Bad Timing

XXXVII

Those two minutes are the worst. We sit on my bed anticipating the outcome.
"So when did you get engaged?" Ross asks.
I never thought I would be here with Ross like this.
"May. Right after Dean's graduation. We want to get married before he's off to med school next month. Quick engagement," I smile thinking about dean but then frown thinking about how Ross might feel.
"Congrats," he smiles.
"Are you still with Annie?" I inquire.
"No," he laughs, "I realized that all she really was to me was nice. And that's it. I'm single now."
"And UCSB?"
"You were right. I did pass all of my classes. Going into my Junior year. How's Stanford?" He murmurs and fiddles with the detailing on my bedspread.
"Still great, can't believe this next year is going to be my last year. I'm actually interned at the New York Times this summer," I say excitedly.
"No way, Claire! That's always been your dream! I'm so proud of you!" He exclaims.
"Thank you!" I smile.
My phone buzzes. Timers done.
I look at Ross before I take the test off my nightstand.
"It's ok. You're in a much better position than you were before," he flashes his uneven grin.
Not Pregnant.
I exhale deeply and tell Ross.
"Happy or Sad?" He asks.
I'm happy. Is that a bad thing?
"I don't know," I lie, "I think I might be a little relieved, is that bad?"
"No. You're life, you're career is just getting started. And I doubt Dean would want a pregnant wife his first year of med school," Ross chuckles a little.
I know he knows what I'm thinking, he always seems to know.
"Who let us get so old?" I shake my head in disbelief.
"You're room looks so different," Ross notices. His eyes graze the perimeter. He's right.
There are no more polaroids of me and my friends. The vanity isn't covered in a layer of glitter eyeshadow. My bedspread is no longer a turquoise color, now just a plain white. There is no postcard wall, all the postcards now have a special drawer in mine and Dean's apartment in California. We are planning on making our own postcard wall.
"I cleaned it," I joke, thinking back to high school when there was always at least one pile of clothes somewhere on the ground.
Ross rolls his eyes and laughs. His eyes squint and I notice they have matured since I last saw him. His eyes, I'll never not love those eyes.
Wait- where did that come from?
I must be feeling nostalgic. Every thing was so dramatic back then. Granted I was in a secret relationship. Now my life is so laid back, so normal.
Ross's hair isn't shaggy anymore. It's shorter, the shortest I've seen it.
"I'm glad you didn't cut your curls," I smile taking notice to the cut.
"Oh never. I would have to buzz my hair to get rid of them," he says and runs his hands through the jet back curls.
"You're hair's different too," I watch as his eyes scan the brown hair that rests on my head and then meet mine again.
"Yeah darker," I play with the ends.
Truly in my heart I love Dean. I love the way he is. Can it be as simple as that? I love the way he exists. I love littler things about him of course but just the way he is, I love.
I find myself having to remind my body that my heart really loves Dean when I'm with Ross and I feel like I shouldn't.
Part of me will always love the experiences I shared with Ross, just like how part of me does the same with Ian. Part of me loves the person I was with Ross.
Part of me doesn't love the person I am with Dean. Why? I can't put my finger on it.
I love the way Dean exists. I love the way I exist. But I don't know if I love the way we exist together.
He doesn't turn me into a bad person. In fact, he doesn't really turn me into anything at all. There are times where I see a watered down version of my past self, that's always fun to realize.
"Claire," I take notice to Ross's hands. His right hand finds itself on my left cheek while his left hand props himself up on my bed.
"What are you doing?" My voice is barely a whisper.
I truly don't know what he is doing, but I don't want to interject enough to the point where he stops.
"There are so many things I wish I could say to you," his smile is faint and hard to make out with the only light source coming from the bathroom.
"Why only wish? Why don't you say them?"
"Because you're happy. You're happy with how your life is working out and I don't want my words, even for one second, to cause you to doubt your happiness," his eyes bore into mine and I feel transparent. As if he could watch his words being processed in my brain.
I rest my forehead against his while our hands find their way to intertwine with one another. I have said goodbye to Ross more times than I can remember. All of the other times I thought deep down I would see him again and maybe it would be different. Maybe for the first time in our lives we would be able to be together.
But I've moved on. I've found love. Love that is safe, love that is going to last. Ross may be my soulmate but I'm coming to terms with the fact that you don't always end up with your soulmate.
"I knew I wanted you from the moment I walked into MacGregor's class late and sat behind you. I kick myself every day for not kissing you at Hunter's first party. I kick myself for asking Amber out after that night in Tavia's tree house," I'm crying into Ross's denim jacket at this point, his hand his stroking the back of my head.
"I- I," I try to tell him I don't want to get married unless it's to him but I stop myself. That sentence deserves to be kept in the deepest part of my brain, even if it is true.
"You're going to make the most beautiful bride, Claire Dyer," Ross's lips quiver as tears start to show themselves in his eyes. He looks broken, I bet I look the same.
Ross stands up and I wipe my face dry even though I'm still crying. We walk down the stairs and he stops in front of the door.
I wrap my arms around his neck as his wrap around my waist and hold me tight. Ross presses his lips against my cheek and I lean into it.
"I'll be seeing you, ok?" He tries to smile. I simply nod my head, unable to speak and the tears stream steadily down my face.