The Breakup Mix

by Carter, TK

  “Mmhmm.” I looked at Michelle. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  “Actually, I’m getting excited about it. I could stand to lose a few pounds and maybe this will give me that nudge I need. If we’re going to look at the gym, we probably need to get moving. I need to get back to the house and start dinner.”

  “Chance, are you going with them?” Dani asked.

  “Nah, I’m not ready to leave yet. Do you want to hang out for a bit, Dani?”

  “Yeah, I’m craving bar food. Would you like to eat here?”

  “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll go grab some menus.” I slid out of the booth and hugged Michelle as she stood. “Call me if you need me. Hang in there, sister.”

  “I will. Thanks, Chance.”

  Alissa slid her drink toward me. .“Here. Drink up. This is upsetting my stomach for some reason. And tip the bartender well. He’s super hot and single.” She winked at me and hugged Dani.

  “He probably slipped you a mickey. I’m not drinking that.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m probably just queasy from the wine last night. Have fun, ladies.” Alissa laughed and walked away.

  Chapter Six

  In the End

  Alissa

  Michelle and I left the bar and headed toward the gym. She fidgeted in the seat and texted Brandon a bazillion times in the seven-minute commute. I knew I was on borrowed time.

  The owner of the gym greeted us with his bulging biceps, fake-baked skin, and glowing-white teeth.

  Michelle whispered, “Whoa.”

  I giggled. “Hey there Reggie! How’s business today?”

  “Good to see you, Alissa,” he said. “It was busy earlier, but it tapered off this afternoon. Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Michelle Morehead; Michelle, this is Reggie. He’s the brains and brawn behind this establishment.” I watched them give awkward greetings and dropped the bomb. “I’d like to buy Michelle a year pass to the gym with all classes included.” I flipped my purse open and avoided Michelle’s dropped jaw.

  “Alissa, you don’t . . . I can’t . . . that’s a lot, Lis.”

  I handed Reggie my debit card. “Sure I can. It’s not much, and I want to help you on your journey.”

  Reggie handed Michelle the application and a pen. “Sounds like you have a great friend, here, Michelle. Go ahead and fill this out, and I’ll get you all set up. I’ll throw in unlimited tanning, too. How does that sound?”

  Michelle shook her head and bit her lip as her chin quivered. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I winked at Reggie. “We’re going to have a few more friends joining, too, so may I have a few class schedules to give them?”

  Reggie slid the schedules toward me. “The 5:30 a.m. crunch class is full, but other than that, we have room in every other class.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Michelle said. “I don’t do anything at 5:30 a.m.” Then she whispered, “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “You’re going to love it. I’m excited for you. Do you have time for a tour?”

  Michelle looked at her watch. “A quick one should be fine.”

  “Reggie, do you mind if I do the honors while you’re getting her stuff set up?”

  “Be my guest,” he said as he took the application from Michelle. “Just keep her out of the locker room, okay, Michelle?” He winked at me and turned his attention to the computer screen in front of him.

  Michelle whispered, “Tell me there’s no story behind you and the men’s locker room.”

  I laughed. “No . . . not yet, anyway, but it’s on my bucket list.”

  Michelle elbowed me and chuckled.

  “Hey, you were the one saying you wanted an adventure. You never know what kind of stuff can happen at a gym.”

  “Scrogging in a men’s locker room is low on my list.”

  “At least it made the list, my dear. Okay, so here are the machines. When we come back, I’ll train you on how to use the machines . . .”

  “Oh, good Lord, look at those guys,” she said with bugging eyes. “I bet I’m at least twenty years older than them, but damn.”

  “The eye candy here is good.” She chuckled. “I’m not a fool.”

  I showed her around the gym, gave her a quick explanation of how to check in and out, how to find the locker room, and showed her the tanning room. She checked her watch several times, so I wrapped it up and headed back toward Reggie.

  “Here you go, Mrs. Morehead,” he said. “This is your twenty-four hour pass; just slide it on the pad outside the door, and you’ll get in. During business hours, check in here and try to be about ten minutes early for classes. Do you have any questions?”

  “Nope, I’m all set. Thank you.” She looked at me. “Ready?”

  “Yep, let’s get you home. Thanks Reggie!”

  I dropped her off. “You’re welcome,” for the fortieth time in ten minutes. I watched as she half-ran/half-skipped through the front door and imagined her gushing to Brandon about her membership. It made me grin to see her so excited.

  I checked my phone and sighed that I still hadn’t heard from Mark. How is it possible that we could be inseparable for six months but now not hear a peep out of him? How can he just turn it off like that? I contemplated driving by his house but it’s miles out of my way. If he happened to see me, he would know I was going stalker-chick and that would be bad.

  A wave of nausea hit me again, so I took a few deep breaths to ward off the anxiety trying to surface. I was losing the battle, so I turned off my car and ran toward Michelle’s house. I threw open the door and stopped when I heard Brandon and Michelle arguing in the kitchen. Gibson waved from the couch before he focused on the video game in his lap.

  “I need to use your bathroom,” I mumbled as I ran down through the living room to the bathroom.

  The sounds of my retching echoed through the house, I’m sure. I shivered in disgust and when I was sure I was through, I washed my face in the sink and leaned against the wall. A soft knock on the door forced my eyes open. “I’ll be right out,” I said.

  “Lis? You okay?” Michelle asked.

  I opened the door. “Yeah, I guess something didn’t set well.” I pointed toward the kitchen and whispered, “What was that all about?”

  Michelle waved me off and shrugged. “Brandon . . . you know how he is. Are you sure you’re okay? You look very pale.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Why don’t you lay down for a bit? You can use my bedroom, because it’s not like anyone else is going to use it.” She shouted down the hallway.

  “Actually, I think I will. I feel awful.”

  “Come on. I’ll get you set up.”

  She straightened the covers on the unmade bed and fluffed the pillows. “Climb on in, Lis. I’m going to get you a washcloth and a glass of ice water. Be right back.”

  I kicked off my shoes and crawled in bed. I felt my throat tighten and chin quiver. Tears pricked at my eyes, and no amount of fight was keeping them at bay.

  Michelle returned. “Okay, this will fix you up— Lis? Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

  I buried my face in the pillow and cried harder when I smelled Brandon’s aftershave on the linen. “I’m going to be alone forever.”

  “No, you won’t, Lis.”

  “He just wrote me off. No texts, no phone calls, no emails, just a big fat ‘sayonara sweetheart’ and poof—he’s gone.”

  “Maybe he just needs some time to think things over. Maybe he just needs some space.”

  I sat up and wiped my face on my shirt. “He was pretty blunt in his email, Chelle. He’s done. What is wrong with me? I’m a catch, right?”

  “Yes, you are! I’d marry you.” She smiled.

  “But why didn’t he want to marry me? I have enough money for three lifetimes; I’m fun and pretty. I’m successful and yet here I am at your house, puking in your toilet, laying in your bed. You’re rubbing my back and bringing me ice water.
Why can’t I have someone to do those things for me? Am I damned?”

  “Honey, having someone in the house isn’t the end-all-be-all for life. Sometimes married people are the loneliest people on the planet.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “He said I was smothering him. He said I’m too needy and selfish and that I’d be better off finding someone who could tolerate my need for organized adventure better than he does.”

  “Which is code for, ‘I’m satisfied with my boring life and don’t want you challenging me to do things differently.’ Lis, you said he was too stuffy and serious all the time. You don’t want to be with someone like that. He’d suck the life out of you. Then you’d wake up an old woman wondering when you lost the thing that made you who you are.”

  “Is that really what marriage is like?”

  A shadow fell across Michelle’s face. She slumped and shrugged. “Sometimes? It doesn’t start off that way, but somewhere along the way, years just fly by like mile markers on a highway.” She brushed my hair from my forehead. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen you cry.”

  I snuggled into the covers and laid back on the pillows. “I hate to cry almost as much as I hate to puke.” I closed my eyes and tried to open them and respond to the questions she was asking, but fatigue overtook me. Even the hurtful words from Mark’s email couldn’t dance before my mind’s eye long enough to keep me awake.

  Michelle

  “Lis? Lis?” She was out cold. I slipped out of the room and walked down the hall to continue the silent treatment Brandon had coming to him. Del Ray was in her room, no doubt practicing her ‘come hither’ look in the mirror. Little jerk. I never should have let her shave the sides of her head and dye the top purple. And her black eyeliner was thick enough to pave our driveway.

  I went to the refrigerator and pulled out an empty tea pitcher. I slammed it on the counter and pulled out a pan to make some more tea that I contemplated hiding from the rest of the freaks that have no clue about proper beverage etiquette.

  Martin came into the kitchen and asked, “Mama, are you okay?”

  I snapped, “Yeah, why?”

  “I heard something slam in here and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  I looked at his sweet face and smiled. “Come here, you.” I wrapped him in my arms and rested my chin on his head. “When did you get so big?”

  I felt him shrug and squeeze me tighter. I smiled in spite of myself. “Are you the punk that drank all the tea?”

  He shook his head. “No, but Gib was in here earlier.”

  Gibson yelled from the living room, “I was not! I got water.”

  “Ten bucks says it was your sister.” I craned my head and yelled toward her room, “Maybe we should ask the Magic 8 ball about that!” I smoothed Martin’s cowlick and kissed the top of his head. “You doing okay today, bud?”

  He nodded but still held onto me. He whispered, “I heard you and Dad fighting.”

  I lowered my mouth to his ear and whispered back, “It’s all good, Martin. Don’t you worry a thing about it. Sometimes adults fight. No big deal.” My heart sank when he held me tighter. Martin was always troubled when Brandon and I fought, which only managed to get me more pissed off at his father for being a raging douchebag over Alissa’s gift. “Any idea what you want for dinner tonight?”

  Martin shrugged. “I really don’t care.”

  I pulled away and got eye-level with him. I weaved my head back and forth until he looked me in the eyes and grinned. “How about fried chicken? That’s still your favorite, right?”

  Martin grinned. “Come on, I’m not that picky.”

  I smiled and hugged him again. “Just checking. Now go do boy things until I call you for dinner.”

  Brandon sauntered into the kitchen and huffed. “If she can afford to spend hundreds of dollars on a stupid gym membership, then why can’t she call a cab if she’s too drunk to drive home?”

  I wheeled around and stared him down. “She’s not drunk, you idiot, she’s sick. Again with the gym membership. God forbid someone does a random act of kindness and I actually get to enjoy it.”

  “Now, dammit, Michelle, it’s not because she did something nice for you. It’s because she just throws her money around like ‘oh look at me, I’m an oil tycoon’s ex-wife.’” He threw his hands around and sashayed through the kitchen. “It’s like she just rubs it in every chance she gets.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that she doesn’t have anyone else to share it with? And if I remember correctly, you were the one who encouraged me to call her up and ask her to take me to the bar because she ‘has more money than God.’”

  “Well this gym thing is only going to stress you out. You’re always complaining you don’t have enough time in the day as it is and here you are getting ready to schedule time away from your family to go—”

  “To go do something for myself, Brandon! To do something for me. Do I complain when you’re off in the garage playing your guitars?”

  “Yes! All the time!”

  “Ugh, you’re so full of shit.” I flung open the refrigerator door and grabbed a packet of chicken. I slammed the door and magnets went flying.

  “Oh, that’s nice. Good job. Why don’t you tear it up and have your sugar mama replace it, because I sure the hell can’t.”

  “Is that what this is all about? You’re pissed because Alissa did something for me that you can’t?” I slammed the chicken on the counter and tore off the packaging.

  Brandon sighed and picked up the magnets. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

  “Brandon, Alissa and I have been friends long before she became wealthy, and she was always the kind of person who would give her last dollar to any one of us who was struggling.” I paused from cutting the chicken and pointed the knife at him. “And if you remember, she bailed us out more than once when the house was on the line after Del Ray was born. She didn’t have that money then but she did it anyway.”

  “Yes, and we paid it back, too.”

  “Fine! Then pay back the gym membership! Good God, why is everything such a freaking issue with you?”

  “I’m not paying for that membership because we didn’t discuss it first, Michelle.”

  I slammed my fists on the counter and screamed, “Enough!”

  Martin came into the kitchen with his chin quivering and yelled, “Will you two just stop? Just get a divorce already and stop screaming at each other all the time!” He ran through the kitchen and out the back door slamming the door after him.

  I stared blankly at Brandon whose slumped shoulders and face registered how I was feeling. My throat tightened as tears stung my eyes. I whispered, “Is that what you want?”

  Brandon rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at me. “Do you?”

  I shook my head and whispered, “No.”

  He shook his head and mumbled, “Me neither.”

  I leaned over the sink and washed my hands as the tears dripped from my face into the suds on my hands. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  Brandon walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder then kissed my cheek. “I’m still mad at you.”

  I nodded my head and whispered, “I’m still mad at you, too. I’ll tell her I can’t accept the membership.”

  “No, don’t. What’s done is done. Maybe you need some time away from all this. But I would appreciate it if you don’t point knives at me anymore when you’re pissed.”

  I chuckled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Still. My balls are still in my rib cage at the moment. One good sneeze and I’ll be good as new.”

  I laughed, dried my hands, and turned to face him. “I really need to do something by myself so I don’t get like this. It’s not personal to you, honey. But there’s only so much I can take and I think the workouts will help me decompress.”

  “We’ll give it a shot and see how it goes.”

  I felt myself bristle but decided we’d
had enough arguing today, so I let it go. “I’m going to go find Martin. Check on Gibson, will ya? Make sure he’s not freaked out too. I doubt Del Ray had her earbuds out long enough to hear us.”

  He pulled away and walked into the living room. I heard him say, “You okay, buddy?” I heard Gibson mumble but couldn’t make out what he said. I dried my hands on my pants and wiped my face on my shirt. I sighed and looked out the kitchen window for Martin. He was such a predictable child; he was sitting in the same tree he’s gone to every time he’s been upset since he was five.

  I made sure Brandon had engaged Gibson then slipped out the back door. The boards on the porch sagged under my weight, which reminded me we still needed to get an estimate to have it replaced. After Brandon’s tantrum, I figured now wasn’t the time to address it. I was sure Martin couldn’t take another argument any more than I could. I looked over the backyard and was overwhelmed with how ratty it looked. Faded and long-abandoned toys littered the sand box that hadn’t had a refill in two years——a result of another Michelle tantrum after the repeated dumping shoes full of sand onto my freshly mopped floor.

  I don’t know how someone like me was ever allowed to take children home from the hospital.

  The half-built clubhouse leaned under the tree Martin had climbed. We were counting on Brandon’s bonus last year to finish it, but the company had a rough year and didn’t hand out bonuses. We got a good start on the floor and posts, but the lumber for the roof and walls is still at the store. I told Brandon we should wait and buy it all at once, but he was certain the bonus was coming.

  I swatted at a mosquito on my leg and walked to the tree. I grabbed a branch over my head and leaned forward until I could look up and see his face. He used his shoulder to wipe a tear as he gazed toward the neighbor’s yard.

  “Are you going to talk to me, Martin?”

  “I hate it when you fight.”

  “I know. It’s a small house, so you can hear way more than we think. But we aren’t getting a divorce, Martin, and I don’t want to hear you say that again, got it?”

  He sniffled and nodded. “What’s up with the gym thing?”