Page 128 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“Okay.”
“Will you give it to him?”
I flick a glance at her earnest face in the mirror, then I look away. “Sure.”
I drop her off at school and head to work. After the events of yesterday, it took every ounce of willpower to drag myself out of bed this morning when all I longed to do was pull the covers over my head and find forgetfulness in sleep. But that’s what I did after Oliver left and I’m determined not to turn into that shell ofa person again. Lisset deserves more,Ideserve more. I survived heartbreak once and I’ll survive it again.
Tess urged me to take today off, but I don’t want to be known as the food stylist who schedules shoots and then cancels at the last minute. Word travels fast in this industry and I can’t afford to develop a bad reputation.
The minute I walk into the studio for the pizza shoot, Joel seems to sense something is wrong. He tries to delicately probe, but I shake my head. I can’t talk about Gideon. Not to him. He doesn’t push me. Instead, he gives my shoulder a gentle, I’m-here-for-you squeeze, which makes my throat tighten, and then he goes straight into discussing details of the shoot. Work is the best distraction and for the next couple of hours I lose myself in creating the perfect cheese pull for Joel to photograph.
Tess messages me, wanting to know how I’m doing, and I shoot her off a text reassuring her I’m coping. She and Aaron stayed with me the whole of yesterday. Aaron wouldn’t say what happened with Gideon. He was favoring his right hand when he returned and appeared preoccupied, but he told me not to worry. I’ll find out eventually what transpired between the two of them, but at the moment I’m focused on simply getting through the next couple of days. I’m raw and fragile and I’m protecting myself.
My mom dropped Lisset off later that evening, along with an armload of meals that’ll see me through the rest of the week. I know she cooked as much for her sake as mine. It’s how she handles stress, all that chopping, stirring, mixing, and beating helping her to self-soothe.
When I pick Lisset up from school after the pizza shoot, I’m hoping she’s forgotten about the card for Gideon, but as soon as we arrive home, she hurries up to her room to make a card for him.
When she’s finished, she hands it to me. “Please put it in his mailbox.”
“Okay.” The lies I’m telling my daughter. I tell myself it’s not at all the same as the lies Gideon told me.
“You can read it if you want, Mom.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say, although I know I won’t read it, that it will gut me to read her innocent words to him.
I wait until she’s out of sight before I tear the card up and bury it at the bottom of the recycling bag.
And then I retreat to my bedroom to weep, because Gideon’s not only broken my heart, he’ll shatter my daughter’s too when she finds out he’s no longer a part of our life.
The doorbell rings half an hour after Lisset’s gone to bed. My pulse starts racing. He wouldn’t dare. I’m half gearing up for a fight as I check the peephole, but it’s my grandmother standing impatiently on my front porch.
“Open the door, Katherine Anne. I’m freezing out here.”
I open the door with a mix of relief and exasperation. My family, it seems, are determined to smother me with their love and concern. I’m not altogether resentful and I know better than to argue with them.
Grandma steps into the entryway. “Just warning you, your mother’s planning on coming over tomorrow to see you. She wanted to come tonight, but we played Rock, Paper, Scissors and I won, so I get to see you first.” Grandma leans toward me and says conspiratorially, “I asked Google for tips on beating your opponent at Rock, Paper, Scissors and it gave me some good strategies. You should have seen the shock on your mom’s face.”
I’m startled at the laugh that bubbles out of me. I thought it would be a long time before I laughed again.
Grandma nods, satisfied. “Let’s have some tea, shall we?”
We busy ourselves making the tea, chamomile for me, since I’m avoiding caffeine that will spike my already jangled nerves. While Grandma heads to the living room, I quickly check on Lisset. She’s fast asleep.
“Tess filled me in,” Grandma says as soon as I sit down. “No need for you to dredge up all the disturbing details.” Her face creases into a concerned expression. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. No, I’m not okay. But I’m afraid to let go, I’m afraid of who will be swept away in the ensuing tidal wave of grief. I can’t do that to my frail grandmother.
When she levels me a look, however, I realize I’ve underestimated her. Hidden in that delicate body is a spine of steel that’s seen her through three miscarriages, the loss of her siblings, and the death of her husband. She’s made of stern stuff, my grandmother, and this is what she offers me now. A safe sanctuary to let go.
“Don’t hold back on my account,” she tells me firmly. “I’ve been through some things, and I can handle your pain.”
I’ve spent the better part of today trying not to cry, but sometimes the fighting feels harder than the letting go.
“It’s okay, sweet girl,” Grandma says softly. “Just let it out.”
And I do. I cry and cry and cry.
I cry for the hope I had of a healthy, loving relationship. I cry for all the times Gideon held me and comforted me and told me how much he loved me. I cry for Lisset and the devastation she’ll feel at Gideon’s absence. I cry for the torment playing out on Gideon’s face when he confessed to knowing Oliver. It wasn’t the look of a man taking pleasure in some sadistic game; instead, he looked wretched and guilty and broken. I can acknowledge that much, but I can’t get past his lies.
