Intentional (10 page)

I finished with my last workshop today at 5:00 p.m., and I’m tucked away for the night in my hotel. I look at my cell phone to see if I have any missed calls. It looks like Jeremy called at 12:00 p.m. and Sarah called at 4:30 p.m. I think their holiday office party started a couple hours ago, so it should be in full swing.

I decide to call Jeremy first. He picks up after three rings. “Hi?” His voice sounds different.

“Hi, Jeremy! I’m all wrapped up—I’m so excited to get home!”

There is a pause. “Jeremy?”

“Hey, Mattie, baby. How ehr yuhh?”

Okay, I can see where this is going. I chuckle. “I can tell your office party is going just fine.”

He must be kicking up his heels; he never has more than one drink, maybe two. “Yep. Goid paatry.” Now I’m a little worried; he can’t even speak straight.

“Jeremy? Jeremy! Can you please give Don the phone?” Don is Jeremy’s partner; he’ll know what’s going on.

“Sursh.” I wait for a minute; I can hear some fumbling, and the phone drops to the floor.

Don picks up. “Hey! How are you, Mattie?”

“I’m okay, but I’m a little concerned about Jeremy. What’s going on?”

He laughs. “Oh, he’s only had a couple glasses of our punch. I don’t think he’s eaten lunch yet. I’ll make sure he gets some food in him before I call for a taxi.”

I’m relieved. “Good. I’m glad to hear he won’t be driving when he’s like this. So he’s okay?”

He laughs. “Oh, he’s feeling no pain! He’ll be all right. I’ll make sure he gets home safe and sound.”

That’s all I need to hear. “Thanks, Don!”

That was strange. Jeremy never drinks to excess. Obviously, he needs to let off some steam. Before I can stop it, an errant thought runs through my brain. Could he be getting cold feet? I know getting married after only a year seems quick to most people, but not to us. I’ve never questioned it before, and I don’t think he has either. Jeremy seems sincerely excited about getting married. I hope he would tell me if he was feeling nervous or anything. No, I’m just being silly.

I lie down on the bed and try to relax. I need to put my questions aside for the night. As I start to drift off, I get a text from Sarah.

Sarah:
Mattie, ru back yet?

Me:
Hi, what’s going on?

Sarah:
Jeremy’s really sick. I think he threw up a few times before Don called him a taxi.

Me:
What? He went alone?

Sarah:
No. I think David went home with him to make sure he got in ok. You should probably check in on him when you get back tomorrow.

Me:
Ok—I’ll be there around 9:30 in the morning. Thanks for letting me know!

Sarah:
No problem. I’ll cu tomorrow!

That was nice of Sarah to let me know about Jeremy. I want to call him to see if he’s okay, but if he’s not feeling well, I really don’t want to bother him. I sit and consider it a bit. Oh, I can’t stand this. I dial his number, and it goes straight to voice mail. Well, I guess that settles that. I tell myself that he’ll be fine. I wish his phone was turned on!

Finally! I arrive back in Sedona right on schedule. I am so anxious to see Jeremy that I go straight to his house. I can buy medicine or whatever he needs after I do a little research on hangover remedies.

I park the car and practically run to the front door. I’ve used my key a few times, but I always have trouble with the lock. I wiggle the key a bit, and the dead bolt slides open with a loud squeak. I push hard to swing the huge door open and make my way to his bedroom. The door is cracked open, and the lights are off. Jeremy never sleeps in; he must be really sick.

My eyes are adjusting to the dark room, when I stop suddenly. No. No.
No!

As I take in the scene, the air sucks right out of my lungs. My heart has stopped. My body is numb. I think I’m still standing, but I can’t feel anything. Unfortunately, my eyes seem to be working just fine. I just can’t believe what I am seeing. Am I still alive? If so, I know for a fact that my life is over.

How can this be? As I stand at the entrance to the bedroom door, the situation becomes clear. The love of my life, my dear sweet Jeremy, is looking at me. His eyes are sad. Guilty. Ashamed. Tangled up next to him in bed is a blonde, hiding under the sheets.

My legs want to move. I have to get out of here. Maybe if I move fast enough I can convince myself that this is not happening, that my life hasn’t totally unraveled. I can’t, though. I have to know.

I walk closer. Jeremy’s expression turns to panic. “Please, no. Please, Mattie. I’m so sorry!” I move closer. The blonde digs under the covers, trying desperately to cover herself. It seems like slow motion as I lift the sheets to reveal the destroyer of my life.

I see another pair of panicked eyes. These eyes are more familiar to me than Jeremy’s. Sarah. I love her. I love Jeremy. This is not happening. I want this nightmare to be over. Please let me wake up.

Chapter 13

Two Months Later

February

Mattie

I know this has to stop. Something has to give. A person cannot die of a broken heart. Believe me, I know. I’ve been waiting—and it’s just not happening.

My days are a dreary routine, broken only by gut-wrenching sobs and the occasional bowl of cereal. I don’t know why I even bother with the cereal—it tastes like cardboard.

I look around my kitchen. Sarah and I rented this house mainly because of its top-of-the-line appliances. I haven’t used them in months. I don’t have the energy to cook.

All my energy has been taken up by survival, pure and simple. Why, though, I don’t know. Why do I bother? I know I’m in a deep depression, because my will to live has faded. Can I live without Jeremy? Do I want to live without him? I don’t even want to think about Sarah yet. Why would she do this? How could she do this? She knew how much I loved Jeremy.

The pain and betrayal consume me. I am starting to doubt if I will ever feel better. It feels like I’ve been sucked under by wave after wave of grief and misery. I can barely breathe, let alone function. I thought I had experienced heartbreak before, but I was wrong. This is so much worst than anything I could have imagined. It’s been two months, and I haven’t improved, not even a little. I miss Jeremy so much. I want his arms around me; I want all of this to go away.

Tears spring into my eyes once again. I know I’m wishing for something that will never be. Jeremy and I will never be together again. Here it comes: another bout of crying. I grab the tissues and prepare myself for another long day.

I glance around my kitchen again. I used to love to cook. Cooking to me was an expression of love and creativity that I really enjoyed. Every week, I would search through my cookbooks, go online, or go through my mother’s recipe cards to find something new and exciting to prepare for Jeremy. He was the most appreciative, willing recipient.

My memories of our lazy, happy, fun-filled cooking days stab through me like the proverbial knife. I look over at the stool where Jeremy would always sit. We would talk and laugh over a few glasses
of wine while I cooked for him. It wasn’t so much about the product as about the process.

We would talk about our day and the things that were most important to us. We had many deep conversations over pasta or whatever else I was cooking. I loved our spontaneous breaks during the evening. Jeremy would jump up off his stool and yell, “Break time!” then grab me and kiss me senseless.

I look over at his empty stool. I’ve cried every day, almost nonstop, for two months. I will myself not to cry, but my body doesn’t listen. I didn’t think it was possible for the human body to manufacture this much fluid. I reach for the tissues once again.

I think of my life in two parts: before “the Event” and after. I’m in the after—and it’s endless.

It doesn’t help that my job allows me to stay in my house day in and day out. The job that once gave me so much pleasure is now allowing me to become a prisoner of my own volition. It’s the computer revolution-although, as of late, I can’t say I have done much work. My graphic-design business will be a thing of the past if I don’t bid out more projects. I love my job, but the thought of creating a web page or anything else isn’t doing it for me right now. I closed my
office space last month. I don’t need it anymore. I don’t want to leave the house.

I look down at my pajamas. The once-cute pink flannel bottoms (which are now more of a gray color) and matching pink T-shirt look and feel like I’ve been wearing them for months. In reality, it’s been twenty-three days.

This would be about the time when my friends or family would step in to rescue me. There’s a problem with that scenario. I’m an only child, and my parents died seven years ago. I lost contact with my high school and college friends when I moved to Sedona. The two most important people in my world are gone—Jeremy and Sarah. I have no one.

So who is going to rescue me? I’ve lost every person who is important to me. Now I understand the saying “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” That is exactly what I did. I had the love of my life and my best friend. I had my great career. I thought I had it all. I did. I really did. Past tense.

I look around at the beautiful town that I thought I loved. It looks back at me with emptiness. I have not built a life here. I’ve lived here, yet I am a virtual stranger. I went into the shops, cafés, and
bookstores and got what I wanted from each, but not what I needed. Friendships. Connections. Hindsight. Yeah, I know.

I am sitting in my disgusting pj’s, and I realize that I miss Sarah. A feeling of betrayal rips through me. I am ashamed of myself. How can I have these lingering feelings? Unwelcome memories flood back. I see a ten-year-old Sarah. She was my best friend and partner in crime. I think about middle school (oh, the hours of gossip) and high school (we both made the cheerleading squad). We were inseparable. We built our lives around how we would remain together. At one point we decided we would marry twins, live next door to each other, and figure out how we could get pregnant at the same time (we didn’t have a definite plan, but it seemed easy enough).

After my parents died in the car accident, Sarah’s parents took me in. That’s when we really became sisters. Her parents helped soothe the gaping hole left by the sudden absence of the most important people in my world. They treated me like their own. Dan and Nancy Bailey—I will love and appreciate them always.

I wish I could go to them now for comfort. I can’t. They would feel so horrible about the dissolution of my friendship with Sarah. I would never ask them to choose sides. I will leave them be.

It has been almost two months post breakup. Shouldn’t I be feeling human again? Isn’t there a button somewhere that I can push to turn off the love?

At some point, I am going to have to look in the mirror. I’m scared. I’m afraid I’m going to see the person I fear—twenty-four years old, alone, and bitter.

Three Months Later: March

I have stopped wishing for death. Is this an improvement? I know there are at least five stages of grief. I think I’m stuck at stage one. To grieve properly means to move forward. I’m not doing that. I have not accepted the loss yet.

My heart yearns for Jeremy. I know I have to accept this, this new life, this life I have no interest in living.

There is something inside me that is trying to come out. I know it’s my inner strength, but I don’t want to see or feel it yet. If I do, it will mean that everything is real. Right now, I’m living in a bubble of pain that promotes a false existence. It’s an existence where I can tell
myself that none of this happened. I feel the pain and I cry, yet I am still in denial.

I have run out of cereal and most everything else. It looks like I’m going to have to go out into the world once again. I force myself into the shower and decide that, yes, I will wash my hair. I stand and let the torrent of water wash over me. It’s almost scalding hot, but I don’t want to move just yet.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but the water heater in our rental has just coughed up the last bits of hot water. I jump out and grab my clothes. It doesn’t matter what I wear—I don’t care how I look.

I make my way to the local grocery store. This is the first time I’ve been back since Jeremy and I broke up. I realize why I haven’t come here for so long: this place holds so many memories.

Jeremy loved to watch me cook, but he would also want to come with me when I shopped. When I asked him why, he’d just reply, “Any excuse I have to be with you, I’ll take!”

I look down the aisles, remembering how Jeremy would toss produce right over his shoulder into the cart. It was a game to him, not always ending in a score. If he missed, he would sheepishly pick up
the ruined apple, bananas, or whatever, place them in the cart, and buy them anyway.

Jeremy was the most honest person I knew. That thought stings for a minute. I am going to have to readjust my thinking. What Jeremy did with Sarah was not honest. It’s called cheating for a reason. It went against everything I believed about him. I was with him for an entire year. How did I miss such a fundamental flaw in his character? Even after my experience with Evan, I didn’t doubt him at all. I don’t know what part Sarah played in all this, but I assume I missed something with her also. I feel so stupid.