The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

  Damn fireworks.

  Independence Day isn’t for another week, yet the nightly cracks, pops, and explosions have already started. This isn’t the first time I’ve lost myself to fear because of the noises. They take me back to my nightmare, and it feels like it’s happening all over again.

  I can manage it a little better now from home. This one caught me off guard. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve left my house since returning home two months ago. I didn’t want to leave my house tonight, but Maggie wanted to meet up for a quick dinner after her shift. I couldn’t say no because it’s Maggie, but I should have.

  Just look at me.

  “Why are you on the ground?” Maggie asks, concerned.

  “I’m…it’s…” I release a long sigh, not knowing what to say. “I need to go home.”

  “Of course. Yes, let’s go back to your place. No problem.” Maggie extends her hand, and I take it. Once I’m standing, she says, “I’ll drive. We’ll get your truck later.”

  “Okay,” I agree, knowing I’m in no shape to drive right now anyway.

  Maggie grabs my arm, and the two of us walk toward the parking garage where she left her car. She doesn’t say anything, but every minute or so, she gives my hand a gentle squeeze to reassure me that she’s here. I’m grateful for the silence.

  Once I’m back in my house, more of my anxiety leaves me.

  “I know you’re probably starving. We have some leftovers. Sarah made a huge chicken potpie last night. It’s good. She’s becoming a great cook,” I offer as I take a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Where is Sarah?” Maggie asks as she opens the fridge.

  “At work. She’s waitressing at that new barbeque restaurant downtown.”

  “How can she be on her feet all day like that when she’s so pregnant?” Maggie pulls the glass container of food out of the refrigerator and places it on the counter.

  “I don’t know. I’ve asked her the same thing. She doesn’t have to work right now. I have enough money for all of our bills. But she likes it.”

  “All right. Well, I guess she knows what her body can handle.” Maggie places the food in the microwave. “Has she decided on a name yet?”

  “Oh no…please don’t…” I protest.

  She laughs. “That bad?”

  “Yes, that bad. It’s all she ever talks about. It’s driving me crazy. Do yourself a favor. Next time you see her, steer clear of the whole name topic.”

  “Okay.” She chuckles. She places two plates of potpie on the table and sits down across from me. She takes a big bite. “This is good.” She nods her head.

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  After a few moments filled with only the sound of us eating, Maggie says, “So, how are you, Loïc?”

  I’m sure she realizes that I’m not perfect, given the position she found me in, but I answer, “I’m okay.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  “No, I’m getting there. It’s just an adjustment, is all.” I shrug.

  “Have you been seeing a therapist or anyone at the VA?”

  “I don’t need to talk to a head doctor, Maggie. I’m fine. It just takes a while to get back to normal; that’s all.”

  Maggie places her fork down on the plate and looks me in the eyes. “I’m worried about you, Loïc.”

  “I know you are, but you don’t need to be. I’m fine. I’m good.” I offer her a smile.

  “Well, please promise me that, if you’re not, you’ll go and get help.”

  “Of course.”

  “Loïc, promise me.”

  “I promise, okay?” I stare in her eyes, pleading with her to drop this subject.

  She sighs. “All right. So, how is everything else?”

  “Fine. Not much new. I hang out here all day, watch loads of TV. Sarah works a lot. When she’s here, she’s talking, usually about the baby. She feeds me way more than I need. And that’s about it. That’s my life. What about you? What have you been up to?”

  Maggie releases the bottom lip that she’s been biting. “My life isn’t too exciting either. I’m either working or sleeping. I pick up extra shifts all the time, and when I’m at my parents’ house, I’m asleep.”

  “What are you going to do with all your money?” I ask.

  “Right now, it’s just sitting in the bank. Maybe, when things get a little easier, I can use it to put a down payment on a house. I’m not sure yet.”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “So, have you spoken to London lately?” Maggie questions.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Not since I called her and officially broke it off.”

  She drops her eyes to her plate.

  “Look, I know I owe her more, Maggie. But I just can’t right now. Don’t be disappointed in me.”

  “I’m not, Loïc,” she says reassuringly. “I know that everyone handles grief differently. You have to do what’s best for you. I just really liked you two together.”

  I don’t respond to her last statement. “Well, you two are still friends. Have you told her everything?”

  “I haven’t told her anything about you, Loïc. She doesn’t know any of the details.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not my story to tell. What you went through is a huge deal, and it’s very personal. It’s your story to share.”

  “Huh,” I let out a small sound of understanding.

  “Plus, we don’t really talk much anymore. I wouldn’t say we’re friends exactly.” Maggie shrugs.

  “You don’t have to stop being friends with her because of me.”

  “I know, and you’re not the only reason really. I mean, friends are in our lives for a reason. Not all of them are meant to be forever friends, right? I love London. She’s a great person. But our friendship just doesn’t work anymore. There are too many awkward silences, too many things we can’t talk about, you know?”

  “I can see that. So, when’s the last time you spoke to her?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her much since you broke up with her. But she did call me last week to say good-bye.”

  “Good-bye?” I question.

  “Yeah, she moved to Los Angeles. She got a new job out there. She sounded happy about it.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good.”

  This is the most I’ve been able to talk about London since I got back. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little that she’s gone, but I know it’s probably for the best—for both of us.

  I hope London is happy. She deserves it. I’ve come to the realization that happiness is no longer on my radar. For me, life is simply about survival. I need to find the courage to make it to tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

  I feel like my life has been a constant battle ever since the day I lost my parents at the age of seven. Some days, I don’t feel like fighting this battle anymore. I’m so tired. But it’s on those days that I know I have to dig deeper and push through it with the hope that it won’t always be this hard.

  London

  “Loïc’s with me always, yet the weight of his absence is paralyzing.”

  —London Wright

  “Three weeks!” I scream at my computer screen. “Three weeks!”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Londy,” my sister’s cheerful tan face speaks to me on the screen. “I didn’t mean to worry you or Mom and Dad.”

  “Then, you shouldn’t have gallivanted off to a Third World country and left us hanging for three weeks with no word, George. That’s twenty-one long-ass days we had to worry about you,” I huff out.

  “I understand, and I’m sorry. First of all, I don’t think Brazil is a Third World country.”

  “Well, it’s certainly not the Hills, Georgia.”

  “It’s not like I’m in a war zone. You guys worry too much. This is the earliest I could get access to the Internet.”

  “I know they have Internet cafés down there—at least in the bigger cities,” I argue. />
  “Yes, and the two that I came across were closed down.”

  “Well, that sounds promising,” I scoff.

  “Would you stop?” Georgia chuckles.

  “What about your cell? Don’t they have any towers down there?”

  “I dropped it in the Amazon River and haven’t gotten a new one yet,” she says casually.

  “You dropped your cell phone in the Amazon River?” I repeat, realizing how crazy that sounds.

  “Yeah, I met this guy, Paco, down in the mercado the first day I was here. He said that he had a small boat and could take me out on the river, so of course, I said yes. Well, we saw this black caiman on the bank, which is like their equivalent of an alligator. I was leaning over the boat, taking its picture, and my foot slipped. I caught myself, but in the process, I dropped my phone.”

  I cover my face with my hands. “And, now, I have to worry about you getting eaten by alligators and piranhas. Just lovely.”

  “Stop. I’ve apologized. I’m safe. Now, let’s move on to the important stuff.” She grins. “How’s your new job?”

  “It’s great.”

  “How’s Brad Pitt?” She quirks up an eyebrow, causing me to laugh.

  “Brad is fine. He’s my boss. It’s totally professional.”

  “Yeah, right. I saw him looking at you on New Year’s. He wants to professionally bend you over his expensive desk and take you from behind.”

  I throw my head back in laughter. “Well, when we went out for dinner on my first full day here, he did say something about how we’d end up sleeping together.”

  “Ha! I knew it. Ooh…you can live out the hot-boss scenario. You know, doing it in his office and stuff.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Why not? You’re single. He’s hot. Live it up.”

  “First, because this job means a lot to me, and I don’t want to mess it up. Second, because I don’t want a relationship with him.”

  “Londy, I can guarantee he doesn’t want a relationship either. A little bit of hot sex won’t hurt.” She winks, sporting a mischievous grin.

  “No, I can’t.”

  Just thinking about sex makes me feel guilty, like I’m being unfaithful to Loïc.

  “You’re single, babe. You have every right to do what you want with who you want.” Georgia gives me a knowing stare through the computer screen.

  “I know. I’m just not ready,” I admit as the ever-present pang in my chest intensifies.

  “All right.” Georgia shoots me a kind smile before she squints toward the screen. “Where are you, by the way?”

  I laugh, looking around the room with the bright green walls. “My new bedroom. It needs a paint job.”

  “Dad picked out this place?” she questions skeptically.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I told him that I didn’t need him buying me an apartment. I’m renting this one with a girl from work. I want to start doing things on my own, you know?”

  “Aw, my big sister is growing up!” Georgia says. “I can’t believe you’re sleeping in a room with that shade of green though. I’ve seen a couple of tree frogs that color down here.”

  “I might be growing up, but I still have taste. The second I have a free day, I’m going to paint it. I’ve just been working so much.”

  “You mean, you’re going to hire a painter?” Georgia puckers her lips in question.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’ll probably hire a painter. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” I stick out my tongue.

  “Aw, if you were Paige, you would have said, Detroit was built in a day, or, The grass is greener on the other side, or something equally ridiculous.”

  We both smile.

  “How is Paige?” she asks.

  “She’s good. Just working a lot. She loves her job.”

  “Oh, that’s great. Do you miss her?”

  “Honestly, I really haven’t had much of a chance to. I’m so busy here. Plus, Kate is, like, the friendliest person in the world. She never lets me feel lonely.”

  “Who’s Kate?”

  “Oh, my new roommate. She’s the receptionist at work. She’s from Biloxi, Mississippi, and she is the nicest person. I really like her.”

  “Oh, awesome.”

  “So, how is work going for you?” I ask.

  “It’s okay. It’s frustrating because I feel like I’m not making much headway, but I’m trying.”

  “Listen, George, I was watching a documentary the other day—”

  “Wait. You were watching a documentary? Who are you?” Georgia laughs.

  I chuckle. “Well, actually, Kate was watching it. I was in my room, watching Friends on Netflix, but when I came out to get a drink, I had to stay and watch it with her. It was so interesting. So, anyway, the whole documentary was about the meat industry and how it’s destroying the environment. Well, they talked a lot about the rain forests and said that people who have stood up for the rain forests against these big cattle companies have been found dead. That’s some scary stuff, Georgia. I don’t really think you should be doing that. Come home. It’s too dangerous. It’s not worth your life.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Georgia says, giving me a feeble attempt of reassurance.

  “You don’t know that. Just come home,” I plead.

  “London, people die every day from bee stings. Does that mean I should never risk going outside again, in fear of being stung? People also die in car crashes every day. Should I never get in a vehicle again? People die from food poisoning. Should I not eat?”

  “That’s different,” I argue.

  “Not really. There are a million ways in which I could die. I can’t live my life in fear of death, London. That’s no way to live.”

  “But you’re putting yourself in danger.”

  “Maybe a tad,” she says. “But it’s for something that matters. If I die from trying to protect something that I believe in, then it will not be for nothing. You know? London, I only get one life. I’m going to live it to the fullest and without fear. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll leave the world a little better off because of my efforts.”

  “Georgia,” I beg.

  “Listen, I’m a smart girl. I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I think there is a direct threat. I feel very safe down here. I’m not worried. Please don’t spend your time worrying about me. Okay?”

  “Pfft, tell that to Mom. She’s so busy trying to stay busy that she had an acroyoga tent built in her backyard. She’s gone yoga crazy, holding acro retreats and trainings at their house.”

  “Really? What does Dad say?”

  “Oh, you know Dad. He doesn’t have much to say about anything that makes Mom happy.”

  “That’s hilarious,” Georgia says.

  “Well, if you’re going to stay down there, you have to keep in regular contact, so we don’t go crazy with worry.”

  “I can do that.”

  “That means, replace your phone.”

  “Got it.” She nods. “Well, I should probably Skype Mom before she completely loses it.”

  “That might be a good idea,” I agree with a grin. “I love you, George. Be safe.”

  “I love you, Londy. Make sure to remember to tell me all the details when Brad Pitt leans you over his desk and drives you home.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head.

  “I know.” She lets out a short laugh.

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I close my laptop screen with a smile. I just love my sister.

  And, now, I miss Loïc…

  Everything makes me miss him—when I feel love, when I’m sad, when I’m tired, or when the sky’s blue. So, basically, always. The only time I don’t hurt with longing is when I’m really occupied at work. Tasks that keep my mind busy are my best resources against fighting a broken heart.

  I’m working my tail off with the paper, whipping out stories like nobody’s business—partly to show Brad and every
one else that I’m a valuable member of the team and partly to keep busy.

  I thought that moving to California would help me get over Loïc, and maybe it is. I just wish the process would happen a little faster.

  Yes, I don’t have to see the physical reminders of our relationship, like the restaurants we ate at, the park we ran around, or my old room where we spent a lot of time snuggled up together. Yet I’ve realized that I don’t need those visuals to think of him because he’s already a part of me.

  He’s everywhere—in my heart, my mind, and my dreams.

  Loïc’s with me always, yet the weight of his absence is paralyzing.

  I left all the tokens from our relationship in my old room in Michigan—gifts he’d gotten me or little mementos of our time together—thinking it would be easier here without them. But, sometimes, I wish that I had something physical to hold, something real to mourn.

  When I’m really desperate, like now, I close my eyes and picture his face. I can see it all so clearly—his ocean-blue eyes, tan skin, and the way his face lit up when he smiled at me. I press my fingers against my lips, trying to remember what his kiss felt like. I can barely remember. So, perhaps I am losing him. That thought doesn’t bring me comfort, as it should. It just makes me sad.

  A delicious aroma and a desire to escape my self-pity lure me from my bedroom. I find Kate cooking in the kitchen.

  “What are you making?”

  “Vegan enchiladas,” Kate says.

  She’s been on a vegan kick ever since watching that documentary that I was telling Georgia about.

  “They smell heavenly. What are the ingredients?”

  “Corn tortillas, sweet potatoes, beans, onions, coconut milk, and spices,” she answers.

  “I can’t wait to try them.”

  “I know. Me, too. When I was looking up recipes online, this recipe had almost all five stars, so it should be good.”

  “Awesome. What do you want to watch tonight?”

  “You know, there’s this new documentary out about the effects of GMOs,” she says as she pulls a casserole dish out of the oven.

  “Actually, I’m kind of in the mood for something lighter,” I admit.

  “That’s fine. What were you thinking?”

  “How about an episode or two of Friends?” I suggest.