My eyes close as the phone in my hand buzzes again and I don’t miss how Kat looks at it, a question in her eyes.
“It’s James.” I answer her unspoken question
She chews the inside of her cheek and doesn’t acknowledge me in the least.
“I quit and I’ve just got to sign some paperwork.” The lie slips out so easily. I’m almost ashamed at how easy it’s become to hide the truth from her and disguise it as something normal and relatable.
I don’t know if she can tell I’m lying, or if she just doesn’t care anymore. She leaves me alone with nothing but a small nod in the bedroom we built together.
My blood turns cold and I stare at the open door. The pictures from the hall taunt me. I still hear the laughter. I remember the softness of her skin when they were taken.
The phone goes off again and it pisses me off.
I grit my teeth as I read the messages.
Get here in the next hour.
Out of spite, there’s no fucking way I’ll be at his office by then. I make sure to hit the message so he knows I read it. He can wait.
Kat
It’s supposed to hurt this much. I remind myself of that over and over again.
That’s what a breakup is. It’s pain. It’s removing someone you once loved from your life. Erasing them as if they don’t exist. As if they’ve died. And that’s the most painful thing one can experience.
That’s why it hurts so much. Because I’m supposed to be in agony.
“You look tired,” I hear Jules say before she rests her hand on my shoulder, bringing me back into the moment. Standing in my small kitchen, with its clutter and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, she’s so out of place here. “Are you all right?” she asks me softly.
Before I can answer, the sounds of Maddie and Sue laughing over something drift into the room. The wine has been flowing, and half of the only remaining box of pizza is left on the counter. It’s what I said I came in here for, another slice, but really I’d just remembered my time with Evan last night and then this morning and I wanted to be alone for a minute.
“You can tell me anything, Kat,” Jules says in a voice drenched with empathy. I’ve always loved the person she is. But never more than now.
“I don’t think I’m all right and I don’t know if I ever will be,” I answer and then arch my neck to stare at the ceiling, keeping my eyes open and trying not to bring this night down any more than I have.
“Is it normal to cry so much?” I ask her. “To be this emotional and this exhausted?”
“When you lose someone you love, yes.” She answers easily and calmly, sending a wave of calm through my body, but even that makes me feel that much more exhausted.
“I wish I was past this stage.”
“It’ll happen before you know it. One day, the reminders won’t hurt so badly. The mention of his name won’t cut you to shreds. One day it’ll feel like it’s supposed to be this way.”
“But I don’t know if it is,” I confess to her and then Sue ambles in from the dining room.
Her wineglass clinks on the counter as she sets it down and then she catches a glimpse of me, her expression morphing to one of sympathy. An expression I learned to hate growing up, but right now, while I’m weak and feeling so lost, it’s an expression that makes me lean into her when she opens her arms.
“You’re all right, babe,” she says softly and wraps her arms around me. Sue’s arms are filled with warmth and she kisses my cheek too. “It’s all right babe, we’re here for you.”
“Aww,” I hear Maddie coo as she makes her way into the room.
“Let it all out,” Sue says but I shake my head, my hair ruffling on her shoulder as I sniffle. Sue smells like wine. She sways a little and squeezes me tight. She’s definitely more than tipsy.
“I’m sorry, guys. It wasn’t supposed to turn into this.” I push out the apology, wishing we were having the fun night I promised as I stand up straight and pull my shit together. Sue tries to hold on to me a little longer, but I push her away. I can handle this. At one point in my life I was so good at being alone.
“I’m fine,” I tell them, stepping away for a moment and shaking out my hands. “I’m sorry.”
It takes a few deep breaths and Sue refilling the empty glasses of wine on the counter for me to get over whatever this breakdown was.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a sad time no matter how much you don’t want it to be.” Maddie’s the first to say something and Jules nods.
“It’s going to be okay, though,” Jules says and then Sue chimes in with, “You’ve got us, babe. We’ll always be here for you, and that’s all you need.”
“Well, maybe a vibrator too,” Sue adds a moment later and a genuine laugh erupts from my lips. It’s short and unexpected, and fills the room. But it felt so good to laugh. To smile. To feel anything other than this darkness that’s been a constant shadow over me.
“Do you want another?” Sue asks me, nearly spilling the wine from a glass poured too full as she tries to hand it to me. I haven’t had a drink all night.
“If I do, I’m going to pass out.” Just as I answer, another yawn hits me. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to sleep through the night.”
“I’ll take it,” Maddie offers and immediately sets it back down on the counter.
“So it’s really over?” Sue asks and then takes a sip. For the first time, I see something in her eyes I haven’t before. I see sorrow. Genuine pain. As if even Sue was rooting for us. Sue, the valiant heroine against men who cheat and lie.
I nod, ignoring how the emotions swell up again. I haven’t told them that he cheated on me back when we first started dating. I can’t admit it. I don’t want to say the words out loud and make them real. I don’t want them to see him as a villain. I love him too much to paint him in that light. Or maybe it’s the shame that I still love him even after knowing what he did.
“We’re just in two different places and it’s better to be apart.” I shrug and add, “But we always were, you know? Like this shouldn’t be too shocking.”
“He doesn’t want to change?” Maddie asks. There’s always hope in Maddie and I wish I could hold on to that.
“Men don’t change,” Sue says woefully. “I’m sorry. I’m doing it again,” she says, shaking her head. “Sometimes it still hurts, you know? And I don’t want you to go through what I did. I promise you, it’s the last thing I want for you.” Her voice gets a little tight, but she shakes it off quickly.
I love Sue, and I remember how hard her divorce was on her. But I swear this is different. It has to be. Her ex was vile and brutal. Evan isn’t any of that. He’d never hurt me intentionally. He’s just … he’s just Evan.
“He said he wants to fix it,” I answer as I watch Maddie sip from the glass without picking it up. Instead she crouches down, bringing her lips to the rim to sip. My lips tug into an asymmetrical smile for just a moment at the sight.
“It’s not what he says.” The hardness in her voice is absent, but there’s still a finality in Sue’s statement. “It would be hard for him to change, wouldn’t it? He’s been this way for years.”