Starting From Broken

by F. T. Zele

  While I’m scrolling through my phone, the air gets thick. I get spooked for a moment, thinking Jacob is near and I’m just feeling his spirit, when the bell above the door jingles and in walks my nameless guy. He doesn’t notice me, so I duck my head and pretend to continue reading something on my phone when my name is called. I walk over to the pick-up counter, keeping my eyes from looking at him. I shouldn’t look at him, knowing he has somebody.

  I grab my cup and slowly walk back to the table, making sure I don’t trip or bump into anybody while I keep my eyes glued to the floor. I sit down for a moment, hoping I can at least get his name when they call him to get his drink. I know, some sick torture I put myself through.

  “John!” is yelled out, and I look up, seeing another guy grabbing his coffee. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing my mystery guy’s name is not the generic “John.” He doesn’t look like a John. He looks like he should have a more intricate name, something that would match up to his incredible looks. I’m not saying there aren’t some good-looking John’s out there; the name just doesn’t suit him.

  “Braxton.” The next name is called.

  I gently lift my eyes and see him walking up to the counter and grabbing his cup. Braxton, shit! If that isn’t a fitting name for him. He turns around, and before I can look away, he notices me. I glance away, acting as if I don’t see him, playing it off like I don’t realize anybody else is in the shop.

  My insides are shot; the fluttering feeling of butterflies taking flight in my stomach makes me feel hypnotized. I peek through my dark hair, and for the first time curse it for not being transparent. I notice him making his way over, and I feel like fleeing. I don’t want to make a fool of myself, so I do what comes naturally to me. I run. Well, not literally, because that would make a scene, but I drop my phone into my bag and snatch my cup and swiftly walk out of the coffee shop, never looking back. Embarrassed and nervous, I dash to my car, jump inside, and shoot Sophie a text.

  Me: When can you make it over?

  Sophie: I can be there in about 20 min.

  Me: Sounds great. Meet you there.

  Sophie: See ya soon. Xoxo

  With that, I make my way back to my house so I can be there before Soph arrives, but first I have to stop at the box store to grab some boxes. Yes, they actually have a whole store for all different size boxes. I know, I was in awe when I discovered this information as well. I was going to straighten up before she got there, but that seems useless, knowing we are going to make the place a clutter of garbage bags and boxes in no time. Since I haven’t thrown away one piece of paper that has Jacob’s name on it or anything for that matter that belonged to him, there is a lot to do.

  I purchase the boxes and make it home just in time as Soph is pulling in behind me. I hop out and open the back door to grab the boxes.

  “Hey, here, let me help you with those. Shit, how many boxes did you buy?” she says as she takes the boxes out of my hand.

  “Oh, this isn’t all of them. Did you know they have a whole store dedicated to boxes? Every size you could ever want. I bought one of every big size they had. I was just simply impressed,” I state as I pop the trunk and pull out more boxes from the back.

  “You really need a hobby or a man, because if you get this excited over boxes, you might have something wrong with you.” I ignore her, knowing how ridiculous I sound about these boxes. I’m trying to distract myself from the reality of cleaning out Jacob’s stuff. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to do what needs to be done, without having a breakdown. I need to move on. “So, where do you want to start?” she asks me as we walk into the house. I know exactly where we need to start.

  “The bedroom. I can’t sleep in there anymore with all his stuff. I either sleep in his old clothes or don’t sleep at all. Pathetic, I know.”

  Once we build the boxes, I bend down and write donate, sell, and trash on them, hoping to fill as many as possible for donations. I wouldn’t feel right about throwing away all his belongings when there are people out there that could use them.

  “I’ll just take everything out and make a pile here, so you can go through it and decide if you want to keep it or not.”

  “No, everything goes in the different boxes. Just take all his clothes and put them into the box. If I have to think about it, I’ll make up some sort of reason why I should keep them, so don’t give me any options. Only pieces of clothing go into the donations box,” I say, knowing I can’t make decisions.

  I clear out his drawers and empty them into the boxes, throwing away his boxers, because, come on, let’s face it, that’s just gross. Nobody wants someone’s old underwear. When I grab the last handful of boxers, I feel something other than fabric. I reach inside and pull out a blank envelope. Turning it over in my hand, not knowing what it is, I proceed to open it. Slowly, I pull out what looks to be a handwritten note. The air is ripped from my lungs when I see it is Jacob’s writing, but not to me. It’s written to a Sasha.

  I can’t breathe. It’s like my heart is dying all over again. I fall flat on my ass with a thud. All I can do is stare at this letter to another woman. Nausea creeps up, and it takes all I have to keep myself from losing my stomach.

  As a tear slips from my eye, I quickly wipe it and stash the letter into my pocket, hoping Sophie doesn’t see. I promised myself once I got out of the facility, I would never be weak again, but this could be the one thing that breaks me. Was I so blind that I didn’t see this happening? Were the last ten years of my life a huge lie?

  “I’ll be right back. You know what, hurry and box all his shit up and don’t worry about what’s written on the boxes. I just want it all out of the fucking house now,” I angrily say to Sophie. She looks at me perplexed as to why the sudden change of attitude.

  I stomp off quickly to the bathroom and slam the door. I lean my back against the door as I sink to the floor, watching my world slowly crack in front of my eyes. I’m so disappointed in myself that I let this happen. How the fuck did I not know?

  “Liz,” Sophie says, followed by banging on the door, shaking me from my pity party. If she sees me this way, it will just get her even more alarmed about my stability, so I answer her as calmly as I can, not moving an inch from my spot.

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Are you okay? What was that all about?”

  “Nothing. What do you mean? I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute,” I say as I lift myself off the floor. The feeling of my life being taken away from me for the second time is too much to handle.

  “Um . . . Okay. You sure don’t seem fine.”

  “I am. Don’t worry.”

  I want to call it a day on this whole cleanup effort, but now more than ever I need his stuff out of this house and out of my life.

  Once I feel I can put on a happy face for show, I make my way out of the bathroom. Sophie is standing by the door with her arms crossed, looking like she’s ready to ream me a new one. Her expression softens when she looks at my face. I guess I don’t look as tough and unfazed as I thought.

  “So, are you gonna tell me what that was about, or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?” Her arms are still crossed, not showing any sign this is going to be ignored.

  “I told you nothing. Just leave it alone.”

  “Well, if it was nothing, what would I leave alone? Just spill it!”

  Even though I don’t want to tell her anything, I know she isn’t going to let this go, so I give in. She is my friend and maybe can help me make some sense of this. I hand her the letter from my pocket and sit on my bed. While she reads it, I watch different expressions pass quickly on her face, like she’s shocked, but doesn’t want to let me see her reaction. They vanish as fast as they appear.

  When she finishes, she gazes at me, and I can tell she is trying to find the words to console me. Sadly, what comes out of her mouth isn’t at all what I had hoped to hear.

  “Liz, why do you think I pushed so hard for you to come out with me and mo
ve on? I always had this strange feeling about Jacob, but I didn’t know he was doing this. I just knew something was off. It’s like you guys turned into this old married couple who didn’t have that . . . spark anymore and were just friends at the end. I mean, Jacob was a nice guy, and what not. I saw you trying everything you could to hold on to him, like you knew the end of your relationship was coming. You can’t tell me you weren’t doing everything in your power to get it back to how it used to be.”

  “Soph, I really don’t want to talk about this. I want his shit out and to put this all behind me. I can’t fucking deal with this right now,” I say, dejected and wanting this to go away.

  “If you don’t deal with this now, you won’t deal with it ever, and you will let it grow and grow until it overcomes you. So get it out. Let’s talk about it,” she says clearly.

  “You want to talk about it? Fine, let’s talk about it. What do you want to hear? That the last decade of my life has been a lie? I loved him with everything I had, and then he died. My whole world fell apart. It fucking fell apart, Soph. I tried to fucking take my own life just to be with him. And now I find out he was going to leave me when he got back? When all I wanted to do was be a family? I miscarried our baby and lost control. All for what? For someone who didn’t give a shit about me?” Trembling, I can barely get it all out. I can’t believe what I’m dealing with.

  “You know he cared about you. For you to say he didn’t isn’t true. He just wasn’t in love with you. That doesn’t mean he didn’t love you, hon. It wasn’t working for him, and it wasn’t working for you, either. If you had to try that hard to make things work, then maybe it was already over. But to say he didn’t care about you is the anger talking.”

  “Whose side are you on anyway? You know what? Let’s just finish this. I have a whole house to get cleared out. I want it gone. I want it all gone. Everything that is his or was his, take it away. Here is an empty box. Every picture of us goes in here. I don’t want to see any of it. Just make it disappear,” I say, handing her a box so she can go around and remove all the pictures of Jacob and me. I don’t mean to use her as my punching bag, but right now, my insides are caving, and I feel like I’m walking a thin line of keeping my sanity. I’ve worked really hard to maintain my ability to deal with the bullshit life throws at me and not end up back in the psychiatric ward where I swear I sometimes belong.

  I was starting a new chapter in my life, trying my hardest to move forward and live again. Every moment I’m positive and content with how my life is going, I will always be slammed back to reality that this life isn’t meant for me, just like I’ll never forget how my mother gave me up so she could fuel her alcohol-addicted life without having to be a parent.

  Sophie returns to work, removing pictures and everything that was a part of this past false life I was living while I sit on my bed in a daze, wondering what the hell is next for me.

  It’s been two weeks since Sophie and I cleared everything out of the house. Since then, I have regressed to my monotonous life of work and sleep, knowing everything I ever thought or felt was based on a fictional thought in my head. I was jaded, trying to hold on to any part of Jacob I could while completely ignoring what was right in front of me. It’s not like it was hidden well. Fortunately for him, having a maid that did our laundry and cleaning, I never looked in that drawer. Stupidly, I had hoped when he came home, the news of me expecting was going to magically rekindle the fire that went cold as ice.

  Sophie has called every day trying to break me out of this funk and get me out of the house. I just haven’t felt ready to face this part of my life. Things were going well while I was trying to rebuild what I thought I had left of my life. I don’t know what’s real or fake anymore. How can I ever trust again, knowing I’m blind to what’s in front of me?

  I have transferred all aspects of the charity to the office manager at Jacob’s old practice, telling her I would help her in any way to make sure things operate smoothly. It was only something I was doing so I could hold on to any part of him I thought I had left. It’s only right I don’t continue running it, as I wouldn’t want my hatred to be directed toward the work others are doing for good.

  The only thing I need to do now is find a new house to live in and sell mine. I can’t continue to live in a place that harbors so many memories of a time I thought I was at my happiest, when it was solely created on a fabrication of feelings.

  Sitting at my desk flipping my pencil over and over, I can’t concentrate on my own work. I have been damn good at my job. Even through the past two years of crap, I have held steady, pouring every ounce I have had into my career, knowing it was all I had left.

  “Liz, Sophie is on her way back. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen,” Jen says through the intercom. As I am getting up, Jen blasts through my door, interrupting me from telling her how uncalled for this is.

  “Don’t even say a word. I didn’t come here to listen to you justify your behavior. You have to snap the fuck out of this. It happened. You can’t change it. Yes, you were betrayed, but Jacob isn’t here. It’s unfortunate, and since he won’t ever be here again for you to take all this anger out on, I will not sit here and watch you take it out on yourself, again. I can’t, and I won’t watch you self-destruct. Not this time, Liz. Work is done for the day, so get your ass up and get into my car. We’re going to talk this shit out. We are fixing this, even if it’s the last thing I do.” I can see Sophie shaking, the resentment and adrenaline oozing out of her. I try to protest her demands, but I’m shut down the second I start. “Don’t even think you’re getting out of this. Pack up your crap and let’s go,” she says with her hands on her hips, begging me to buck her.

  Seeing as though I don’t have the energy for a confrontation in my office, I grab my phone and slam it inside my purse. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about this. I know Sophie can’t take any more of my loathing; I’ve pushed her farther than any friend should be pushed over the years.

  Once I have my stuff, I walk out of my office, pass Jen’s desk, and see the look she gives Sophie, like a high five with her eyes. Fuckers, they had this planned. Jen’s probably been giving her updates while Sophie has been keeping tabs on me. I have never been one to be naïve. I understand their concerns, but they truly need to just let me be and learn how to deal with this shit on my own. I don’t want to feel torn down all the time. I want to feel free and soar with the birds.

  I walk defiantly to the car, following behind Sophie and hoping if I keep my distance, I won’t feel the need to have word vomit. She hits a button on the remote on her key ring, unlocking the car that is taking me to an unknown place. Apprehensive, I plop down in my seat and smash the seatbelt into the buckle.

  “You ready to do this?” She giggles like she has some secret I don’t want to know about.

  I remain silent, biting my tongue, having no interest in making this night worse. Since I have been completely ambushed, I reach into my purse and pull out my small pouch of makeup and freshen up. I’m all for my own pity party and moping around, but it’s not how I like to present myself in public.

  Once I close the mirror and push up the visor, we are pulling into Jade. Fuck! Out of all the nights I would want to run into Braxton, tonight is not it. I don’t want to get wrapped up in feelings I can’t comprehend, especially when I know he has a lady in his life. All I need is another shady-ass guy to play me for a fool. I don’t know this guy, but he seems like the type who doesn’t care about having only one girl. I came to that conclusion the night we had the stare down while he was wrapped up in someone else’s arms. By the looks of him, I’m sure he can have any girl he wants. With one flash of his dimples, this inexperienced girl will surrender, wanting to make all my dreams at night come true. He’s not what this broken heart needs right now.

  “Ready? Oh, who cares. You’re coming whether you’re ready or not.” She jumps out of the car, smoothing down the front of her dress, drawing stares from others mulling
around the front. As she hands her keys to the valet attendant, my fate is sealed. I’m not getting out of this anytime soon, so I play along and follow her inside. Maybe I’ll feel better once I get a drink in me and not feel so forced here.

  “All right, just don’t go crazy, please. It was a long day,” I say as we head toward the back that is now considered our regular spot. We grab the last two vacant spots at the bar, and instantly, the same bartender comes right up to our place.

  “Hey, ladies, nice to see you again.” He winks at Sophie, and if I’m not mistaken, she has that look in her eye as I peek over at her. She has definitely tried the goods. “The usual?”

  Do I even have a ‘usual’? I swear, I have had something different every time I’ve been here. I don’t give two shits about what I drink, just as long as it takes the edge off my frustrations.

  “Sure, sounds great to me as long as the alcohol content is high.” I’m not sure I meant to sound so uninterested, but that’s the way things have naturally been coming out of my mouth. He doesn’t wait for Sophie’s response, which is a dead giveaway that she has spent some time with him.

  Once he brings our drinks, I smile politely, unable to get the cup to my mouth fast enough, begging for the moment the liquor starts to run through my veins and I can finally relax. Slyly scanning the bar, I have yet to see him. I don’t know why that makes me feel letdown since I didn’t want to be here tonight.

  “So, Soph, why did you feel the need to drag me here tonight?” I ask, attitude seeping out of every word.

  “Other than needing you to snap the hell out of this mood you’re in, nothing. You’re so damn depressed lately, and I will no longer sit around and watch you waste away at something you can’t change.” Her eyes plead for me to agree with her. I do agree, but I don’t know any other way to cope with the mess that has been thrown my way. I didn’t choose this. I was dealt this hand and don’t know how to play it.