The Break-Up Diet: A Memoir (8 page)

“It's gone.” I reached to smooth my hand from one temple to the other. “I'm sorry to ruin the night, did you want to go back inside?”

Jaimee surveyed the parking lot. “Nah, it looks like everyone is leaving anyway. Let's just go back to Del Taco and go through the drive-thru. I'm starving.”

The valet pulled up and opened Jaimee's door. Before she could get in, a staggering Colin Farrell wannabe invaded her personal space. “Hey, you're fiiine. Where ya goin’?”

“Excuse me.” Jaimee plucked his hand from the frame of her car, climbed in, and closed the door.

“Yeah, you think you're hot shit, well that's only a 3 Series BMW, so try to get over yourself,” he spit-sprayed the side window with his slurring.

Who says there are no princes in Newport Beach?

norman rockwell slept here

Thanksgiving
Thursday, November 22

Josh sprinted from the car to the front door. As I climbed out of the seat, I juggled the keys and my purse. “Don't just barge in. Knock first,” I called out to him, bumping the car door closed with my hip.

“Mom, I practically lived here. Sandi won't care if…” The sound of his voice faded as he ran inside.

I entered the living room just in time to catch the reunion.

“Look at you, you're so big.” Sandi hugged Josh tightly against her apron. “Tom, come look at Josh, he has little hairs on his face.”

“How's it going, big guy?” Tom pulled Josh into a hug and clapped his back. “Don't you have an important birthday coming up?” Tom pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and settled himself back on the couch.

“Only twenty-one more days ‘til I'm a teenager.”

Visiting the Loomis family was like time travel back to the 1950s.

It was the kind of family I always wanted, but never had. Meals together, the entire family gathering to watch the classic movie channel in the evenings. On the weekends, Mom baking, the kids making crafts, and Dad puttering in the garage. It was all so perfect.

Perfectly enviable.

Norman Rockwell would've blown his load all over the canvas sketching a Loomis family scene.

Josh and I were invited into their world when Sandi answered an angst-filled ad from a struggling single mother seeking reliable childcare for a six-month-old baby boy.

“I'll only watch him for a few weeks until you find a permanent sitter,” Sandi said.

How can twelve years pass so quickly?

After all the greetings were exchanged, I sat and swiveled on a wooden stool, breathing in the smells of Sandi's cooking. It had always been like this. She moved around the small kitchen like she moved in her own skin. The gray hair dusting her temples was the only marker of passing time.

I watched Sandi sprinkle flour into the bubbling gravy and stir it with a large spoon.

She turned to face me. “I'm glad you came, we're all glad you came. It's important to be with family for Thanksgiving.”

“I should drive out to visit more often…” My half-promise sounded weak as soon as the words crossed my lips.

Josh and I had only moved sixty miles away, but somehow the time just flew by. Sandi's house was a safe haven, my surrogate family. I almost forgot how much I'd missed them.

Her smile told me she understood.

In the early years, I knew I served as a walking cautionary tale for her daughters. They had the chance to observe the trials of a young woman who was living outside of their Mormon lifestyle. Way outside. But it didn't bother me because Sandi treated Josh with the same love that she showed for her own children. After time, the distinct lines of our differences faded. Sandi became a mentor, a mother, and a friend.

Her daughters, now with families of their own, moved between the hot stove and the dining area, setting the long table, and tending to their spouses and gurgling babies.

Josh sat on the carpet and set up a block tower with three-year-old, Shay. “Is she my niece or am I her nephew?” he asked.

“You're her uncle,” Tina, Sandi's eldest daughter said.

“I can't believe I'm an uncle three times already.” Josh watched the two babies crawl across the carpet.

I sat quietly and soaked it all in. I wanted this. Kevin and I could've had this.

We sat down as a family to a hand-passed parade of All-American tastes. The conversation buzzed around me like the hum of a favorite song. I felt so close to everyone and yet so far away.

The tangible love in the room left me feeling more alone than ever.

five hours in purgatory

Monday, November 26

“I'm coming by to pick up the last of my clothes, the golf pictures in the living room, and a few things from the garage. Are you going to be around?”

Absently, I wrapped the phone cord around my index finger until it turned magenta. I hadn't seen him in over a month. “I'll be here,” I said quietly as my stomach twisted and bucked.

“I was hoping maybe you could be somewhere else while I'm there. It would be easier for me,” Kevin said.

Fuck easier. What part of this is supposed to be easy for me?

I should have said it, but “Okay” came out of my mouth instead. I think I meant: “Okay, I understand it will be easier for you.” But it really didn't matter because I had no intention of going anywhere. I hoped that maybe if Kevin saw me again, he'd change his mind.

“I'll be leaving here in about ten minutes,” he said before hanging up.

As soon as the handset hit the cradle, I ran to the closet and scanned the racks. I wanted to look good, but didn't want to look like I was trying too hard. That would be too humiliating.

I changed outfits five times, finally deciding on something that was simple and casual. I surveyed my reflection in the mirror: a pair of relaxed-fit Calvin Klein jeans that showed I'd already lost fifteen pounds in a month, and a powder blue T-shirt that hugged my petite, braless curves. No shoes, just barefoot. I fluffed my hair, brushed my teeth, tinted my lashes with mascara, and dabbed a light coat of clear gloss on my lips.

Perfect.

Outside, I looked pulled together and in control. Inside, I was an emotional train wreck.

I padded down the hall to the homeschool zone. The third bedroom that we originally intended as a guest room was easy to set up with a computer desk, overstuffed reading chair, and a row of bookcases. I gave Josh free rein to decorate the walls with his skateboard posters.

With his back to me, I saw Josh engrossed in playing a game of
Myst
on the computer. “Done with your homework yet?” I asked.

He jumped like he'd been shocked with a cattle prod. “Geez Mom! You scared the crap outta me!”

“Guilty conscience?”

“No, I finished. See all this that I did.” He handed his essay and two worksheets to me. “I did the Aleks math program too. You can check the hours log online if you don't believe me.”

“I'll take a look at it later. I just wanted to tell you Kevin is coming by to pick up some of his things.”

I saw Josh's lips pull together in a taunt line. His eyes narrowed slightly. “I don't want to see him. He left and he made you cry.” His whole body quivered with tension. “I hate him.”

I had no idea what to say to Josh's outburst, so I stepped beside his chair and stroked the top of his head. He leaned against my abdomen and I held him quietly for a moment. I couldn't tell him his feelings were wrong, but I wouldn't fuel them either.

“You don't have to be here, if you don't want to,” I said softly.

Josh stood up from the chair. “I'm gonna ride my bike to Carl's Jr. and get a burger,” his voice cracked slightly, “then wait for Adam at the bus stop.” He grabbed his jacket off the chair and left the room. “Call me at Adam's when he's gone.”

I wandered back into my room and flopped across the bed to wait. It would take Kevin at least an hour to drive down from Los Angeles. I opened a book and tried to pass the time by reading, but the words blurred across the page. The time passed with me staring at the binding between the same two pages, feeling sick to my stomach and wondering what it would be like to see him again.

When I heard the front door open and Kevin call up the stairs, my body flushed hotly, making my hands shake when I closed the book. Kevin came around the corner of the landing and stepped into the bedroom doorway.

Seeing him crushed my heart and my lungs felt too tight to breathe. I walked over and looked up into his clear blue eyes. In a passing thought: I wondered if he'd say anything about my short hair.

“Hi.” The word escaped my lips in a breathy whisper.

Wordlessly, Kevin wrapped me into a hug. Pressed up against him, I could feel the length and warmth of his body through his clothes. The familiar feeling, the shape of his back in my hands, was bittersweet. I buried my face into his shirt and inhaled his scent.

So many memories, so many possibilities—I couldn't let go.

We sank to our knees on the floor. Minutes passed and the tears flowed between us.

“I am so sorry.” He touched my damp cheeks with his fingertips. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Kevin, I love you so much, please don't do this.” Sobs choked my plea into choppy gulps.

His apologies ran unchecked. “I tried. I did. I tried, but I can't anymore. I'm so sorry, please don't hate me. It's so hard for me to do this, it's killing me.” His eyes begged me to understand.

“Then why?” I looked into his eyes while teardrops printed exclamation points on my T-shirt.

He rose from the floor and scrubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “This is why I didn't want you to be here. I knew this would happen.”

Kevin walked into the closet and began gathering his polo shirts from the hangers. I stepped beside him, lifting several from the dowel.

“Don't help, Annette. I can't handle that. You don't need to help me pack.” He paused with an armload of clothing and looked into my eyes. “Just stop.”

Kevin walked out of the room and down the stairs to his truck.

I sat on the vanity counter with a pile of his shirts across my lap and waited for him to return.

There had to be a way to make him stay.

Kevin came in and reached to take the mound of shirts. I placed one hand atop the pile to stay his motion.

“Tell me why. Tell me why I'm not the one.”

I had to know.

“Don't make me do this.” His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head.

Sobs tore at my throat. “It's me. Isn't it? Something about me isn't good enough. Just admit it.”

“No, Annette. I won't say that.”

“Then tell me what it is!” I pushed against his chest.

Kevin gathered my arms together and pulled me close. I could feel the weave of his shirt absorbing my tears.

“Just let go,” he whispered.

“I can't. It's been two years. You can't expect me to just go on like we never made plans for a future together. You said I saved you after your divorce. You
said
you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me…”

He was close. Close enough to kiss. The tip of my tongue slid out to wet my lips. Just once more. I wanted so much to taste his kisses and feel him want me.

“Things changed.” Kevin pulled away and straightened his shirt. “Can't we just leave it at that?”

“Are you saying you don't love me anymore?” Kevin's sweet face swam in my blurred vision.

“I'm saying I had to start pulling away and turning off my feelings for you. Too many things weren't working.”

“I don't understand. What wasn't working?” My mind scrambled to make sense of his reason.

“I can't give you and Josh what you need right now. I need to focus on my golf if I ever expect to make it on tour. And you need to focus on your writing so you can get out of that club.”

I took a brave shot at levity. “Maybe it will work out for us in the future… sometime down the road…when we're both rich and famous.” I tried to smile through my tears.

My comment released him from our emotional tug o’ war. “Maybe it's serendipity,” he said.

A raspy laugh clawed at my chest. That wasn't a typical guy thing to say.

I reached out to touch him intimately. “We could just have sex.”

Kevin moved away from my hands. “You know we can't do that.” He took another step back. “Because it would never be just sex.”

There wasn't anything left to say, and there was nothing I could do to make him stay. My heart begged him not to go and promised I'd do anything just to be with him, but no sound crossed my lips.