“But what?”
“But is this really going to help you get over him?”
Her question is a valid one, but try as I might to pack a full dose of toughness around my heart, the wound Todd inflicted is clearly still there. It hasn’t closed. And nobody knows how much it still hurts as well as Hayden and my girls, who have been here for me, taking my late-night phone calls and rehashing every moment that led up to Todd’s treacherous voicemail. They’ve tried to get me into yoga, they’ve sent me random hot guy of the day pictures, and they’ve engaged in more retail therapy than nearly anyone but a fashion blogger could handle. They’ve done everything to buoy me up, and it’s very nearly worked.
But this morning sent me all the way back to start. I didn’t pass go. I didn’t collect two hundred dollars. So I need to find another way. This has to be the other way out of the heartbreak.
I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know! Yes. No. Maybe. I mean, Hayden. I thought I was over him but seeing him today was a reminder that I’m not. So maybe this is what I need for closure. To get back out there. To make it a game. To make it fun. To even the score.”
“Right. I get that. And I’m not saying it’s a bad idea. It sounds completely, totally one hundred and ten million percent fun. But in the way that a reality show is fun. Then you’re left at the end of the day with reality.”
“And reality is I’m the loser, and they’re the winners, and the only way I can see getting any sense of closure is to try to turn things around. Crying hasn’t helped me feel better. Getting angry has helped me feel better. Hell, even shopping hasn’t helped me feel better, and up until Todd left me I was just about sure there was no ill shopping couldn’t cure. But here I am. Poke me in the heart like he did –“ I say and demonstrate by poking myself in the chest – “And I turn into waterworks at a restaurant and camp out in the bathroom for an hour to hide. I hid in a frigging bathroom today. That’s what I’ve been reduced to. I have to do something different to move on.”
She nods, and even if she might not agree with me, she’s my friend and she’ll be there. “All right, crazy lady. You know I’m by your side, no matter what.” She drapes an arm around me. “If this is what you need, then let’s make it happen.”
* * *
My crew is at the kitchen table. The reluctant Hayden, tall and leggy, chestnut brown wavy hair, librarian glasses on her face, sits next to me. Erin is to my left, her big red plastic hoop earrings waggling back and forth as she bounces a bit in her chair, brimming with energy as always. Her earrings frame her small, pert face, matched with her short, sandy brown, spiky pixie do. My sister Julia, with her reddish-brown-almost-auburn hair, long and lush, sits next to her. Hayden’s married, Erin lives with her boyfriend, and Julia and I are the fully single ones.
My straight hair falls into my face, as it often does, so I push it behind my ears. I take a deep breath, then begin. “So here’s why I called you all here tonight. To let you know Todd now drinks coffee in the morning, dines at the Best Doughnut Shop in the City, and gave up hard-boiled eggs. And, oh, there’s one more thing. He and Amber had a baby and they named her Charlotte.”
“Are you serious? They took your name?” Julia asks, her jaw dropping. “My God, sweetie, when did this happen?”
I don’t want to relive this story over and over, don’t want to feel that knife again expertly slicing me into pieces. So I recount the events of the morning as clinically as I can, then move on to the topic of the Meter Man before my throat hitches. There will be no more crying. Only marching forward, and this pursuit is my new battle cry.
“And now, my friends, we have Exhibit A.” I grab my pirate girl purse and fish out the parking ticket from the inside pocket. I place the ticket on the table and smooth out any leftover wrinkles. “A solicitation for a date.”
Erin claps. “Yay! I have been counting the days on my calendar until McKenna was finally ready to start dating again. This makes me happier than when my favorite men’s swimsuit model books me for a massage.” Erin is a licensed massage therapist and works at a day spa in Noe Valley.
“And we all know how happy that makes you,” Julia says.
“What? He’s hot, and I don’t do anything but rub him down,” Erin says, then takes another drink of the spiked hot chocolate that Julia, with her bartending skills, has so diligently provided for the crew.
“You know it’s impossible to use the words rub and down in the same sentence without it sounding naughty,” Julia says.
“I know,” Erin admits with a grin. Then she raises her mug. “Let’s toast to dating again. And maybe to a good banging.”
Erin’s a little, how shall we say, sex-obsessed? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But it’s just the way she is.
“May the next man in McKenna’s life be one of those heroes in a romance novel – rich, good-looking and perfect in every way,” Hayden adds.
Julia pipes up. “Call me crazy, but I’m going to toast to you falling in love.”
A part of me wants to raise a glass right along with her. To say wistfully, “wouldn’t that be something?” Because, really, that would be everything I’ve ever wanted. It would be everything I still want. I was born a romantic, and bred a romantic, and I’m still one, even though I’ve been on a most decided detour for the last twelve months. Then I remind myself to stay focused on the prize because love smacked me hard on the cheek, leaving a red mark that still stings. I can’t go looking for it again. If love comes along for the ride, so be it. But that feels a bit like winning the lottery right now, so I pull out a sheet of paper printed from a Web page. “This a background check on one Dave Dybdahl, the requester of said date. I ordered a criminal check. He comes up clean.”