Page 2 of The Beat of My Heart
Stopping by Golden City on my way home, I order a giant to-go bag of General Tso’s chicken, pork fried rice, scallion pancakes, wonton soup, and egg rolls. It’s more food than I can eat in a week, but I figure I will need it to get through tonight. I already had my wine delivered a few days ago, so now I officially have every break-up-cleanout item necessary.Except for your friends, you twit.My conscience often sounds a lot like Lanie’s grandmother, GG. It's annoying as fuck.
The second my front door closes behind me, I unhook my bra and pull it off through the sleeves the way us girls do and toss it on the couch. I head straight for the kitchen but have to pass the mantel on the way, and what I see stops me in my tracks.
The framed picture of Erick and me from graduation stares at me mockingly. “Goddamn it,” I say, swiping at a stray tear angrily. Hefting the bag of food to my hip, I grab the picture and storm off to the kitchen for a garbage bag.
Placing the food on the counter, I reach under the sink and pull out a giant green contractor bag, then chuck the picture—frame and all—into the bag with such force, I hear it crack when it hits the ground. I quickly realize the sound is cathartic, and I’m ready to do it again.
“Alright, Jules. Let’s do this.” Pushing up my sleeves, I strip out of my skirt too. It’s my house, and if I’m going to rid my home of my ex, I’m going to do it in comfort. Running to my room, I toss my tank top aside and grab my extra-large Red Sox t-shirt. I pull it over my head and sigh. What is better than giant cozy t-shirts? It’s so big, it comes down to my knees, which is probably more acceptable should someone stop by.
Rubbing my hands together, I take the garbage bag with me and start at the front of the house. I am going through every nook and cranny of this place until I’ve destroyed every last memory of Erick.Just like he did to your life. “Oh, for fuck's sake, shut up, GG.”
Once I finish in the entryway, I’m a little sweaty. Who knew emotional stress could affect your body so much? Dragging my hair into a ponytail, I walk to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. I glance at the wine glasses and say, “Screw it. Who needs the added clean up? Not this girl!”
“Glad we are on the same page then,” Lanie says, scaring the living shit out of me.
“What the hell, Lanes?”
Grabbing her own bottle of wine, she uncorks it and clinks her bottle with mine. “Cheers,” she says.
“W-what are you doing here?” I ask, embarrassed for being caught in a lie.
“Jules, how long have we known each other? I know the second you’re even thinking about lying to me, so as your best friend, I’m here. You don’t have to tell me anything, but by the looks of the bag I just stepped over, we’re cleaning Erick out of your life tonight, right?” she asks, taking a very unladylike gulp from her bottle.
“Yeah, we’re done,” I say without looking at her.
“Okay then. Let's get started.” She doesn’t question me, just gets her own bag from under the sink. Standing upright, I watch as she unhooks her own bra, slides it out from her armhole, and tosses it onto the kitchen chair. “Sisterhood and all,” she says with a wink.
Raising my wine bottle, I say, “To sisterhood. Lanes?”
“Yes, my darling?” she sing-songs.
“Thank you.”
Kissing me on the head because she is literally an entire foot taller than me, she says, “Anytime, Chica. Let’s do this. Can we break things?”
With a grin, I tell her, “I’m hoping so.”
For the next three hours, we rid my home of all things Erick. I know when Lanie goes home, I’ll cry. Mourn the loss of what I thought we had. Then I’ll pick up the pieces and move on. I will not allow men in my life for a very long time. Who needs the heartache when I’ve got great friends and a vibrator?
Part I
The First Verse
Chapter 1
-Bibia Be Ye Ye, Ed Sheeran
Julia
“Icannot believe I let Lanie talk me into this. I mean, seriously. What the hell is she thinking?” Walking across my bedroom floor in the highest heels I own, I turn to look in the full-length mirror. “Okay, fine. She has a point, my ass looks freaking fantastic.”
“I told you it would,” Lanie says from the doorway with a smirk.
Practically jumping out of my skin, I spin to face the door, catch my heel in a groove of the old hardwood floors of my one-hundred-year-old farmhouse, and face plant right at Lanie’s feet.
Lifting only my head, I scowl, “What the actual fuck, Lanes? You couldn’t knock at the front door like a normal person?”
Laughing, she replies, “Jules, when have I ever knocked? Plus, you don’t even have locks on your doors. It’s like a town law or something.” She leans down to help haul me up.
