Banging Reaper (21 page)

It’s 5:45 when I arrive at Angilos. I’m fifteen minutes late. Shit.

The restaurant is small and cozy, squeezed between two high-end boutiques. I usually don’t come to this part of town, but it looks nice. The streets are clean, there are trees lining the sidewalks, and all the people I’ve seen so far are well dressed.

There’s patio seating out front, but all the tables are empty. He’s probably inside, I ensure myself. I take a moment to straighten my skirt and then hurry through the front entrance.

Inside the atmosphere is warm and more intimate. Lighting comes from domed chandeliers and the small tables are covered in white linen table cloths. I smell basil, warm bread, and garlic. Maybe I could manage to stomach a bite or two after all.

I scan each table, there are only a couple of other couples. It is still a bit early for dinner.

My heart drops. He’s not here. Unless he’s in the bathroom.

There’s a pretty young hostess standing at a podium, waiting to greet me. I look down at my phone and send AJ another text.

Me
: Hey, I’m here. I don’t see you. Do we have a reservation?

“Hello, miss. Do you have a reservation?”

I peek up from my phone and smile at the hostess politely while shaking my head. I then look around the restaurant, again, hoping I missed him the first time. Still, I don’t see him. But maybe there’s another seating area?

I wait for AJ to get back to me. Two minutes tick by and none of the messages I’ve sent him are even marked as read. Something is wrong, I just know it.

I was worried about running late and making a bad impression, I didn’t even consider he would stand me up. But it’s seriously looking like he has.

The hostess has been doing that polite ignoring me thing. Out of the corner of my eyes I’ve seen her shuffle and reshuffle the menus.

“Hi,” I say, tentatively as I approach the podium to get her attention. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone, but he’s not here yet.”

“Would you like to have a table while you wait?” she asks me sweetly.

“Yes, that will be nice, thank you.”

She leads me to a table up front which is good because I’ll see AJ as soon as he walks in. Handing me a menu, she leaves another on the table for my expected guest, and walks off, disappearing through a set of double doors I assume lead to the kitchen.

I take my time looking over the menu. Every ten seconds I’m checking my phone, hoping, praying something, anything has happened. Dead silence.

I make it through a basket of garlic breadsticks when I get the idea to check my phone and make sure it’s still working. After texting and leaving myself a voicemail, I come to the depressing conclusion that it still is.

As the hour grows later, more and more people fill the restaurant, mostly couples. I have dinner, a bowl of alfredo pasta, but I don’t even taste it. I eat it because I’d feel guilty if I didn’t and it’s something to do while I wait.

All in all, I spend around two hours waiting for AJ to appear before they ask me to leave. The dinner rush is in full swing now, and the front is packed with people waiting for a table.

I manage to keep it together at I catch a bus back to my place. I make it home by convincing myself that any moment now he’s going to call me and text me. Something came up. Something happened. He wouldn’t intentionally do this to me.

I will not cry. I will not be weak. I repeat that to myself during the bus ride home. I will not be weak. I may be young, but I’m strong. Don’t think of messing with me creepy dude with a Mohawk sitting across from me.

I make it to my building, up the front steps, then the five flights of stairs and to my door, unlocking it without a single tear. I walk into my apartment, shut the door, and deadbolt it. Now I’m safe.

It all comes gushing out, tears upon tears. I drop my purse but keep my phone with me as I walk into my bedroom. Through the blur of tears, I manage to plug my charger into my phone and then crawl into my bed still dressed. I cry myself to sleep. I never thought AJ would do this to me.

I wake up suddenly. I sit up in bed, instantly awake, hoping yesterday had been a bad dream.

I’m awake, but my eyes are tired. I cried all night until I fell asleep but still there is hope. I’ll check my phone and there will be the usual greeting from AJ. He always wishes me a “Good morning, gorgeous.”

Since AJ and I started talking, he’s always gone out of his way to reach out to me, to pursue me. Not only does he wish me good morning and bid me a good night, but he randomly texts me throughout the day to show he’s thinking of me.

The sun is beaming brightly through my lace curtains. Today is a new day.

My phone is charging on my bedside table. The first thing I do is grab it. It’s a quarter after eight. There are no new messages. What the fuck?

I scroll through the messages I sent AJ. Every single one of them is now marked as read. So he’s looked at them but hasn’t responded.

For a moment, I was actually worried that something terrible must have happened to him. He must have been in an accident and couldn’t contact me, that’s why there’s been nothing but silence on his end. But he’s read all my messages.

He knew I was going to be at the restaurant and he never showed up. Its official, he stood me up. It hurts wicked bad.

Now today isn’t looking so good. Go away sun, you’re no longer wanted. All I want to do is hide under my covers and sleep until I feel better. I don’t think I’ll ever feel better.

It’s Thursday, I have to work. If I call in sick, they’ll expect a doctor’s note. Otherwise, calling off is just the excuse my stepfather needs to renege on our agreement. He’ll be able to justify being an ass.

It just doesn’t make any sense. Somehow I get my butt out of bed and zombie walk to the kitchen for some coffee. I’m hurt, but I still don’t understand how this happened. It doesn’t process.

How, after all this time, after all we’ve shared together could AJ stand me up? I would have never thought him capable of it.

He came after me. I was not interested in a serious relationship two months ago when we first started chatting.

I was just lonely when I signed up for the free local dating site, Shoot Me Cupid. I didn’t expect to get much out of it. The majority of my friends have gone off to college. The one or two who have stuck around like me are usually busy with their kids.

I signed up on Shoot Me Cupid with the clear status, bolded and everything, that I was only seeking friends. Of course, creep after creep were hitting me up, looking for casual sex.

And there were dick pics. Disgusting, eye-searing images that will forever scar me. I shudder just thinking about them.

For the most part, the site was a bust. After a while, I only checked my messages once a month.

I missed AJ’s first private message by two weeks. In fact, I remember quite vividly that I was afraid to open his message. It was like: Please don’t be a dick pic, please. Please, oh, please I don’t want to see your two inches of dangling fury!

I also remember quite vividly what his message said.

AJ
: Hey beautiful. Are you interested in a serious relationship yet?

At first I thought perhaps he had accidently sent me that message. It must have been for someone else. I’d never been called beautiful before. He couldn’t be referring to me. Yet…

I checked out his profile. He was very good looking. I mean like heart-stopping, mouthwatering, how you doin’ baby? Bright white smile. Darling dimples. Warm chocolate eyes that smoldered me even through the glare of my phone screen.

There was picture after picture of him doing fun things. Hanging out with friends. Traveling and enjoying life. He was definitely one of the popular guys in high school who grew into a handsome man with the world at his feet.

The more I checked out his profile, the more confused I became. What was a guy like him doing on a free dating website? Why was he reaching out to me? I’m not ugly by any means, but I’m not the hottest gal around either. He was way out of my league. I always believed that that kind of guy only dated supermodels or cheerleaders, not average girl next door types like me.

I nearly chewed through my lip while I mulled over responding to him. All the signs pointed to it being a mistake. My gut told me it was a mistake. But there was a slim, irrational chance he was interested in little ol’ me.

What did I have to lose? With the computer between us, I could protect my dignity. What was the worst that could happen? I talked myself into it.

Me
: Not yet. Check back in a week.

I checked my messages every five minutes that night. He didn’t answer back.

The next day, I checked every hour. Then, it became whenever I was bored the rest of the week.

I was almost convinced he was never going to respond. One exact week passed. It must be as I originally expected, a mistake. Still, I kept checking every day.

Two days later he finally sent me another private message.

AJ
: How about now? It’s been a week.

The coffee is ready for me. I program the maker to brew a fresh pot every morning. I dump in a few teaspoons of sugar for an extra boost. My blood sugar needs it. No breakfast for me this morning, I’m too depressed to eat.

AJ and I hit it off right away. It was too weird how much he had in common. It was too perfect. We shared the same favorite band, the same favorite TV shows, books, and movies. We both love cats and only tolerate dogs. One day we both want to have big families, with lots of love and lots of kids.

It was surreal how alike we were, how much he had in common. We both had parents who divorced and remarried. Our stepparents are total jerks. Rich jerks used to bossing people around and getting their way. He doesn’t get along with his stepbrother, I don’t get along with mine. It was so impossible how much we had in common, so unbelievable that it became believable.

There was no way he could have guessed all that stuff about me. I don’t keep a diary or journal. My social media posts are mostly pictures of cute cats doing silly things. I once knew a girl in high school who had some very intimate pictures leaked all over the web. She became a social pariah, a cautionary tale to the rest of us. The internet is not safe and there are millions of strangers who want to see our boobies.

I guard my privacy. If you want to get to know me, you have to actually get to know me. Unless he was a CSA spy or a psychic, there was no way he could know or just guess all those things we shared together.

Up until yesterday, I believed there was only one explanation for it. We were meant to be.

It’s funny how being told how beautiful you are every day can affect your mood and personality.

I drain my cup of coffee, the last sip is too sweet. Then I shuffle to my bathroom to put some makeup on.

Looking in the mirror, I brush my hair out of me face. Am I still beautiful? Even without AJ telling me? Was it all a lie?

I look tired, but I don’t have enough energy to put on a full face. I rub some foundation over my face and brush on some mascara. My goal is simply not to scare the innocent people that have to ride the bus with me. It takes more effort than it should to do even this.

I should have known. All the signs were there. I feel so stupid.

AJ reached out to me, he showed interest in me. He got me to like him, but he never wanted to meet in person. He was always too busy, and from his pictures I understood. Yet why give me the impression he wanted a relationship if he could never find the time for a day?

After the first couple of tries of attempting to meet up with him I gave up. I figured he’d ask me out when he found the time. He eventually found it.

I almost break down on the bus. I have to close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I will not cry in public, dammit. I will not cry.

I have to stop thinking about it because the more I think about it, the more I analyze it. The more I analyze it, the more I pick it apart, and the more and more I feel really stupid.

I fell in love with someone who wasn’t real. I opened up to him. Told him things I’d never told anyone else. Shared with him my innermost, most private secrets. And he wasn’t real.

FML

If AJ was real, he would have waited at the restaurant. He would have texted me back. He would have called me.

But AJ was just a fantasy. An idea of what I wanted. A manifestation of what I thought I needed.

And I’m just a fucking idiot.

***

Work should be hard, but it’s actually just the distraction I need. I focus on the files, on the names, and leave my phone and thoughts of AJ in my purse on my desk.

It’s mind-numbing work, exactly what my mind is needing. The office buzzes around me with activity. When I file, I become part of the background, blending in with the scenery. The others that work in the office just walk on past, ignoring me as I work through the cabinets, treating me as if I don’t exist. That’s how I like it. Today especially.

I fall into a rhythm of where I’m going without actually thinking about what I’m doing. I find my Zen. I’m actually disappointed when I reach the end of the stack. I wish there was more. After locking up the cabinets, I turn and walk back to my office.

I’m putting on my jacket, getting ready to leave when I check my phone out of pure habit. I have one new message.