habits of my heart (h.s.)

seventeen

New voicemail from Adam Davis

"Hey, Aly, it's your brother. My name's Adam, in case you forgot since you fell off the face of the earth. I'm not sure if Mom told you yet, but I'm coming up to New York this weekend for a visit. Hopefully you can find time in your busy schedule to hang out with your older brother. Also, you don't really have a choice. By the way, you're not still with that Ray guy, right? Cause I think I saw him at Fenway Park the other day with some girl, and she had a ring on her finger. I was ready to go and beat him up for you, but I couldn't remember if you were still together. Plus, my boss was there and I can't get fired. He got fat, though, if that makes you feel better. Dick.

Anyways, I'll text you when I arrive. Or maybe I won't, and I'll surprise you. Still deciding. I'll see you soon, Als. Don't do anything I wouldn't do--actually, don't do anything I would do either. Love you. Peace!"

I rolled my eyes at the voicemail from my brother, rubbing my eyes lazily. It was too early in the morning for me to properly register any of what he had just told me, especially since I was very much hungover.

One thing did stick out to me, though: Ray's engagement. It was likely that my brother had mistaken him for somebody else, since the two of them had only met a couple of times, but I figured I may as well check. And so, for the first time in four months, I typed Ray's name into Instagram. I didn't follow him anymore, but thankfully he was still his profile was still set to public.

The very first photo I was greeted with was one of him and a woman I had never seen before. They were both shooting dazzling smiles at the camera--Adam was right, he had gained weight--but the only thing brighter than their grins was the shiny rock on the woman's finger.

So Adam had been right. Ray really was engaged. I sunk my head deeper into my pillow and brought my phone closer to my face. It was impossible to deny how happy he looked. I tried to remember if he had ever looked that happy with me. Probably not.

I thought back to our breakup, late at the end of my junior year. It felt more like parting ways with a possession you'd had for a long time, rather than a breakup. Ray had been my first serious boyfriend, and we'd dated for almost two years, but I was pretty sure that I hadn't been in love with him. We had essentially gotten together out of convenience. We both went to NYU, we were both pre-med, and we had most of the same friends. It had almost felt like we had to be together.

And yet...even though it wasn't real love, I couldn't shake the slightly nauseated feeling that only heightened the longer I looked at the photo. Unable to stop myself, I clicked on his fiancé's profile.

Her name was Monica Waterford. It sounded like a name straight out of a Margaret Atwood novel. She didn't seem real to me, and yet there she was, with a diamond ring on her finger and "Future Mrs. Raymond Evans" in her bio. I wondered if she was a doctor too. Probably not--she seemed too glamorous to be one. She looked like a Victoria's Secret model.

All of a sudden, I remembered that we had only been broken up for six months. Was that really enough time to meet someone else and get engaged? Unless....

Unless he had cheated on me.

Maybe I was still drunk, because suddenly, I found myself dialing Ray's number, adrenaline racing through my veins. There was another feeling mixed in there too--it wasn't so much anger as it was betrayal. And disgust. And shock.

Okay, so maybe there was some anger in there too.

Ray picked up after the third ring. "Dr. Raymond Evans, how may I help you?"

His voice sounded the exact same. I wasn't sure why I had expected it to be any different. I swallowed for a minute before saying, "You're not a doctor yet, Ray."