Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,44

foot on the floor in a way that made my agitation boil, and made me tap my phone on my palm even more. We were each in our own worlds, tapping away. We were so physically close to each other, and yet so far away. All alone in our own worlds and—

Fuck!

A loud screeching noise ripped me from my thoughts. My stomach flew into my head, hot and red and choking as the lift plummeted. I opened my mouth and screamed as we fell so fast I felt like I was going to pass out.

I was going to die!

I was sure of it. And in that moment the only thought I had was that I would never see what was inside that envelope. And never know what my father had said to me . . .

CHAPTER 20

I gripped the envelope in my hands tightly and turned to Cujo. He was looking at me as if waiting for something. As if there was food in the envelope. I shook my head and slipped it back into my handbag.

“I guess meditation is not my thing,” I said to him, pushing myself off the tree trunk. “Guess we’ll just go back to the hotel and sit there. And sit there and stare at the ceiling. And sit there and wait and wait and wait . . .” The need to reach out and touch my phone was so overwhelming again. The thought that I would go back to an empty room, alone, and have no way to contact the outside world, or distract me from what was going on inside, was killing me.

“You know, screw space! I mean, really? What the hell is so special about it anyway that we have to point these temperamental satellites at it? What kind of high-tech satellites get disrupted by a little Wi-Fi anyway? And what more do we need to know about space? It’s a bunch of stars, okay! Stars!” I said to Cujo and started walking. He followed right behind me. I walked faster as this feeling of messy anger started rising inside me. I didn’t know what I was angry about, exactly. Maybe everything. “And screw meditation. Thinking about nothing . . . What is that? Bashing brass bowls about, what good does that do? I can’t believe I ever thought I could be some kind of spiritual blogger. Screw crystals. Screw tie-dye and definitely screw purple. And it’s not like we were thinking of nothing anyway. That Cheryl was making me think of things I don’t want to think of.”

I took a deep breath to continue my rant. A rant that was making me feel slightly better. Cujo was a good listener. “The past is in the past, right? Motivation Monday, let’s move on! Let’s look to the future and better ourselves. That is what people expect from us. No one wants to come to my Insta and see me dwelling on the past. People want to see me smiling and squatting and eating smoothies and kissing Kyle. That’s what they want and that is what I give them! Kyle says that we have to project an image of success at all times. We need to be aspirational and motivational and always strive to be the best people we can be. Our Massive, Explosive, Smash Through Best™! That’s what’s important, right?”

I walked faster and the muscles in my legs started burning and it felt good, because at least it was distracting me from the painful feelings that were swelling inside me. And all this thinking of Kyle and our relationship was making me feel somewhat mad. But it was also making me think. My sister’s words echoed in my head . . . narcissistic user.

I stopped walking for a moment and turned to Cujo. He sat down and looked up at me. “Maybe . . .” My voice was softer this time. Less frantic, more thoughtful. “Maybe, okay I’ll admit this, maybe things with Kyle weren’t as good as I thought they were. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised by the break-up.” My stomach knotted and I suddenly felt bad for saying that. I felt like I needed to defend Kyle and our relationship in some way. And so I did. “It’s just that he was very driven and ambitious, okay? We both were. He was always pushing me to be a better person. Is that so bad?” I asked Cujo, who obviously didn’t respond. “It’s not that he didn’t like me