She sighed. “No, it’s not that, it’s just the minute we got the nighttime sleeping thing all ironed out, my darling R-O-X-Y decided not to take N-A-P-S.”
I snickered. I loved it when two-year-old Roxy was in the room and Lucy had to censor her conversation. Her mommy cursing got as creative as our friend, Lenora, when she drove.
“But forget all that. What’s important here is you recognize Daire’s no good for you, babe. You deserve so much better.” Lucy’s voice softened and I sobered quickly.
She was right. I knew it. She knew it. Hell, everybody in town knew it. And yet, I just kept denying it. Kept trying to make it work. Kept bending my principles to give him another chance. I couldn’t tell you the number of times I’d turned down invites from my girls because I figured Daire would want to hang out instead.
I was sick of it. Sick of myself. Definitely sick of him.
I sighed, looking longingly at the vodka bottle. “I know.” I took a big inhale and stood up tall, decision made quickly before I could chicken out. “Okay. I’ll break up with him today. Pinkie promise.”
“Girl, you know the gravity of a pinkie promise, right?” Lucy sounded cautiously hopeful and it made me sad she didn’t trust me to break up with Daire. I’d given her no reason to think I had the fortitude to actually do it.
“If I don’t break up with him today, you can tar and feather me in front of the statue in the roundabout. How about that for gravity, bitch?” I smirked with a display of confidence, even though my stomach lurched at what I’d have to do today.
Lucy squealed and I heard Roxy in the background join her, happy that mama was happy. “Yes! Finally. Okay, sorry. I shouldn’t be jumping for joy, but I’m just so glad you’ve come to your senses. I miss Amelia.”
I swallowed hard. “I know. Me too.”
We hung up a little while later and I put the stupid, defective vodka bottle down to take a shower. The Day of the Breakup would start by literally washing that man right out of my hair. Then I’d put on makeup, get dressed, and text him. Lucy was right. He deserved a text breakup. If I could have sent smoke signals instead, I would have, just to make it even less personal.
The longer it took me to get ready, the angrier I got. I meant it when I told Lucy I missed myself. I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. I used to be happy, crackling with energy and pumping out the attitude that I could take on the world. But lately, all I did was hang on Daire’s every word, jump on his bike when he said jump, and worry about what he’d think of my new dress, or how I did my hair, or what I said the other day. When had I morphed into this pathetic girl who lived her life according to a man?
The man was hot, but no man was hot enough to warrant losing myself.
He wasn’t worth my obsession. He was an asshole with a capital A and last night was the last straw. We’d been having a good time at that bar when I went to the bathroom. A guy approached me when I came out, flirted, and I turned him down. The whole exchange took less than thirty seconds. But Daire saw us and got in one of his moods, accusing me of flirting with the guy first. A little later, he ditched me to get another drink at the bar, but the next thing I knew, he was leading some woman out to the patio, his hand around her waist. Oh, I knew what he was doing. He was paying me back. Trying to make me as jealous as he was. We’d done this song and dance before. I fucking hated this song and dance.
So I sat there and waited for him to come back. And waited. When he didn’t come back inside for fifteen minutes, I got my phone out to call someone to pick me up. Thing was, I couldn’t call any of my girlfriends as they all had jobs and lives and husbands. It was after midnight and I highly doubted I’d find a ride share driver out here in the middle of nowhere. I pulled up Titus’s contact information and paused, knowing that calling him was wrong of me. I’d basically ditched Titus, my best friend, when Daire and I started dating. And here I was calling him to rescue me in the middle of the night. I hit call anyway, desperate enough I’d face the music with the one guy who’d never let me down, even after I let him down repeatedly.
Once I was dressed, I shoved the vodka bottle back in the fridge and pulled out a White Claw. I never drank these around Daire as he said they were “pussy drinks,” but damn, I really loved them.
“So, fuck you and your non-pussy drinks.” I raised my can in the air to an imaginary Daire and slugged it back.
I flopped down in the recliner chair and pulled up a new text message to Daire. Took me fifteen minutes of writing, erasing, and rewriting to get the message the way I wanted it. Direct and to the point was best. No emojis to soften the blow no matter how badly I wanted to use the middle finger emoji. The whole thing would have gone faster if my palm hadn’t been so sweaty. I dropped the damn phone in my lap five times before I was done.
Amelia: Hey, I’ve been thinking. We need to break up. I’m no good for you and vice versa. It’s been fun, but it’s time to move on. Have a good life.
My heart was beating like I’d gone for a run. I snorted in the silent room. I was surprised I even remembered what going for a run felt like. I think my last run could have been the last day of physical education my senior year of high school. I took another swig of my drink and gave myself a mental pep talk. The pep talk looked a lot like the Shia LaBeouf Just Do It video I’d watched about a hundred times.
“I’m making my dreams come true, Shia!” I shouted and hit send in a mad rush of angry motivational energy.
I dropped the phone like it was a snake and jumped to my feet, staring at it. I did it. I finally fucking did it. The elation of breaking free made me feel like I stuck my hand in an electric socket. I shook my booty, imaginary celebratory song in my head, spilling my drink on the beige carpet. I’d clean that up later. Now? It was party time.
There was a knock on the door.
My head swung up and the sudden movement made me dizzy. There wasn’t any more light coming in through the window, so it must be nighttime. Odd time for housekeeping to be coming by. Maybe my music was too loud and the front desk had gotten a complaint?
“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered, turning the little speaker off and swiping my hair away from my sticky face.
Some people meditated or got some exercise or talked with trusted friends when they were emotionally overwhelmed. I danced and drank. Alone. In my room. By myself. Shut the fuck up. Totally normal and healthy, so take your sniffy advice elsewhere, Judgy Judy.
I wobbled over to the door, needing a hand on the wall to stay upright. How many of those cans had I drunk today? Not so many I didn’t remember safety. I looked through the peephole first, jumping back with a startled gasp when I saw a man at the door.
Titus.
I swung the door open and nearly went down with the violent movement. As it was, I had to push off the wall to get back to upright. Titus frowned. I frowned back.
“What?” I barked by way of greeting.
He looked up and down the hall before zeroing in on my face. “Can I come in?”
I backed up and he came in, his cologne following him like a cloud. I followed my nose and nearly hit the backside of him. He’d stopped, his hands going to his hips as he surveyed my room.
“What?” I asked again, telling myself to quit sniffing him.