Heart on a Shoestring (14 page)

“Getting re-sized. Why?”

“Just wondering. You know, Derek refuses to change too. Somehow, I think, we managed to fall for each other, but it’s weird. It’s almost like we’re too distracted with trying to change each other that we miss out on enjoying each other.”

Heidi pondered my words. So did I. The silence between us vanished when the door opened. Patrick.

I stood. “I better get going.”

“No, no.” Patrick entered the living room and stood in front of Heidi. “I want you to hear this too. Perhaps you could benefit from it.”

Oh, dear.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking.” He took Heidi’s hand. “I know things have been rough. We’ve been through a lot with Riley’s surgery, Andy’s parents, my parents, disapproval on every end. Obstacles upon obstacles. We’ve bypassed the honeymoon and somehow landed right in the crazy busy lifestyle estranged married couples struggle with and we’re not even married yet.” He looked at me. “Reese and I were just talking and he told me something. He says it every time he talks about Myra. He says, ‘If it’s not worth the struggle, then it’s not a prize.’” His eyes darted back and forth, from his beloved to me to Riley. “Obstacles won’t keep me from loving you, Heidi. And you’re right about the phone thing. I’m sorry. I really am. There’s a recurring theme all around us. Miranda, you and Derek are no exception. Sometimes the only obstacle that keeps us from loving others is ourself.”

I swallowed and hung my thumbs on my belt loops. “My situation is a lot different than yours.”

“No,” he said. “It’s really not.”

“He’s right,” Heidi said, standing and wrapping her arms around Patty boy’s waist. “You need to let go and move on. Grow into someone new. Allow yourself to experience real love for once.”

“Hey.” I faked a smile. “How’d this get turned on me?”

I walked to the door, opened it, and stood in the humid July afternoon.

“Where you going?” Heidi said.

“To show him he’s not an obstacle and I’m officially done with being one myself.”

I  stepped off the plane and walked down the terminal. Hands clenched, jaw tighter than a guitar string tuned by a five-year-old, I dialed her number and got no answer. She probably didn’t recognize the number. I left a message. Told her we needed to talk. Truth is, I was making sure she still lived in Los Angeles. Yes, after I already landed there. Stupid, but I’m good at being irrational. More than Miranda might think. Or hope. Maybe even more than she’d approve of. Yes, in fact. Definitely more than she’d approve of.

I got myself a rental car and drove to her old place, knocked on the door, and seethed inside. Hate isn’t a word I use often, but I’d grown so cold toward Ashleigh that I’m pretty sure it’s the only word I applied to her. No, I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to hate anyone and that’s why I found myself standing on her doorstep as a ripped dude in boxers opened the door. He scanned me up and down. I couldn’t get passed his shaved and shiny pecs. What the?

He stepped outside and peered around. “Can I help you?”

“Does Ashleigh still live here?” I said.

“Yes.” He sized me up again, like a butcher preparing the cow. “Who are you?”

“Derek Rhodes.” I knew he wouldn’t recognize the name. “She home?”

“No. She said she had to go take care of something work-related in Pennsylvania. She left this morning.”

“In Pennsylvania?”

“I don’t keep tabs on her, man.” He stepped inside. “I’m her brother, not her pimp.”

Nice. “Right. Thanks.”

He shut the door and I walked away, back to the car. Pennsylvania? Now what?

Shawn.

Ashleigh went to Pennsylvania because of me. Shawn must’ve told her that he saw me at the diner. Great. What a waste of three hundred bucks.

I drove off and headed toward the beach. Reminded me of the time Ash and I flew to the East Coast to watch the sunrise over the Atlantic, then flew back home in time to see it set over the Pacific. Back when life was about fun and stupidity.

And not a lick more. 

I landed in Virginia, got a rental car, and drove home. Time to move out of my apartment and plan for a place in The City of Love, as Miranda called it.

By the time I parked in front of my humble abode, the clock in the car said 8:28am. I rubbed my eyes, opened the front door, and walked up the stairs, down the hall, and saw her, slumped in front of my door, sleeping with her head on her designer hand bag. Long, blonde hair pulled back with that poofy top girls do. Reminded me of a poodle. Not a fan. I stood in front of her. She didn’t budge. Her slender, flawless legs stuck out of her extremely short black dress like toothpicks. Her dress seemed more like a long shirt. A skintight long shirt.

Her eyes were closed, but I could still see the heavy eye makeup, as if the bright red lips and rosy cheeks weren’t enough. Miranda wore a lot of makeup too, even blue and orange eye stuff, but something about it seemed more natural. Or maybe it was just Miranda.

She rustled and lifted her head. I offered her a hand. Half of me wanting to rip it off her arm, but it was time to be honest with myself. And her.

“How did you find me?” I said.

She stood in front of me and bent over to pick her scarlet red shoes off the ground. “Shawn said you were in Philly. So I went there. Then I got your call and it was a Virginia number. I was about to come home, but my brother called and said some guy named Derek Rhodes stopped by. I figured you would’ve changed your name after all that happened, so I looked up an address for Derek Rhodes in Virginia. There were only two. The first one wasn’t you. So here I am.”

I twisted the keys in the lock. “Surprised you figured all that out.”

“I’m not as stupid as you think, David. Remember all the tests you cheated off of in college? That was me, you know.”

“Book smarts are different than street smarts.” I swung my arm toward the doorway. “Come in. We need to talk.”

She stood next to the door as I closed it. Awkward silence.

“Want to sit?” I said.

A knock on the door. I turned and opened. Miranda panted, out of breath. “Derek, we need to talk. I’m sorry a thousand times. I realized you’re right and I do love you. I wa—”

Ashleigh stepped into Miranda’s view. Smirking. I shook my head and grabbed Miranda’s hand. “It’s not what you think. Come inside, please. I want you to hear what I need to say.”

Miranda’s eyes watered. “You have a prostitute here? I never would’ve thought.”

“Ugh!” Ashleigh shrieked. “I am not a prostitute.”

“Miranda, I can explain. I need to explain. Please.” But before I could finish my sentence she was down the steps. 

Ashleigh laughed and rolled her eyes. “You gave me up for that?”

“I didn’t give you up. The breakup was mutual and it was a good decision. Wait here.” I ran down the steps and out the door. Miranda’s car sped out of site, but I ran and caught up with her at the red light. She stared ahead, avoiding my eyes. I banged on the window, pleading her to open it and hear me out. Finally, the window cracked and she whispered through tears, “This is why I don’t give my heart away.” 

The light turned green. 

And she left.  

Ashleigh fidgeted on my couch. I wanted to kick her out, but not until I said what I needed to say.

She pulled a mirror out of her bag, smeared more lipstick on her lips, and pouted at her reflection. “Know why I’m here, David?”

I shook my head. “Don’t really care, but I have something I need to say.”

She batted her fake lashes. “Sure you don’t want another fling before I leave?”

I stood so fast the blood rushed to my head. She crossed her legs, revealing more of her thighs. Boiling, I knelt down and flipped the coffee table, shattering glass all over the wood floor. She rolled her eyes and pouted in the mirror again. That’s it. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you ever going to learn?” I yelled. Loud. From a deep place in the heart of a man that can only come out when every single button is pushed. And they were pushed. My circuits were fried. “I came after you not because I want you. Not because I ever wanted you. The only reason we even had what we had was because I was lost and you were pushy. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. Don’t even know what the hell it was, but it was the worst time of my life and the only reason I wanted to talk to you was to tell you I was sorry. That I take the blame for what happened. I’m not saying this for you. I’m saying it for the girl who stole my heart. And after all that we’ve been through you want to flick your legs around and invite me into the place that’s caused you so many issues so many times before? You haven’t learned a thing. After everything, you still refuse to become a nice person.” I picked up her hand bag and dropped it on her lap. “This ridiculous stuff that you waste your money on won’t be going with you to the grave. It’ll be taken to the nearest poor box and someone will sell it to make a little money. Such a waste of life.”

“Don’t be such an ass, David. I came here to give you something.” She handed me a box and for the first time since I had known her she shed a tear. “I want you to have this and I want you to know something ... I haven’t forgotten. Not a day passes. I named him after you.” She walked to the door and wiped her face. “Maybe I’m still prissy and can’t figure out how to be anyone other than who I am, maybe I’m a lot of things, but you don’t know what I feel every day of my life. You aren’t inside of me. I’m not as horrible as you like to think. That day changed my life. I still can’t figure out if it’s for better or worse, but it definitely changed me.” One foot out the door, she turned. “And please, stop pretending to be such an asshole. You never fooled anyone.”

She closed the door behind her. I sat on the couch, staring at the glass on the floor and the box in my hand, wincing.

It was small. Nowhere near heavy. And it rattled when I shook it.

I tried to open it, but stopped myself.

The thing that really upset me . . . it wasn’t the skimpy girl in his apartment or the look on his face when I caught him. And I appreciated his sprint to the red light, I really did. But he gave up. So easily. I sped off. He walked back to his house. Didn’t get in his car. Didn’t pick up his phone. No texts or calls. Maybe he had a good reason, but these are the things that made me want to retreat. Back to the place of fleeting romance and fugitive dreams. The place where my heart sat crammed away and out of reach. The place where I controlled how and when I felt pain.

Is that even healthy?

I needed ice cream. And cake. And brownies. And a root beer float. So I made them. Ella called when I sat down on my couch with my delightful collection of sugars. I didn’t answer. She texted instead.
Miranda, hope all is well. Quick invite: Sarah is coming home in three weeks. Having a welcome back party at our house. Small and intimate. August 14 at 2pm. Bring my brother. I can’t get ahold of him. 

I responded.
Where at?

Ella:
Our house. Tylissa is moving in with family down south. Sarah is going to take one of the spare rooms for now. Just till her and James get married. 

Me:
Okay. I will be there. Not sure about your bro. We are in a rough spot.
 

Ella:
What happened? 

Me:
I poured my heart out as Barbie stepped into view.

Ella:
What’s that mean?

Me:
Nothing. No worries. I’m good. It will be okay.

Ella:
I know he loves you. He has never been one to talk about it, but I can see it in his eyes.

Me:
You see hearts in skulls and bones.

Ella:
Love you, Miranda. :)

She did love me. That I knew. Hard to imagine Ella doing anything less than loving. Her brother on the other hand? Yeah, not so sure about such things.

I stuffed my face with enough saturated fat to choke an army, then watched a romance movie for kicks. Is it just me or does everyone like to dwell in their heartbreak a little? Only seems fair. A broken heart deserves as much attention as a whole heart, maybe even more. A little sympathy, a dash of pity, a quarter cup of tears, a third of chick flicks, four cups of sugar, a good night of sleep, and the heart would be good as new.