Page 124 of Better Than Gelato
“But why did you actually break up? Was he seeing someone else?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why break up?” Maggie asks. “What did he say?”
I try to recall his exact words, but it’s hazy.
“He said it was too hard. That it would be different if I was there, but I chose not to move there.”
“And he chose not to move here,” she points out loyally.
“Anyway, that was after he admitted that he didn’t love me anymore, which is a pretty good reason to break up.”
“That must have been hard to hear,” Maggie says.
“It didn’t feel great.” The anger drains out of me and the tears are back, and I don’t even try to fight them. I just let them take over while Maggie holds me and makes soothing sounds.
At some point, Petey comes in and tells me she’s made a nice hot bath for me, and doesn’t that sound nice? She speaks to me like I’m an old lady, or a child, or mentally unstable. I suppose the last one isn’t far off. And a hot bath does sound good.
I slip my grungy clothes off and slide into the water. I can hear them talking through the door.
“I’ve never seen her like this,” Petey says.
“She’s never been like this,” Maggie says.
“Did you see her get into the bath?” Petey says. “She’s skin and bones.”
“Yeah, because she stopped eating,” Maggie says. “And youknowhow she feels about eating.”
“What do we do?” Petey asks.
“I can hear you, ya hooligans,” I yell through the door.
There’s a startled yelp and then Maggie’s voice. “We’re not talking about you,” she says. “We’re talking about someone else. Lynn. Just went through a breakup, the poor girl. She’s not handling it well. Not like you. You’re doing way better than Lynn.”
This actually makes me smile. Pirate is right. I have good people who love me.
I stay in the bath a long time. When I dry off and get dressed, I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I’m not ready to deal with whatever weird thing my body is doing.
When I come out, the girls are eating sandwiches in the kitchen.
“I made you one,” Pirate says.
“Thanks, apparently I’m just skin and bones.”
“I’m so sorry,” Petey says. “I should not have said that.”
“You weren’t even talking about her,” Maggie says. “You were talking about Lynn.” She gives Petey a theatrical elbow nudge and earns another smile from me.
We watch a movie that afternoon. I couldn’t say which one.
I try to make pasta in the evening. But as soon as the smell of warm olive oil fills the kitchen, I’m reminded of the beach we found by the olive grove in Greece. Where we kissed for hours and told each other “I love you.”
I give up cooking, and Petey makes frozen burritos and sprinkles cheddar cheese on them to make them “fancy.”
The next morning I wake up sad again. Each morning is an opportunity to remember all over again that this special thing I had is now lost. I gingerly climb out of bed. I feel like an old woman. Or how I assume an old woman feels. My limbs are creaky and my muscles ache. I don’t know why my body feels like it’s run a marathon when I’ve barely gotten out of bed in the last seventy-two hours.Heartbreak is exhausting.
I go into the kitchen where Petey is making pancakes and chatting with Maggie and Pirate. Conversation stops when they see me. Maggie starts cheering.
