The Break-Up Diet: A Memoir (22 page)

When Josh finally awoke, he peeked into the room, saw Kevin and me crying, and quietly closed the door. I heard him restart the DVD he had fallen asleep watching the night before.

I called Mom to see if she had heard from our relatives in upstate New York.

Her voice was almost matter-of-fact. “I'm sure they're fine. Binghamton is a long way from New York City. You should turn off the TV and go about your day. You can't change anything by sitting glued to the news and crying over it.”

Mom was always logical. But her reasoning just didn't make sense to me. Being three thousand miles away from the terrorists’ target didn't mean we were safe and unaffected. Exactly the opposite. It meant none of us would ever be safe again.

The tragedy shook Kevin to the core.

A lot happened in my life after 9/11. Kevin left me a little over a month later. From that point on, my world had reduced in size to a microcosm that revolved around a broken heart. It was human nature. Our perception of the universe changes in relation to the random acts that directly affect us. My armchair philosophy. While the families who survived 9/11 mourned the loss of their loved ones, I mourned the loss of my own. On that day, every American lost something.

At the time, I didn't know that stories like mine had played out across the nation. The terrorist attack made Americans question what and who was most important to them in their lives. In that single, tragic day, wheels were set in motion: divorces, break-ups, and for the lucky ones, marriages.

I opened my eyes and looked out across the lake. Expensive homes drew a picket border along the horizon. I wondered if the people in those houses had everything they wanted in life. Was their home on the lake the expensive box where they stored their happily-ever-after?

I still wanted to find “happily-ever” and work my way toward “after.” Maybe it wasn't exactly a feminist ideal, but I was okay with that; I believed I could have love and an equal partnership. The hard part was finding someone who fit into my future and my present.

Watching a pristine sailboat in the distance, I thought about the last time I had come to the lake. Josh had paddled a kayak across the glassy surface, showing off his skill at keeping the craft upright. As each day went by, he became more independent. For the last thirteen years, it had been a delicate balance of my responsibilities as a mother and my needs as a woman. Both were equally strong. And equally important.

My cell phone rang
The Munster's
theme. Home. I pulled the phone from the pocket of my nylon jacket and pressed it to my ear.

“Mom, did you forget? Winter league practice starts tonight. We need to leave soon.”

“I didn't forget. Pack your gear, I'm only a couple blocks away.” I walked to the car, carrying the chair and the still flickering candle.

the list revisited

Monday, September 23

“How's the homework coming?” I leaned against the doorway to Josh's room.

He swiveled in his chair. “I need help with the new project in the life skills book. I have to make up a budget for the month and go grocery shopping. It says to use our real electric bill and stuff like that.”

“It's almost noon, how 'bout you take a break for lunch. Make a sandwich or something, and I'll help you with that later.”

Josh followed me out of his room. “Mom, can I have some money? I want to go to McDonald's and have lunch with my friends from the high school. I'll come home right when they go back to school. Can I?”

“I suppose. But stay out of trouble and make good choices.” I ruffled the spikes of his hair.

The “good choices” comment was my standard mother mantra, but I wasn't worried about Josh. He was more mature than most of those high school kids I'd met.

After Josh left, I wandered around the tiny house. I felt restless and couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. My cell phone rang the
Mission Impossible
theme. And then I knew. It was Ryan. And I didn't feel like answering the call.

On a rational level, it didn't make sense. Ryan behaved like the textbook, picture-perfect boyfriend, but even calling him my boyfriend made me wince. I should've basked in his attentions, but strangely, I often found them more irritating than comforting.

I needed to talk it out with someone. I tried to think of who would be the most logical, unemotional person I could call. I figured Spock was currently out of the galaxy, so I called my mother.

The phone rang once and she picked up. “Mom, I'm conflicted about Ryan. Can I bounce some thoughts off you?” I flopped across my bed to talk.

She informed me that she was on her way out the door to run errands. “Make it brief,” she said.

I launched feet first. “All we ever do is have sex. I mean, that's not totally a bad thing, the sex is good—”

“That's probably more information than I need,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“Moving on…”

“We barbeque, watch Monday night football, listen to the same music. He's easy to be around and he loves me. Overall, he's got a lot of good traits that are on my list, but just not the education or the communication skills. I can't talk to him about anything.” I ended with a sigh.

“So why are you staying with him?” She administered the Vulcan mind freeze.

Good question.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I figured maybe I could be average happy like most people. Average seemed safe. Not completely fulfilled, but not miserable either. I could hold out for Prince Charming, but what if he didn't exist? Or worse, what if I found him, but he didn't want me?

“Maybe I thought I could just feel intellectually fulfilled by talking with other writers and wouldn't need to have that with Ryan.”

“Is that something you can live with for the rest of your life?” she asked.

I shifted the phone to my other ear and sat up against the pillows, “I think so. I mean…we have fun together just hanging out… He's good with Josh. He's kind to me.” Even to my own ears, the reasons sounded weak.

Mom brought the discussion to an end. “If that is what you choose, then you must completely accept it from the minute you wake up every morning.”

I hung up the phone and curled onto my side.

Why did that sound so much like a death sentence?

almost a dream come true

Thursday, September 26

I'm not sure why I went to the golf tournament. People milled around me and I felt like the stationary horse on a carousel. Then I saw him.

Kevin's eyes pierced right into me and gripped my heart. A wave of longing flowed over me and I wasn't sure how to react. It had been so long since I'd seen him. He came to me slowly, almost hesitantly.

“I've missed you,” Kevin said.

That's when the tears fell. They raced down my cheeks, collected along my jaw, and spattered onto my dress. I searched his face. Afraid to say anything, I stood woodenly, daring not to breathe, soaked in tears.

“I still love you and I want to get back together. I can't stand to be away from you anymore,” he said.

His words were enough to break the dam. “Oh Kevin, I love you so much. I've missed you so very much. I'll quit the club and move to Los Angeles with you. Nothing matters anymore. I just want to be with you.” It all came pouring out in a rush.

He stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms. I melted into him and cried hard. Relief and joy flooded my entire body.

I was startled awake by Ryan's hand sliding up my bare thigh as he spooned against my back. The morning light pried between my damp eyelashes. I had carried my tears across the threshold of my dream. For just a second, I wanted to pretend it was Kevin curled against me, but reality shredded the thought. It wasn't Kevin; it would never be Kevin again.

Inside, I peeled away from myself, leaving Ryan holding only my shell. I curled around my bruised heart, hoping to stop the bleeding sorrow. Ryan's hand scalded my thigh and I couldn't stand to lie there a second longer. “I have a ton of stuff to do today,” I mumbled as I pulled away.

Under the shower spray, I leaned against the tiles, my arms wrapped around my body. The heat of the water made my tears feel cold sliding down my cheeks. It was a long shower. Memories and daydreams swirled around me, mixing with the steam.

Drying off slowly, I agonized over reentering the bedroom and seeing Ryan's face haloed in my sheets. I loitered in the bathroom, trying to wish him away.

The rhythm of applying body lotion set my logical mind churning. Kevin was physically out of my life, but still such a presence in my heart and in my head that it was impossible to move on. God knows I tried.

Maybe I needed an exorcist.

Okay, mildly amusing thought, but my therapist said that a more suitable solution would be to determine if Kevin was still in my heart and in my head because I imprisoned him there.

Psychobabble mumbo-jumbo.

I was still in love with him. Yes, I conceded to that. My therapist said until I got over it, I was just wasting Ryan's time. And she said I should cut him loose. I let out a slow sigh—cleansing and steadying.

I opened the door to the bedroom. Ryan was dressed and the bed was neatly made. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“You seem kinda distant this morning, so I'm gonna take off and give you your space, but before I go, is something wrong? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No.” I brushed off the question, not wanting to go into the real reason for my mood. Something of disbelief in his expression made me tack on. “I just had a very disturbing dream.”

“It was only a dream.” He reached out to wrap me in his arms.

“I'm all too aware of that.” I pulled away.

He took my hand and guided me to sit with him at the edge of the bed. “Was it about me?”

An involuntary laugh came out with my negative reply.

“Was I even in it?”

“No,” I said. “You weren't.”

“What was it about?”

I told him once when we began dating to never ask a question if he couldn't handle the answer.

“I dreamt Kevin and I got back together.”

“Well, are you going to?” His voice tightened around each word.

A bitter laugh danced around my response that it would never happen.

“But you want to.” It was half question, half statement.

Unwavering, my eyes locked with his. “I'd do it in a heartbeat.”

He studied my face for a moment.

“Then what the FUCK am I doing here?” he yelled. “And why the FUCK are we even together?”

“I don't know,” I said quietly.

Ryan launched off the bed, grabbed his keys, and was out the door in less than a minute. I heard him leave at least fifty feet of tread marks on the asphalt when he sped away.

There, it was done. I padded to the bathroom in my slippers and began blow-drying my hair. But I knew it wasn't totally over. There would have to be that uncomfortable exchange of personal property.

Bent at the waist, with my hair flipped over, the whir of the blow dryer masked Ryan's return. I saw his feet planted in the doorway—he had nice feet, for a guy—maybe he came back because he forgot his shoes. I continued to dry my hair upside down.

Ryan reached out and unplugged the cord. “We need to talk.”

I followed him to the bedroom and sat cross-legged on the bed.

He paced along the end. “I just don't get it,” he said. “Sometimes I don't fucking understand you!” He flung his hands in the air. “Most of the time, I don't fucking understand you!”

Motionless, emotionless, I let him go on.

“When are you going to figure it out? He left you! He doesn't want you anymore!”

My quiet litany of “I know” didn't quell his storming. I could feel my eyes welling up, not from the anger in his harsh words, but because I knew what he said was true. And that hurt more than anything else could. I knew Ryan was only lashing out because he was hurt and frustrated. It wouldn't take a session with a therapist to figure that out.

“Why don't you open your eyes and see that you have someone right in front of you who loves you and wants to be with you, right here, right now. If you don't get over him and move on, you're going to be miserable and alone for the rest of your life.”

The continuous mantra of “I know” was still my only response. There was nothing to argue about. Everything Ryan said was true and I knew it.

My mind wandered into that warm place where I kept memories of Kevin wrapped in tissue and saved like precious artifacts. A spool of familiar scenes played over and over in my head like a
Twilight Zone
marathon.

How did I ever get to this point in my life? I'm living in this place where nothing makes sense except clinging to the strongest love I've ever felt.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored doors of the bedroom closet. The natural curl of my hair had crept back in from an incomplete blow-dry. Barefaced, tear-streaked, and frizz-headed, I looked like a witch.

Ryan sat on the bed and smoothed a wrinkled frown from my forehead with his thumb. “Don't give up on me. I want you to know I'm willing to take the risk that this relationship won't last because I love you and I want to be with you, no matter what.”

“I'm just a waste of your time,” I said.

“Let me be the judge of that.” The intensity of his gaze bored into me. “And stop trying to spare me from getting hurt. I know what I'm getting myself into and it's my choice.”

“Ryan…” I sighed, wanting to find a way to make him understand. “This has nowhere to go as long as I'm still in-love with Kevin. I have nothing to give you.”

I wondered why he couldn't see the sign blinking over my head in blue neon: Emotionally Vacant.

“Well, I think you're worth waiting for and I just hope that someday you'll love me at least half as much as you love him.”

The whole ordeal left me completely wrung out. I finally told Ryan I needed a nap and he had to leave.

“Don't call me. Don't come by. I just want to be alone,” I said.

After he left, I crawled under the covers to nap away my persistent thoughts of Kevin.

Or maybe to catch up with him in another dream.