn’t go out? Nothing as…?’
“Nothing.” I close my eyes, lift my face up to the sun, and suddenly it feels like forever since I was together and on top of the world. I want to be on top of the world again. I want that radiant, joyful, I’m-so-glad-to-be-alive feeling back.
Instead every day feels a decade long, and I know it’s because I think so much. Does everyone think this much? Does everyone want as much as I do?
Does anyone else worry that there won’t be more? Worry that maybe this is it, maybe this will be all there ever is?
I open my eyes, look down the street at the heavy traffic streaming past the convention center. There has to be more magic still, I think. Somewhere. All the happy endings and good things can’t just be at Disneyland. Adults need happy stories, too.
Josh leans over and smashes his cigarette in the sand. “You’re not going to see him again, are you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I look at Josh. “I thought you were friends.”
“I am. But that doesn’t mean he’s good for you. He’s a pain in the ass. So stay clear, okay?”
I wonder how much Josh knows. Probably more than he’ll ever say. I nod, grateful Josh is on my side for this one. “Okay.”
*