by Olivia Howe
“Thinking about Mark? Is he on Pluto?”
I know she’s trying to cheer me up, but it’s not working. I don’t want to laugh. I want to continue to be numb, because I know the pain is right around the corner.
“I’m sorry, Lauren. Guys are assholes.”
“I just didn’t think he was going to be. He seemed so different. We had an amazing time together and then, bam! He doesn’t try to call me or see me. Is it me? Do I repel men or something?” I smell my shirt. “Do I stink? What is it? Because I surely don’t understand.”
“First off, you don’t stink. You smell like roses. Second, you deserve someone better. You’re a beautiful woman. Don’t forget that, through all the pain.” I think she’s been hanging out with Tommy too much.
Carrie leaves my side and tends to a customer. I’m slacking, I know.
The bell rings above the front door. I quickly look to see who it is. It’s Mark. I’m so surprised to see him that shock fills every inch of my body.
He spots me and walks over, looking guilty and sad. “Hi.”
“That’s it? That’s all I get?” I spit out, getting right to the point.
“I’m sorry, Lauren. I’ve had a lot going on.”
“You could’ve called. I know we didn’t exchange phone numbers, but you know where I work. You could’ve easily looked up the café’s number. Why, Mark?” Here comes the sadness, slowly creeping in.
“Lauren, I said I was sorry. That’s why I came here. We need to talk.”
“Those four words can never mean anything good.” Sadness picks up its speed. What in the world would he need to talk to me about? This can’t be good.
“You’re beautiful. I’ve never met such an amazing woman like you. And…” He pauses, unsure of his next words.
“And… what?” I choke up.
“And I think you deserve someone better. I’m no good, Lauren. I’m filled with baggage and surrounded by drama with my career.”
“I should’ve seen this coming…” I should’ve, but I didn’t. I thought we were both happy seeing each other.
“You know how hard this is for me? I’m so in love with you, Lauren, and that’s the problem. I’m not the person for you. Nothing good ever comes out of loving me.”
My words are caught up and twisted. I don’t know what to say. The man I have so many feelings for, maybe even love, is now leaving me.
A tear falls from his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t say anything as I watch him walk out the door. I thought he was different. I thought this connection between us would be worth staying for.
I was so wrong.
Tears blur my vision. I knew this was coming. It always ends sooner or later. Happiness never lasts long with me. It’s the story of my life.
My whole life goes up in flames. Pain strikes my heart. I know we didn’t have much time together, but the time we did have was amazing. I’ve never fallen in love with someone so easily, so quickly.
Yes, I do love him.
I run out the front door of the café, wanting to tell him I love him, too. I search for his face in the winter storm. He’s nowhere. He’s vanished from my life.
He was just there. Now he’s gone, and probably gone forever.
It’s not like I can call him. Stupid me for forgetting to get his damn phone number. Isn’t that what you do, like, when you first meet each other? How could I be so stupid? I want him to know how I feel. Maybe that can change things. I don’t care about his baggage or whatever drama the rock star life brings with it. I’m ready for it all, if that means I get to be with him.
But it’s too late now. I’m too late. He’s gone, and I’m left behind, standing all alone.
***
I work, even though I’m crying. Carrie hasn’t noticed yet. I have been avoiding her at all costs. Customers keep looking at me funny, and once in a while someone will ask me if I’m okay. “Of course,” I tell them. “I’m fine.” I’m not going to tell them a story about how heartbroken I am because I let the love of my life walk out the door.
It’s over and done between Mark and me, but the heartbreak is still going to live inside of me for a while. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.
Carrie spots me and does a double take. Shit! She caught me.
Quickly she comes to my side and pulls me into the back of the café. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
Right then and there, I lose it with tears. I can’t stop crying. She pulls me in for a hug, making me cry even harder. “He left me.”
“Shhhhh… It’s going to be okay, honey. Things will get better. You’re the strongest person I know.”
I never thought of myself as strong. I always thought of myself as the person who had a lot of problems and stress, but I got through it by pushing myself because I didn’t have a choice.
“You should go home and get some rest. I’ll call you a cab so you don’t have to walk in the storm,” she says firmly.
“Okay,” I say, starting to cry again.
I know being home isn’t going to help me, but I need to be alone right now. I’m a mess. I can’t keep crying around all the customers and scaring them away. That’s the last thing I want.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry.”
“Lauren, why are you apologizing to me?” Carrie asks.
“For crying all over your shirt. It’s soaked.”
We both laugh. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about.”
***
My phone rings, making me jump almost out of my seat. It’s probably Adam, and I don’t want to talk to him. I let it go to voicemail, and then it starts ringing again. I check and see who it is.
Shit! It’s Barbara! “Hey, boss lady.”
“Finally you answered your phone.” She sounds mad and not pleased with me whatsoever.
“I’m emailing you the newest pages now.”
“About time! I’ve been waiting, and we’re on a deadline.”
“How long do I have?” I ask, very concerned.
“Five weeks.”
“Five weeks to finish the novel?” This isn’t good.
“Yes, I didn’t stutter. You have five weeks to have the finished manuscript emailed to me. I need to read over it and make notes on anything I want you to change before we get it to the editor.”
I sigh. I hope I can get it done in time. “Okay.”
“Five weeks, Mandi. No later!”
She hangs up the phone before I can say anything else to her. I have only five weeks to finish this novel? I don’t like having deadlines. I like being able to write when I feel like, when my characters want me to.
Now I only have a certain amount of time to make this happen.
My mind wanders to Adam. I wonder what he’s doing right now… Is he going to find his wife? Is he thinking about me?
I shake the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter what Adam is doing or thinking. He’s an asshole and a liar. I need to keep repeating that over and over in my head.
I need to forget about Adam Wilson.
CHAPTER 19
I MAKE MYSELF A STEAMING HOT cup of coffee. Tonight is going to be a long night. I’ll be up writing most of the time, although it’s actually nice to have a deadline. It helps me push through the emotional baggage I have and make me concentrate completely on my novel, so I finish it in time to turn in to my publisher. Maybe this is something I needed.
***
I’ve never been this broken, this hurt before in my life. I’ve had my share of men who have broken my heart, but in different ways. My last boyfriend, I loved him, and he beat the shit out of me every minute he got the chance until I finally left his ass.
Of course, that’s different from what Mark and I shared. My point is I’ve been through the whole heartbreak thing. It’s happened so often, it’s started to become second nature to me. It’s sad, but I’m so used to it.
Bu, this heartbreak is different. It hurts more. The unbearable pain is eat
ing me up inside, slowly but surely.
Carrie wants me to take a few days off so I can pull myself together. I don’t know what I’m going to do with three days off. I know I need to keep myself busy, but all I want to do is stay cuddled up between my sheets.
I’m broken.
I’m torn apart.
I can’t pull myself together. I don’t know what to do with myself.
How can someone you’ve known for so little time make such an impact on you? I’m crying over someone I fell in love with so quickly. And I did indeed fall so irrevocably in love with Mark. He was different than other men I’ve surrounded myself with. He was simple, and I loved it. He always surprised me, whether it was at the flea market or finding out he’s a rock star. Everything about him was perfect and manly. The sex was passionate and erotic.
I have to stop. I can’t stop thinking about him, but I have to try. It’s not going to help me and is making things worse.
***
I start crying. I can’t control myself. I’m not sure if I’m crying because of Lauren and Mark or because of Adam. Everything makes me think about him. I can’t help it. I thought I knew him. I thought he would never hurt me. He shattered me into a billion pieces, and there’s no coming back from that ever.
I’m in pain. My heart wants him, but my head keeps reminding me of what happened.
There’s an empty space in my bed. It’s so cold, and I want nothing more than for Adam to come back and fill it.
Stop it, Mandi! Stop it!
He’s married. His wife is pregnant. There’s no being with him. I just can’t wrap my head around this. I can’t believe he did this to me. I thought I was going to get the fairy tale ending. I was so wrong.
But I still love him. For always. That will never change.
***
I can't stay cooped up in this apartment any longer. The walls are closing in on me, and I think I'm going to scream. I need to get out, even if it's just for a few hours.
I love being alone. I've always been that way, but this is different. I'm feeling and showing signs of depression. And that's not good. Depression and anxiety run in my family; my mom always told me that. She also told me to be careful when I drink, because our family gets easily addicted to alcohol. I've never worried, because I've never had the addictive personality—which in my case is rare and lucky.
Drinking... That sounds like a good idea. I decide to go down to Mickey's Bar and drink my sorrows away. It's better than crying myself to sleep again or sitting in the hot shower for hours, bawling and staring off into space.
I grab my sweater from the back of the couch and make my way to the bar.
***
Tonight, Mickey's Bar is pretty packed. A biker club is hanging out in the corner, laughing and playing pool. Loud rock music blares from the speakers as drunken women and men dance, some grinding sloppily all over each other.
Mickey spots me and waves me over. I take a seat on the bar stool. "Whisky, please."
"Bad day?" Mick pours me a glass without hesitation.
"I just need to drown out my emotions for the night." I gulp the whisky. It burns my throat, making me gag. I never drink the hard stuff.
"Screw that boy. You deserve better, darling." Mickey always tries to make me feel better. He’s that type of person. He doesn’t like seeing the people closest to him stressed or sad.
He used to tell me stories about his daughter and ex-wife. Elsa was the brightest little girl who always wanted to grow up and be just like Mickey. His ex-wife Janet, well, she was a basket case all the time. No one could ever please her. She was the type of woman to beg for attention at any cost, and was always putting Mickey down whenever she got the chance, probably to make her feel better about herself. They do say that misery loves company.
I feel bad for him. He’s such a generous soul, always helping out people who are in need. Mick’s the type of person who would take the shirt off his back, if you needed it.
One time, he did just that, but with his jacket and shoes. Mickey saw a poor homeless man outside his bar one cold winter night. The man was shivering, about to freeze to death. Mickey welcomed him in with open arms. He fed him, clothed him, and gave him a resting place for a couple weeks until he could get on his feet.
The liquor heats up my stomach, sending a wave of hot flashes to attack me. I throw my sweater onto the bar then gulp down the rest of my drink.
"That's so gross. Give me more."
Mickey laughs. I don't think he's ever seen me like this before. "Here you go." He slides the cup across the bar and then tends to another customer.
I'm going to be shitfaced tonight.
One hour later, I'm dancing on the dance floor, probably making a fool of myself with all the other drunken belligerent people. I’m having fun in my own little world, which is what I needed tonight. I needed so desperately to get out of my own head for a change. As a writer, I usually live there.
I need to sit down before I pass out. Everything is starting to circle. That's not a good sign whatsoever. I haven't been this drunk since high school.
I sit at the bar in front of Mickey and slam my head down. "Ouch."
"Are you okay?" Mickey asks.
I look up, regretting it almost instantly. "Please stop spinning."
He laughs. "I'm not spinning."
"Mickey, you're spinning the whole room. Please stop." My comment makes him laugh.
“Honey, I think it’s time for me to call you a cab.” I think he’s very right. Have I mentioned how right Mickey is all the time?
“Please.”
Time passes, and I don’t even notice. I’m slouched over the bar, in desperate need of a bed and a trash can. Mickey has one of the stronger men carry me out. He probably would’ve done it himself, but he’s too old for that.
The strange man slides me into the backseat of the taxi cab. “Good luck with her.”
I look over to see Mickey talking to the driver. “Please make sure she gets home safe. Here’s the money for her ride and extra for a tip.”
“No worries. I’ve dealt with worse,” a woman’s voice says.
“Thank you very much, ma’am.” Mickey looks back at me and smiles lightly. “Get some sleep.”
I nod, falling over in the backseat. I lay down with my face looking toward the roof. “Please stop spinning the vehicle. Mickey was doing the same thing, and he thought it was funny.”
“Girl, I’m not spinning. That’s the alcohol.”
“Am I drunk? I think I’m drunk,” I say, pointing out the obvious and making a complete fool of myself.
“I didn’t notice. But if you have to ask me that question, then yes, you’re most definitely drunk.”
I look up at her with a straight face. “Okay, I’m drunk. Now please stop spinning.”
Her laugh echoes through the car. “I’ll try to stop spinning.”
“Thank you.” I try to sit up. Bad idea.
“You should probably just stay lying down,” she advises.
“I think you’re right. I’m Mandi, by the way. I don’t usually get this drunk.” Being under the influence, well, it helps for talking with complete strangers. She’s in for a life story soon. I feel it coming.
“I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve always loved the name Charlie for a girl. I think it’s an amazing name,” I say, closing my eyes to stop the spinning of the earth.
“Who broke your heart?” she asks.
Is it that noticeable?
I sigh. “This guy I’ve loved since high school. Ten years later, he comes back into my life like a knight in shining armor. Only it’s a disguise.”
“That’s not good.”
I sit up quickly, and the spinning comes back full-force. I feel like I’m going to throw up, so I roll down the window. False alarm.
“He fucked me and told me he loved me but forgot to mention the fact that he’s married and she’s pregnant with his child.”
“H
ow’d you find out?”
I laugh, even though it’s far from funny. “She walked into Mickey’s Bar and asked if I knew her husband, because she was looking for him.”
“Even worse. What a scumbag.”
“Seriously.”
We pull up to my apartment building. Charlie turns off her vehicle and helps me out of the car. Walking up the stairs is an obstacle, but we make it happen. She’s actually a really nice person.
Once my front door opens, I start to cry my eyes out. “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”
“It’s fucked up, darling. But life goes on, with or without you.”
I sigh deeply, almost falling onto my coffee table. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. “You’re so very right, Janelle. I mean, Charlie. Sorry, I am drunk.”
“You finally realized that?” She sets me down on my bed.
“You’re a nice person. Thanks for dealing with me.”
“I’m a taxi driver, I’ve seen worse. Where’s your trash can?” she asks, looking around the room. I point in the direction I think it is. She finally finds it without my help. “Just to let you know, you were pointing in the opposite direction.”
“Have a good night. Thanks again.”
“Anytime, Mandi. And with your lover, take it day by day. It’s going to be hard to get over, especially if it’s real love. Time is your best friend, though. As time goes by, the wounds might not fully heal, but they sure will hurt less.”
“You should be a therapist or something.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Charlie shuts the door behind her. When I hear it shut, vomit comes pouring out of my mouth and straight into the trashcan. Score!
I drag myself to the bathroom to relieve myself and brush my teeth. I’m a sloppy, drunken disaster right now. I need to go to sleep promptly.
It takes me five minutes just to get back to my bedroom. I zig-zag, knocking everything down in my path. My knee connects with the coffee table, sending me falling to the ground.
“OUCH!” I yell.
I pull myself up. I need to go to sleep. I need to so badly. I finally stumble back to bed and make an oath not to move again until morning.
My eyes flutter shut, and I’m swept off into dreamland almost instantly.