by Nikki Young
“Nope, because you and Cari are getting back together. Jimmy, it’s been too long for her to just walk away now.”
He cuts me short. “Yeah, Leah, it’s not happening. I’ve been at this for weeks now and she won’t even acknowledge me. I did the worst thing I could possibly do in her eyes. I cheated on her and then I lied to her about it.”
Jimmy lets out a deep sigh and looks down at his feet, shaking his head. I don’t even know what to say to him, because telling him it will be okay is a fucking joke. We both know that, so instead of trying to soothe him with a bunch of meaningless lines about love and forgiveness, I grab my glass and hold it up.
“Here’s to fucking up,” I say and Jimmy laughs as he taps his glass against mine.
Hours pass and Jimmy and I stay firmly rooted on our stools, both of us far too drunk to worry about Cari or Adam. Although neither of us says it, that is the whole point of this day. Get drunk and forget.
We’re both laughing so hard that at one point beer comes out Jimmy’s nose and I almost pee in my pants. I don’t even remember what was so funny, but I’m still laughing.
Jimmy’s face is flushed, his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink that contrasts with his normally tanned skin. His face has a permanent tan from all the snowboarding he does. It’s beautiful.
“You’re really gonna move here?” I ask him after we’ve both settled down.
“Yep. My kid is here and I’m not gonna lie to myself, so is Cari.” He reaches for his beer and with an unsteady hand knocks it into his lap, spilling beer all over the crotch of his pants.
Again the laughing ensues and I can’t help but give him shit. “You think she’s going to take you back? You look like you pissed yourself.”
Jimmy shoves me and I nearly fall off the bar stool. “Shut up, Leah. Like Adam’s gonna take you back. You smell like you made out with a bottle of scotch.”
“You’re a dick.”
“And you’re a bitch, so now we’re even.”
Just as we’re finishing up our highly intelligent conversation, an older lady walks into the bar. Her head is down and the collar of her coat is turned up around her neck. The bartender greets her by name and she shuffles to a table in the back corner. Both Jimmy and I are watching her as she pulls out the chair and sits down. Seconds later the bartender sets a martini down in front of her. She thanks him quietly and sucks down her drink, leaving a few dollars on the table, she leaves as quickly as she arrived.
Both of us take her in as she walks out the door. Such a strange encounter, but nothing was even said.
I look over at Jimmy, who’s still staring at the door. His eyes are heavy and bloodshot, yet he still looks gorgeous. I smile at him wondering how in the world Cari can give up on that face. If only for selfish reasons, I need her to take him back. I need to believe that in the end, a love like theirs lasts.
“I feel like that old lady has a story to tell,” I say pulling his eyes to mine.
“Everyone has a story to tell. Look at us, sitting in a bar in the middle of the day drunk off our ass like we couldn’t give a shit. But we both know the reason we’re here.”
“Broken heart?” I ask.
“Yep. I like to think that lady comes in here every day, drinks her martini and goes home happy. But the look on her face says otherwise. She has a broken heart just like us. One day, I’m going to be that old lady, because I’ll still be waiting for Cari.”
I don’t know how to respond to him. He loves Cari so much that I believe what he says is true. He’d wait forever for her and as sad as it sounds, it’d be even more tragic if she never forgave him.
Jimmy pushes the sleeves of his sweater up and runs his hand across the back of his neck. Letting out a deep sigh, he rests his elbows on the bar, a small tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his sweater. I reach across the table and run my finger along the inside of his forearm where the fresh black ink is visible.
Looking over at me with sadness in his beautiful brown eyes, he tugs his sleeve up until he reveals a new tattoo. The words all in lowercase running from just slightly above his wrist to the crook of his elbow: “I’ll wait for you”.
“Yeah, I’m a fucking loser,” he says and looks down at his arm.
Without giving it a second thought I toss my hand in the air and the bartender, who has become our new best friend, responds immediately.
“Another round?” I question looking at Jimmy who now looks like he hates himself. I know that look well; it’s like looking in a mirror. Worn out and sad, just done with it all, but your heart won’t let you give up. Your mind telling you to walk away, quit, just stop, but something keeps your heart from letting go. It’s horrible.
Jimmy nods his head and the bartender places a shot in front of each of us, mumbling something about depressing, pathetic drunks.
When we leave the bar it’s dark out, but that isn’t saying much considering it’s winter and it gets dark far too early. We step out onto the sidewalk and as soon as my foot hits the ground I slip. Going down I grab for Jimmy’s arm catching him off guard, he loses his balance smacking me in the face. We both end up in a heap on the ground laughing. Our asses covered in snow and blood trailing from my nose.
“Oh, crap, Leah, you’re bleeding,” Jimmy says brushing the snow off the back of his pants. He reaches down and lifts me off the ground. Pulling his sleeve over his hand he swipes at my nose. “Well shit, I punched you in the face.”
“Damn it, Jimmy,” I yell back laughing.
“Hold tight. I’m gonna go get some napkins.”
I can hear Jimmy’s feet crunch through the frozen chunks of ice left on the sidewalk as he makes his way back to the bar. I bend down to avoid getting blood on my coat as it runs from my nose into the snow. I stand hunched over as it drips into the snow turning it scarlet red as it spreads throughout. Suddenly I’m alone. I hear the door to the bar close behind me; it slams loud as a blast of hot air follows it. I scrunch my eyes shut trying to block out the image that has just formed in my head.
It’s too late. I begin to sweat despite the cold. My hands shaking and my chest begins to close in on itself. I suck in a breath, but I might as well be submerged in water because I can’t fill my lungs with air. I unbutton my coat, removing it; I press it to my nose and over my eyes. The same coat I didn’t want to get blood on, but I realize now that getting blood on the snow is far worse.
I’m sobbing into my coat when Jimmy exits the bar carrying a stack of napkins. I can taste the blood, salty and metallic as it runs down my throat. I want to gag. I suck in a few hard breaths, but the sobbing takes over again.
Jimmy pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me; he kisses my head over and over as he shushes in my ear. Resting his chin on my head, I cry in his arms for far too long.
“Let’s get you home,” he says taking my hand in his.
“Sorry,” I say sniffling. “I ruined our drunken-who-gives-a-fuck day.”
Jimmy laughs and pulls my hand against his chest, grasping it with both hands. “You couldn’t ruin anything if you tried. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jimmy kisses my hand and smiles at me. Dropping our clasped hands between us, he swings them a little as we walk and I can’t help but smile. Sometimes there’s one person who understands what you’re going through and to find them makes you feel like you’re not dying inside.
“She’s stubborn,” I say looking up at him.
“She always has been.” And there’s that smirk.
Jimmy stops in the lobby of the apartment building as I walk to the bank of elevators. I press the button and notice he isn’t standing next to me. I look over and find him with a sad smile on his face.
I can almost feel the hurt radiating from his body. His face is suddenly pale, all the color from earlier is gone, along with his usual confident demeanor. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his shoes. I feel so guilty. I shouldn’t have brought him here.
“Do you want to come up?�
�� I ask.
“I can’t, Leah,” he says and it breaks my heart.
“Jimmy,” I manage to choke out before I start to cry again. Walking over to him, he tips his head to the side and forces out a painful smile. “I’m sorry,” I say as we embrace.
My voice is soft in the large lobby, yet it still echoes when I ask him where he’s staying. It sounds even louder when he says a hotel, reverberating against the glass windows and bouncing back, repeating in my ears. It’s agonizing to think of him staying anywhere but with Cari. It’s wrong. It leaves my heart even emptier than I ever thought. I don’t know how it happened, but the three of us are more broken apart than we were ever whole.
Jimmy pulls away and I want to cling to him. Just the feeling of having him near has eased some of the pain I feel from losing Adam. What I didn’t realize is that I’m reeling from losing Jimmy, too. Cari isn’t the only one suffering from this—I am too. I miss him and I know it’s going to be hard to maintain a friendship with both of them.
“I’m gonna head out, okay?” he says leaning in to kiss me good-bye.
“I’ll wait for a cab with you,” I tell him.
“No offense, Leah, but you look like hell. Go upstairs and stop worrying about me.”
“Jimmy,” I protest, but he shakes his head silencing me.
“Everyone has broken hearts, but we carry on. Now go up and clean that crusty blood off your face before someone thinks I beat you.”
I throw my arms around his neck and try one more time, begging him to stay, but he still refuses. I watch him walk out the door and all I can think is I’ve lost more than I’ll ever gain back.
Cari’s sprawled out on the couch when I walk in. As soon as she turns around, her eyes widen and she scrambles off the couch and meets me in the hallway.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” she shouts and it makes my head throb.
“Fuck, Cari, I’m drunk and you’re making my head hurt.” I rub my forehead and close my eyes feeling like I might throw up. “Jimmy hit me in the face,” I mumble as I swallow back the vomit that’s rising in my throat.
That comment stops her dead. Her mouth falls open and right now I’m not in the mood for her pompous attitude. I’m done with her bullshit and her inability to at least recognize that Jimmy is trying his fucking hardest to show her he loves her. I know how he feels and it’s the worst. Knowing that there is one person in the world who can ease your pain, a person you thought loved and cared about you, but they hold it over your head, use it against you and make you miserable with pain. Looking at her makes me sick.
I lunge for the toilet and vomit hard. Cari pulls my hair back off my face and presses her cold hand to the back of my neck.
“Why did Jimmy hit you in the face?” she asks, her tone softening a little. She wets a washcloth and tries to hand it to me, but I’m now at that point where my vision is fuzzy. I grab for it, but miss and she laughs. She squats down in front of me and puts her fingers under my chin leveling my face with hers. Wiping away the blood, she asks again, “Why’d he hit you?”
“He didn’t mean to. I grabbed on to him because I was drunk and I slipped and he lost his balance and slapped my face with his hand.” It comes out all strung together and sloppy.
I pull myself up off the floor and finish washing my face in the sink. I brush my teeth, all with Cari standing next to me not saying a word. I pile my hair on top of my head in a messy bun when she finally decides to speak.
“How would you feel if I was out with Adam tonight? Like you were out with Jimmy?” I roll my eyes and push past her. She knows I’m drunk and she’s trying to start a fight. I can’t deal with her. “Huh?” she asks, this time rudely.
“It’s not the same thing and you know it. Back off.” I stumble toward my bedroom, my head pounding and my stomach churning.
“It still hurts,” she says. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t lose your shit if I was out with Adam.”
“Listen, Cari, it’s not the same fucking thing. Jimmy and I were friends before you started dating him. Wait, you were never dating him and now you won’t return his fucking calls, so I don’t know why it matters.” I huff loudly before continuing. “And I’m drunk and crabby and pissed off and just fucking done with all of this.” I slam my bedroom door and Cari swears before stomping off to her room.
I flop down on my bed and the room starts to spin. I close my eyes and pray for sleep because the last thing I need is insomnia and nightmares. As I drift off to sleep, I hear Cari crying in her room. How did this all go so wrong so quickly?
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s been four weeks since my fallout with Adam. Four weeks since Cari found out she’s pregnant and four weeks since Jimmy confessed to sleeping with another woman two years ago. And in those four weeks nothing has changed. Adam hasn’t called, Cari’s still pregnant and Jimmy won’t give up.
The boxes of wine begin to pile up near the door to Cari’s apartment. Cheap wine is easy to get at Target on my way home from work. I stopped buying bottles. Why waste money on good wine when I only use it to fall asleep. Cari joked that I should just learn to shoot it into my veins. Although it was meant to be funny, to add some humor to our fucked up situation, she knows that I’m miserable. I drink enough for both of us. Cari can’t drink, but has managed to cope with an anti-depressant her doctor prescribed; otherwise I’m pretty sure she would have lost it by now.
I wake up every morning feeling heavy hearted, remembering why I closed myself off for so long. The ache never fades, only to be worsened by the insomnia and the ever-present hangover. I find that numbing the pain only makes the moments when I actually feel worse. It’s a cycle and I let it continue because I just can’t cope any other way. The grayness of winter seems to be forever looming. It’s lasted for a while; my breakup with Adam is my winter.
“How long you gonna do this?” Cari asks as we leave the apartment for work, her eyes floating over the boxes stacked by the door. Both of us grab a few and toss them down the garbage chute near the elevator.
“Until I stop,” I respond sarcastically.
“At least it has an ending.”
A second later Cari barfs in a plastic bag she has in her purse. “Fucking baby,” she says as she wipes her mouth with a tissue. I pull a piece of gum from my purse and hand it to her. Cari looks like hell. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen. She can’t stop puking and anytime she eats, she instantly gets sick. “Sorry baby,” she says. “I don’t hate you, I swear. But if you could stop making me barf, I’d really appreciate it.”
“This would be easier if you just called Jimmy,” I say.
“Why? Would he suddenly be the one vomiting on the bus and in the bathroom and in the elevator and in the potted plant at that Italian restaurant? No. I’m fine.” She rolls her eyes and lets out a loud huff.
“No, but you wouldn’t have the fact that you’re still fighting with him wearing on you, too. This pregnancy is hard enough.”
“Whatever, Leah. You’re one to talk,” she responds and her tone is just straight up bitchy.
I shake my head. I’m not going to battle with her. We’re both miserable and misery loves company.
We make it to the office, both of us flopping down in our chairs and consuming ourselves with far more tedious tasks than necessary. Work is easy, distracting and monotonous. It pulls me away from remembering all the shit that went down with Adam and how he hasn’t called or how I poured my heart out to his voicemail or how I bordered on the edge of crazy and might still be.
Tonight we have a dinner scheduled with a client, but I send Cari home. She’s been so sick, so I agree to meet with him alone, even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.
I touch up my makeup in the bathroom and pull my hair back into a low ponytail. Nothing I do at this moment will make me look any better. I’m exhausted and defeated. Lack of sleep and too much alcohol is starting to show its signs on my face. A broken heart doesn’t look good on
anyone.
I show up at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, work protocol, always arrive before the client. I grab a seat at the bar and order a drink. Cari and I have been dealing with this client for some time now and under normal circumstances this dinner wouldn’t be such a chore. The client is a wealthy beer distributor, who has recently opted to be involved in the marketing aspect of his company. A young guy, handsome and funny, so I don’t mind meeting with him after work hours when he’s in town.
The bartender places my drink in front of me and that’s when I hear his voice. My stomach roils and a sudden flash of heat takes over my body. I close my eyes and hope that I’m wrong, although I know my body wouldn’t betray me like that. I’d know his voice anywhere. I’ve heard it in my dreams for the last four weeks; it haunts my sleep and rules my waking hours. I need a distraction before the impending panic attack that I can feel forming hits.
I turn to find Adam and a beautiful leggy blonde standing at the entrance to the restaurant. I look away quickly hoping he hasn’t seen me. I look like hell and he obviously has had no trouble getting over me. I pull my coat around my shoulders because the rush of heat has cooled and I instantly find myself cold and shaking. I suck in a breath, but it’s slow and tight as if someone’s hands are wrapped around my neck. It’s painful, but not nearly as agonizing as the thought of seeing Adam after all this time. I’m not sure what hurts more, the fact that he’s here with another woman or that he looks amazing. In the end it all hurts. The fact that he could so quickly move on, that he could say all those things to me, yet forget me instantaneously, that he could just walk away. For once I want someone to fight for me, I want someone to want me. Desperation is ugly.
As I suck down my drink trying to quell my uncomfortably dry throat, I hear my name.
“Leah Anderson, you brilliant beauty. How are you?”
“Hi, Matt,” I answer as he places a kiss on my cheek. “I’m good and yourself?”
Matt is impeccably dressed. Expensive suit, high end shoes to match the platinum cufflinks. Any girl would be lucky to be in the same room with him, yet I get to dine with him on a regular basis. He’s always had a flirtatious way about him, but we’ve kept things strictly work related. He’s a great guy, but not for me.