No. Not on your life, and I can’t believe that every one of these shameful sobs are over Ben’s decision to leave.
I pull away from Eric, sucking back the tears from continuing to fall down my cheeks. I am overcome with emotion I don’t fully understand. I am angry with Ben for leaving, but I am mostly mad at myself for letting it get to this point. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought by being closed off and guarded I was protecting myself, but really all I did was push Ben to his breaking point.
In every relationship I have ever been in, whether it was Marco, Will, or Donny, not one of them ever stood a chance. I was my own worst enemy and never let anyone of them get too close. In the end, they all ended things with me because I just could not open up. Just like Ben. They had enough of dealing with my insecurities. For some reason, I could never accept that someone, especially someone like Ben would ever love me. But by him choosing to leave without saying goodbye - enough said. I have done it again. I have pushed him away and I have lost him forever.
“Are you going to be okay?” Eric asks, bringing me back to reality.
“I’m fine.” I say, and wipe away the last remaining tears from my cheeks.
I watch them share a concerned glance, when Eric sighs, “We’ll see you later then?”
I nod and walk away with hunched shoulders and burning red eyes. There is nothing I can do, and this time, I know none of this is a game to Ben. It is really over.
Chapter 20
The next day, I sit alone and secluded at the lobby bar patiently waiting for the shuttle to arrive. I twiddle my thumbs and watch a soccer game blaring from the flat-screen behind the bartender as I casually sip my pinna colada. Of course I still feel like a basket case after I spent yesterday locked in our villa, hidden under the covers and ordering room service. I watched Spanish re-runs of “Friends” and emotionally ate a greasy burger and fries while everyone else enjoyed their last day in paradise. So today, I thought I owed it to myself to bask in the heat from the Costa Rican sun. Instead of crying alone in the bathroom and writing letters of apology to Jessica and Michael.
“Want another?” the bartender asks as he wipes down the countertop.
“Might as well.” I sigh and slurp the remaining slush, before I slide my empty glass over to him.
“Why so down Sinorita?” the bartender nods with narrowed eyes, “You’re too beautiful for a frown.”
“Thanks” I mutter as he slides me a new drink. I really don’t want to sound unpleasant, but I know I do.
“I made it a double. I hope that’s okay.” He says and gives me a wink.
“That’s great actually.” I say with a half smile.
The bartender jerks his head to the side when a bunch of footsteps echo behind us and trek up the stairs and into the lobby. I turn around and follow his gaze, silently watching from a distance as Jessica, Michael and their hundred or so guests check out at the front desk. They are forced to make their way past me, but ignore me as if I am invisible. I decide I can handle Jessica and Michael’s blatant disregard. But even her pleasant Aunt Florence has provided me with the coldest of shoulders. Then when Michael’s prude and snobbish mother quickly slides into the bar stool a few seats away from mine. I look over and give her a polite smile. I am grasping for any type of human acknowledgement, hoping she will return a grin, but no such luck.
I become tense and infuriated, turning my back to her and grumble that this is useless. No one would ever disobey Jessica by speaking to me. Who am I kidding? I loathe in some self-pity and start to feel like the once awkward and dorky Megan who was isolated during her elementary school days, until Jessica chose to befriend me. I swear the only reason she even gave me the time of day was because she figured if we were friends, I would let her copy all my answers on our tests, which somehow I was suckered into doing on more than one occasion.
Now here we both are, all these years acting like complete strangers over something that could