Shattered

by Alicia Renee Kline

  “Eric,” I choked, “we haven’t worked for a long time. In the back of my mind I’ve known for a while. I think you have, too. It’s just that neither one of us was ready to admit it. Until now.”

  “So you were planning our demise while I was choosing your ring? You were never going to accept my proposal, but you strung me along for days?”

  I sighed. I wasn’t sure how I’d expected this to go, but this definitely wasn’t it. I figured he’d be angry with me, not intent on laying down the guilt trip. I didn’t need his help – I felt bad enough on my own.

  “I considered it, really I did. I didn’t lie to you when I told you that night that my head was spinning. But in the end, I decided it wasn’t fair to either one of us to settle. I can’t ask you to give up Indy for me. I can’t ask you to sell your home; you love it here. You love it, and many other things, more than me.”

  “You don’t know that.” He stood then, the fire returning to his eyes.

  “Then why did you just now feel it was important to say those words? Eric, it took you ten years to tell me you loved me. For ten years I hung on to the belief that you did, but just couldn’t express it. I defended you to Gracie, to my dad, to anyone who would listen – but I never really knew for sure myself. So excuse me for thinking it’s a little convenient that your revelation comes immediately after you accuse me of cheating on you. And you crash the suspect’s birthday party to propose. I think the whole thing reeks more of the spirit of competition than wanting to be with me.”

  “So that’s what this is all about? Sure, you say nothing’s gone on between the two of you but you’re not fooling anyone. I wanted to trust you so badly, Lauren, but the truth is that I had already lost you the moment you moved to Fort Wayne and set eyes on that loser. And what do I get for being right? I get humiliation. I’m the punch line to this whole sick joke. The bastard’s probably laughing at me right now for making a fool of myself that night.”

  His grip tightened on the box that held the engagement ring. He stared down at his hand as if he was just realizing it was still there.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “The fuck it’s not. You’re a horrible liar; it doesn’t suit you. He probably drove you down here so he could gloat about it all the way back home. You can tell the fucker that he won.”

  “Matthew’s not here. And he has no idea that I’m here.”

  Well, the last part may not have been true, but I wasn’t sure. I had told Blake, not him. And I hadn’t explained my intentions of the visit to either.

  “So that’s part of the birthday surprise, then? You’re just going to hightail it back up to his bed and announce that the deed has been done? I’m surprised that you both could keep your pants on this long. I applaud you on your sense of morality.”

  My face flushed at the truth in his words. I winced as I replayed Matthew’s lips upon mine, the fleeting ecstasy that I had felt in his arms before my heart shattered into a million pieces at his feet. If he hadn’t pulled away, would I have stopped myself from cheating on Eric? Would I have been able to resist the temptation and do what was right? I didn’t know the answer, nor did I care to wax philosophically upon it.

  “He didn’t win. He doesn’t want me; he made it quite clear.”

  In hindsight, it was an admittedly stupid thing to say. Once the words had been uttered in their hushed tone, Eric’s eyes snapped up to mine. The rage inside was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  “You fucking offered yourself to him?”

  My silence was the only confession necessary.

  I was thankful that he had enough self control left at that point to merely hurl the velvet box down the hallway. The box opened as it struck the wall and the diamond ring clattered against the floor. We both stared in its general direction for a few seconds.

  “I left you with that ring and my love and that question and you run to him? You fucking bitch. Too bad he has enough common sense not to want you; the two of you deserve each other.”

  “Eric – “

  “No, you don’t get to talk to me. I’m done.”

  “I’m so sorry, Eric.”

  “Whatever. Get your shit and get out.”

  My head hung, I reluctantly did as instructed. As we walked down the hallway to the master bedroom, he kicked both the box and the ring for emphasis. Even now, he wouldn’t lay a hand on me; he wasn’t the type. I was surprised, however, that the wall didn’t take the abuse that he undoubtedly would have liked to inflict upon me.

  He stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he supervised the removal of the few items I kept in his dresser. His eyes were laser focused upon my every moment; I trembled under his piercing gaze. I jammed my stuff into the small overnight bag that I had brought it all over in as tears threatened to slide down my cheeks. My blurry vision and shaking hands made it nearly impossible to navigate the zipper. After watching me struggle for a few seconds, he stomped over to my side and took the bag from me, yanking it closed.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” he said icily.

  “I didn’t want it to end like this,” I vowed softly.

  He laughed sharply. “Sure you didn’t. You wanted to break up with me and run straight to him, but he had other ideas. I can’t say I disagree with him – you’re not worth it. I hope he makes your life a living hell every time you see him. For once I’ll root for the guy.”

  “I’m not living at Blake’s anymore. We’ll never see each other again.”

  “Too bad. Maybe you can swing by the jail on your way back to wherever to pick up a new love interest. You know, get one while he’s fresh and needy.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from responding with something idiotic. I figured it was best at this point to just let the whole thing drop and admit defeat. There was no amount of backtracking I could do that would make this become one of those touchy-feely, friendly breakups. In all honesty, I knew that Eric wasn’t the type to bow out gracefully; for me to imagine that he would part ways with a hug and smile and best wishes for the future was nothing more than a dream.

  We said no more to each other as he escorted me down the hallway and out the front door. I didn’t look back at him as he slammed the door behind me. I kept my eyes straight ahead, my thoughts on placing my feet one in front of the other as I made my true walk of shame over to the elevator.

  Thankfully, I rode alone on my way down to the parking garage. I slumped against the railing and closed my eyes, feeling nothing and everything all at once. When the elevator stopped and announced I had reached my destination, it took a second for me to realize that I had arrived. I shook the cobwebs out of my head and exited, automatically turning left and blindly walking to my car.

  Without a second glance at the BMW that seemed to smirk at me as I passed, I pulled out into the snowy streets of Indianapolis and out of Eric’s life forever.

  Chapter Three

  Gracie swung open the door to her apartment, wine glass still in hand. It was obvious she hadn’t been expecting anyone, especially not me. Given the weather conditions, I couldn’t blame her for her choice to celebrate alone. Swallowing down the rest of the liquid as a bewildered look passed over her features, she stepped aside to allow me entrance.

  “Hi, yourself,” she said with a shrug as I passed by her wordlessly.

  By sheer force of will I had kept my composure all the way to her apartment. After leaving Eric’s, I had automatically begun driving there, hoping my trek in the near blizzard conditions wouldn’t be in vain. If she hadn’t been home, I imagined I would have continued on to my dad’s, but my best friend’s company was better suited for a time like this.

  She followed me to her couch, watching me with a raised eyebrow as I slumped down on the middle cushion, clutching onto one of her throw pillows like it was my lifeline.

  “Nice to see you, too,” she prompted, dragging out the last syllable as though I were a child.

  I knew my conversational skills were
lacking at best. However, I also knew once I opened my mouth that I would completely lose it. All of the stress of the past few weeks had simmered to a slow boil, and now the result was about to bubble over. I stared up at her blankly, my breath already coming in unsteady intervals. I scrunched my face up in an attempt to hold off the tears, failing miserably. As the first trails of moisture slid over my cheeks, I emitted a deep, squeaky sob. Had I cared about appearances at that point, I would have been mortified.

  Gracie responded by retreating to her kitchen, returning to my side with a full bottle of wine, her glass and another one for me. She sunk down next to me and set to work pouring. Despite my protests, she pressed the stem of the clean glass into my hand, shaking her head.

  “I know you don’t drink. But trust me, you need it more than I do.”

  With a wry smile, she refilled her empty glass and took a long swig as I stared at her.

  “Fine,” I choked out, eying the contents warily. Before I lost my nerve, I raised the glass to my lips and drank it down. It tasted absolutely awful. My opinion must have been written all over my face, for Gracie stifled a laugh. My reaction didn’t stop her from pouring me another. I decided then to nurse my refill.

  “So do you want to talk about it or just get drunk? I’m up for either.”

  She settled back on her sofa, closing her eyes. I loved how she could be so absolutely unaffected by my dramatic entrance. Most people would have pried for information by now, but not her. I cried and sipped the offending beverage in my glass from time to time to break the monotony while she waited patiently.

  When I felt like I could string more than two words together, I began.

  “I broke up with Eric.”

  To her credit, the wide smile that lit her face only lasted momentarily.

  “Before or after the proposal?”

  I nearly gagged on the wine that was in my mouth. Just mere weeks ago we had sat in my old bedroom at my dad’s house and discussed this very situation. At the time, she had convinced me she knew nothing of Eric’s intentions with the whole moving in together thing. Knowing her hatred for my then boyfriend was reciprocated tenfold on his behalf, I had believed her. After he had popped the question, I had been so frozen in indecision that I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Quite honestly, I doubted I would have told Blake and Matthew if they hadn’t been there to witness it.

  “He told you?” I asked finally.

  “He, Eric? No. But your dad did.”

  I winced. I hadn’t thought about that aspect of it. Who would have thought that Eric would have picked this moment to be traditional and ask for my father’s blessing first?

  “Shit,” was all I could think of as a response.

  I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and grabbed the throw pillow again. I wished it was much larger so that I could hide completely behind it. Things were just going from bad to worse. Now I would have to go through the whole story again with my dad and explain what had happened. Or at least give him the edited version. Otherwise, he would be expecting a breathless phone call announcing the news and a forthcoming gift registry.

  “Eric asked his permission when we were all over there on Christmas,” she explained.

  I wanted to smack my head in recognition. That was why Eric had looked like the cat that swallowed the canary as we had left the house and gone back to his condo. But it didn’t shed light on the rather impersonal dismissal he had given me moments later in the parking garage. How he was so good at turning his emotions on and off, I had no clue. And I had made sure that I would never get a chance to figure it out.

  “Your dad tried to warn him that you might not say yes. But Eric being Eric, he didn’t listen. In the end, your dad knew you better than your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t even know me,” I whispered.

  The tears started in earnest again, and this time Gracie felt the need to comfort. As I leaned against the armrest of the sofa for support and buried my head in my arm, I heard the sound of her setting down her own wine glass.

  “Shhh,” she soothed, stroking my hair, “I know it hurts right now, but you’ll see that you made the right decision in time. Wearing his ring wasn’t going to fix your problems. Neither was moving in with him and signing your name to some mortgage that would tie you together for thirty years of resentment. Better to end things now then to wait until the courts have to decide things or you to just end up settling for not being happy.”

  Her words rang true in some deep recess of my mind. As I had circled Fort Wayne last night after leaving Matthew’s, my thought processes had practically mirrored her sentiments. But making the decision and actually acting upon it were two different things. When it had just been a theory, a course of action, I hadn’t factored in seeing the shock or the rage that my words would cause.

  “I hurt him,” I mumbled.

  “And he hurt you. Lauren, that’s just how relationships go. You can’t stay with someone you don’t love anymore just because it would make them feel bad if you left.”

  “He didn’t see it coming.”

  “That’s because his ego was in the way.”

  “He already put the condo on the market. The realtor lockbox was on the doorknob when I got there.”

  Gracie snorted. “Serves him right. Now he either has to break the contract or go through with it. Or pray that it doesn’t sell. If I made more money, I would make an offer on his place just out of spite.”

  Despite myself, I smiled. Leave it to my best friend to lighten the mood with her ever present hatred of Eric. I wiped at my eyes and straightened myself up on the cushion. My sudden movement was greeted with a wave of dizziness.

  “When’s the last time you ate something?”

  I closed my eyes and thought long and hard. I had been so busy this morning packing all my belongings in the trunk of the Sonata that I hadn’t eaten breakfast and the idea of lunch hadn’t appealed to me, either. After work, I’d driven straight to Eric’s without stopping along the way for a snack. By my calculations, it had been maybe thirty-six hours, give or take.

  “Lauren,” she scolded playfully, “you of all people shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. You’re a lightweight.”

  She smacked me gently on the knee as she rose from her perch and stood in front of me.

  “I know. I’ve just been – busy.”

  “Well, let’s get a pizza or something. You’re in no condition to go out. Or I could run somewhere real quick and bring back some hamburgers. Anything sound good?”

  I shook my head. “Whatever you want. There’s some money in my purse; I’ll buy. You’ll be stuck listening to my sorry ass all night. It’s the least I can do.”

  She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “An unexpected slumber party where we bash Eric? What could be better? But you are horribly overdressed.”

  I looked down at my pantsuit, now utterly wrinkled. “I’ve got some stuff in the car.”

  Well, that was the understatement of the year. I had all of my stuff in the car, but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.

  “Okay,” she accepted with a shrug. It likely made sense to her. She knew that I kept some clothes at Eric’s; it was logical to assume that since we’d broken up I’d have them with me.

  Gracie crossed the space between us and where my purse had landed as I’d stormed in the apartment in a matter of about three steps. She plucked my wallet and my keys from my bag and stared up at me with an unspoken question in her eyes.

  “Yes, you can drive it.”

  “Awesome! See, hon, things are looking up. We’ll stay up late tonight, you can shed some tears over your failed relationship, we’ll eat some fattening food and in the morning you can go back home and work on obtaining your upgrade.”

  I knew exactly what she was referring to, and my blood ran cold.

  Pleased with her own plan for easing my heartache, she spun around and was out the door in a flash. I waited until I heard the latch click before I coll
apsed onto the couch once again, awash in a whole new wave of sorrow.

  Chapter Four

  Gracie was gone for a while, but I wasn’t really capable of appropriately judging the concept of time at that point. She could have been out for hours or just a few minutes, I really couldn’t be sure. I was, however, regretting my decision to allow her to venture off in this weather to tend to my growling stomach. Especially in my brand new car. I trusted her completely and she hadn’t appeared tipsy in the least bit, but with the way my luck had gone lately I was the last person who needed to be tempting fate.

  The worry about my best friend’s whereabouts actually helped keep my mind off of the fact that I barely felt human. I stared blankly ahead, my eyes trained straight on the door, awaiting her return. Every now and then, a sniffle or a sob would sneak out of nowhere and I would do my best to swallow it down.

  I hated crying; it did nothing for me.

  Eventually Gracie did come back, loaded down with a bag from the nearest fast food establishment and the backpack that I’d thrown in the backseat. Her glossy black hair was dotted with snowflakes, which she shook off as soon as she stepped through the threshold.

  “I hate snow,” she sighed as she shrugged off her coat and let it land in a heap on the floor. The obsessive-compulsive part of my brain urged me to pick it up and hang it in the closet, but I remained where I was.

  “Then you shouldn’t live in Indiana,” I quipped.

  “True. Unfortunately, my bank account tells me otherwise.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it being bad out.”

  She handed me my backpack with a strange look on her face. “No worries. But you could have told me you’re a borderline hoarder. Is that a trait you picked up since you left Indy? Cause damn, it looks like you live out of that car.”

  I sighed. “It’s a recent development.”