“Oh my god, are you okay?” She’s breathless, and I can almost see my best friend’s ice blue eyes blinking wide.
“Of course!” Even I hear the tremble in my voice this time. I clear it away. “It’s not like that. It’s cool. I don’t want to make a big deal about it.” Finally, I’ve arrived at the truth.
She’s quiet a beat. “But it kind of is a big deal.”
Closing my eyes: Inhale… exhale. “I was hoping I could get my old job back. What are the chances of that?”
“At the Jungle Gym?” I can’t blame her for sounding skeptical.
“I love that place! And I need a job that’s flexible for school.”
The line is quiet. I know Kenny is trying to work this out. I’ve gone from engaged to the first man I ever loved to acting like our breaking up is no big deal and I want my old life back.
I get it.
Still, I’m not going to encourage any problem solving. My problem is solved. I don’t want to discuss it or dissect it. My insides are far too raw for a post-mortem.
“I think Rook would be happy to give you your old job back,” she says slowly. “All our clients ask about you, and Pete complains daily nobody can make his cinnamon bun smoothie but you.”
Pete. I haven’t thought about him in more than a year. A personal trainer at the gym, he’s carried a torch for me since the first day he was hired. He’s sweet, incredibly fit, very handsome, and completely unappealing to me. Still, we dated off and on for a year before Stuart came along and blew him out of the water.
“Yeah,” I say, a little less enthusiasm in my voice. “Pete.”
“Just for the record, I don’t believe a word of this shit,” she cuts through my melancholy reverie, “but I love you, and I’ll talk to Rook tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Ken.”
We’re quiet, and I don’t really want to disconnect.
“You okay?” she says softly.
“I will be.”
We end the call, and I put my phone on the table. My suitcase is in the doorway where I left it, and I retrieve it, rolling it to my bedroom. I stop at the small room I converted into an art studio. Lining the walls are figure paintings of Stuart. We’d only just decided I’d move to Princeton before we left for Great Falls, and I hadn’t moved hardly any of my stuff to his plush, penthouse condo yet.
Walking through the room is like visiting a museum of the most beautiful time in my life. Stuart was the first man I ever loved, the first man I ever slept with, and as such, I kind of became a little obsessed with sketching his body. It helped that he has an amazing physique, tall and lean, with lines that would make Michelangelo weep.
I would sit on the floor wrapped in nothing but one of his button-up shirts, sketchpad on my knees frantically drawing and shading him. Stuart naked, facing me, reading a paper. Stuart from behind, naked on the bed. Stuart sitting up in bed, lines along his shoulders, across his abs. Stuart sitting on the balcony in only his jeans, the sun highlighting all the planes of his square jaw.
Stopping in front of that one, I squat, my black sheath dress rising up my thighs. I reach out to trace my finger along his jawline, along his profile, his straight nose, full lips. Closing my eyes, I hiccup an inhale. In my dream, Jessica had his lips, his perfectly straight nose. Her hair hung in long, chestnut waves like mine, but her face was her daddy’s. She even had his eyes.
I push against my knees and leave the room. I go to my suitcase and unzip the top, reaching for the envelope I’d hastily shoved inside. I take it out and without opening it, I put it on the stand in front of that portrait. The pain is winning this time.
In my kitchen, the bottle of wine I picked up at the drugstore waits on the counter. It’s a screw top, very classy. I couldn’t give a shit. Tonight, Cupcake Chardonnay and I are going to get through this pain together, and tomorrow, I’ll gather up all my fragments and keep moving forward.
17
Cutting
Mariska
A month has passed since I returned to the Jungle Gym. Just like before, I’m behind the juice bar making smoothies and gearing up for fall semester at OCC. Kenny still works here as a personal trainer along with Pete, and she’s out on the floor in her all-black trainer gear working with a young mother.
It’s her favorite kind of client because she loves chatting about her little boy Lane and being a mom. Her ice blue eyes sparkle as they chat, and her long purple hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. I can’t bring myself to tell her what I’ve lost. I can’t talk about it yet.
Kenny’s boyfriend Slayde had been our maintenance guy at the gym for a while, but now he’s a contract private investigator with Alexander-Knight LLC. It’s the same investigative firm Stuart founded with his commanding officer in the Marines, Derek Alexander. When Stuart went back to Saudi to work in private security, his younger brother Patrick took his place. That’s how Slayde became involved.
Patrick is the father of Kenny’s little boy, but he was a surprise from the very brief time they were together. They share custody, but Patrick is now married to Elaine, and Kenny is with Slayde. It sounds more complicated than it is, but it works.