Dear Heart, I Hate You

Jules: You’re such a fucking coward. I never pegged you for being so weak. I’m glad I got out when I did. I don’t miss you. I hate you.

I wanted to press Send—God, how I wanted to press that button. Whatever had happened, he should have been man enough to just tell me. I was a big girl, I could have handled it.

My finger hovered over the Send button on my phone. I was tempted to deliver the words that would give me a moment of sick satisfaction, but I ended up pressing Delete instead.

Any communication from me at all made me the weaker of us, and I was tired of playing that role.

Five Weeks, One Day

Jules

Five weeks and one day, that was how long Cal had been gone from my life. I only knew this because I checked the calendar at work today and actually counted how long it had been since he’d disappeared. Somewhere between the routine of going to sleep at night and waking up each morning, I’d stopped keeping track of the days.

I no longer looked at the pictures on my cell phone either. One night before bed, I’d transferred them to a storage album online where I kept copies of all my digital photos. I’d kept two of my favorite pictures of us in my actual phone gallery, but I’d stopped looking at them.

And when I did happen to see them in my gallery, they elicited nothing from me. My breath no longer caught in my throat, my heart no longer stuttered, the wind no longer felt knocked out of me.

They had simply become memories, a part of my past, which seemed strange now. I had been so sure that that particular time would never come, that I’d always be affected by Cal’s leaving, but I had been wrong. It no longer hurt, and for that I was grateful. As time passed and I realized that he was gone forever, a feeling of contentment had settled over me, or maybe it was acceptance. It happened so slowly that I hadn’t even noticed it until it was all that I felt. I had finally accepted that Cal was gone . . . and I simply didn’t care about the rest anymore.

It was blissful to be free of the hurt.

“So, there’s this restaurant and bar re-branding on Beach tonight, and we got invited,” Tami singsonged in my ear as I drove home from an evening house showing. “I know it’s last-minute.”

“Sure,” I agreed all too quickly. “Let’s go.”

“Wait. Sure? You’ll come without me forcing you to? Oh my gosh, are you finally over that dickhead completely?”

I couldn’t help but bristle at the term. Even with everything that Cal had done to me, I didn’t consider him that. Sure, I’d had my moments when anger consumed me and I hated his very existence, but I didn’t feel like that anymore. Every emotion tied to him felt like I’d experienced it so long ago, even though it really hadn’t been that long at all.

“Do you want me to come out with you or not?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry. He’s not a dickhead.” She faked a cough. “Meet you there?”

“I just need to change,” I said as I glanced down at my pants suit. I looked fine, but it wasn’t what I wanted to wear out to a bar in Santa Monica.

“See you in a bit,” she said before giving me the exact location on Beach Street.

I was actually excited and looking forward to getting out of the house for something not related to work. I’d been burying myself in house showings for weeks now, and I needed a little reprieve.

After rushing home to change, I pulled up in front of the restaurant and was thankful they had valet parking for the evening. The last thing I wanted was to deal with parking and walking numerous blocks in the heels I was wearing. My yellow sundress dipped low in front, emphasizing my cleavage as I waltzed into the bar like I owned the place. I felt as good as I looked, and I reveled in that fact.

Tami waved at me, grabbing my attention immediately as I weaved through the crowd toward her seat at the bar.

“You look hot,” she said. “And I ordered us both a drink from the themed menu. Here’s yours.”

She pushed an orange drink toward me. I picked it up and sniffed at it before taking a tentative sip.

Taking in her bright pink irises, I said, “New contacts?”

“Less devilish, right?” She winked and I laughed.

“At least these are truly pink. How many compliments did you get before I got here?” I knew damn well that guys would compliment her on her eyes, no matter what ridiculous color they were.

She rolled her eyes. “Just two. One from the

guy at the door and the other from the bartender.”

“Oh, Tami, your eyes are amazing,” I said, mimicking a delusional male’s voice. “I’ve never seen anyone with neon pink eyes before.”