Such a Pretty Face by Annabelle Costa
Chapter 38
Brody has called me fifteen times since I left his apartment this morning. And he’s left countless text messages. I haven’t returned any of them.
I can’t be with him anymore. I don’t trust him. And even more importantly, the way he judged me was so unbelievably hurtful. To have the person I care about most call me out that way… It was horrible. Every time I think about it, I get that gnawing awful feeling in my belly.
Brody isn’t who I thought he was at all. I thought he was a sweet, slightly geeky computer programmer like me, who had a disability he was dealing with very well. Now I know the truth. He’s an alcoholic. He’s a player and a party animal. He slept with fifteen or sixteen women before he even turned twenty. He wasn’t sure because he couldn’t even remember.
That night, as I’m lying in bed, my phone rings. I assume it’s Brody, but then I see Camille’s number on the screen—I’ve been dodging her calls since that dinner with my parents. I hesitate for a moment, but I pick it up. Somehow I feel like talking to my big sister.
“Hi,” I say.
“Emily.” She sounds more hesitant than usual. “I need to talk to you.”
“Listen…”
“No, you listen.” Camille’s voice becomes serious. “I want to apologize for what happened at that dinner. I was totally out of line. I thought I was looking out for you, but I should’ve trusted you. If you like Brody and you say he’s changed, well, that’s all I need to hear. I won’t say another word about him.”
My sister’s kind words are enough to make me burst into tears. “We broke up.”
“What?”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “He’s been lying to me all along. Everything you said about him is true. He admitted he has a problem with drugs and alcohol. He even lied about the accident he had. He lied about everything.”
I can’t even bring myself to tell her about his accusations about his refrigerator. Even though that’s what hurts the most.
“I’m sorry,” Camille says. “I hate to say it, but that’s what I was worried about. In high school, everybody used to talk about what a mess he was. And he didn’t even care. He would fall asleep in class, cut class… I saw him smoking outside the school more than I saw him inside the school. One time we were at a party and he was so trashed, he dove into the swimming pool in all his clothes, and he passed out. Somebody had to drag him out of the pool. He could’ve died.” She sighs. “I found him at the end of the party, when he had sobered up just a little. I tried to talk to him because it seemed like nobody else was doing it. I told him I was worried about him. And he laughed in my face.”
I remember Brody told me about that night. How Camille told him she was worried about him. It turns out she was right to worry. She tried to help him, the same way she tried to help me avoid him. And I wouldn’t listen.
“I wanted to believe he had changed,” she says, “but… I just couldn’t imagine it. He was such a disaster.”
“Well,” I say, “you don’t have to worry. I’m done with him for good.”
“Good riddance,” Camille says. “And now I’m going to set you up with the greatest guy you’ve ever met. I promise.”
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m done with men.”
“Emily! Don’t be silly!”
“I mean it.” I clench my hands into fists. “I don’t want you to set me up. I just want to be alone.” Camille starts to protest again, but I say, “Really.”
“Fine,” she finally says. “For now. But I’m determined to help you find the perfect guy for you. It was definitely not Brody Nolan, but I promise you, he’s out there.”
There was a time when I might have believed her. But I don’t anymore. There’s nobody out there for me. I need to get used to being alone for the rest of my life.