Page 10 of Missile Tow
“All right, ladies,” I interrupted, coming around the counter, grabbing Sadie’s elbow, and moving her toward the exit. “I’m sure we’ll all have a grand time at dinner.”
Sadie rolled her eyes one last time and made her way to the door. She stopped and turned around before leaving. “James is a fine young man, Chip. He swears he’s had starry eyes for you his entire life. I feel good about this love connection, son.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hatfield,” I replied. “You never know.”
Perhaps this Christmascouldheal my heart. For the first time in a year, I imagined the holiday as something to look forward to again.
CHAPTER SIX: Van
Before I even made it out of Seattle’s city limits, my cell phone erupted like Mt. St. Helens did back in 1980. One. Then two. Then three more beeps. Then, a constant barrage of text alerts piled up while I negotiated traffic. My phone was attached to one of those gadgets stuck to my dash, but I hesitated grabbing it with traffic being so gnarly on a Friday afternoon.
“Geesh,” I muttered after catching a glance at the texter. “Calm down, Mr. Perfect.”
The moment I saw Evan’s name as the sender, I surmised why he was acting unhinged via text message. I assumed I’d hit a nerve that morning in the garage, and now he was going to set me straight. He didn’t have the balls for direct confrontation with a call, so he’d decided to give me a dressing down courtesy of type-written words. I expected many to be all-caps.
As usual, he was going to point out how I was somehow responsible for the garage encounter. I knew he’d try to make me the villain. After years of being corrected, advised, as well as criticized, I was amazed that I accepted his behavior. Frankly, Evan simply wasn’t a kind person.
I think my need to be part of a team, part of something bigger than just me, led me to place myself in a supporting role inside the relationship. Now that I’d spent the past year healing and observing him go on with his life with someone new, I began realizing I wasn’t as important to him as I thought.
A year’s worth of nights were spent wondering what he and the new guy were doing. Were they happy? Were they having great sex? Did the new guy have better qualities than I did? Had Evan completely forgotten the love we’d shared? I knew these feelings were normal for a person who’d been left by another, but how can you feel whole or lovable when your partner chooses another while you’re still together? My heart and confidence had been shattered.
Slowly, as the days and weeks passed, I recognized my sad feelings were being replaced with hopeful thoughts. My brain once again connected with my heart. My heart had been broken, so naturally, common sense went out the window while I grieved.
For months, no matter what constructive messages my brain conveyed about my loss, my heart wasn’t listening. Falsely, I felt better being miserable and commiserating about my love injury. The extreme hurt seemed to validate the relationship’s importance to me.
Surviving the big test of actually meeting Evan’s new partner made me feel stronger and more determined that I could move forward. As it turned out, John was a nice person. He was respectful to me despite what had transpired. He wasn’t the boogeyman I had conjured up in my mind. I could be wrong, but I sensed he was a better candidate than I to pick up on Evan’s narcissism.
Glancing at my vehicle’s gas gauge, I took an exit for gas just ten miles east of Seattle in a small community named Issaquah. Issaquah used to be a quaint town with a cute Main Street lined with hundred-year-old buildings and an old-world charm. A 1950s XXX drive-in burger joint on the edge of town lent the community an authentic throwback vibe.
The city’s battle to stay rural had failed with the growth of Microsoft in neighboring Redmond, Washington. The techboom spilled over and onto the hillsides that surround Issaquah, making the town’s impressive real estate market even less affordable for most people.
I zipped into a Chevron station and found an open lane to fuel up. After putting the nozzle in the opening, I stepped to the back of the X5 and began reading Evan’s messages. All capitalized letters was my first clue he wouldn’t be slathering me with praise concerning my meet and greet with his new beau.
Evan: HOW DARE YOU INTIMATE THAT I WASN’T FAITHFUL!!!
Three exclamation points.Usually when angered, he only resorted to one.
Evan: AND DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF JOHN! THAT IS RICH!
Back to one exclamation point.He was incorrect. I did not intimate he was unfaithful in so many words. However, I did say that I’d been faithful, so I suppose one could deduce I meant he hadn’t been.
Evan: THANKS TO YOUR WISECRACK, JOHN THINKS I CHEATED ON YOU BEHIND YOUR BACK.
You did, didn’t you?
I heard the distinct click that the gas tank was full and pocketed my phone while completing the fill-up. There was a truck behind me waiting for my spot, so I pulled out and parked alongside the station to continue reading the numerous texts.
Evan: NOW HE’S QUESTIONING MY INTEGRITY AND THREATENING TO GO BACK TO THAT FUCKING MISSILE TOWN PLACE.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Yes, my eyes had widened at his news. My intention wasn’t to cause him problems. In fact, I liked John and envied Evan’s choice. John seemed kind and pleasant enough. Throw in a tad bit of jealousy on my part athow handsome John was, and I had to admit I might have left me, too.
I read the following nine or so additionalall-capstexts before taking a moment to absorb what Evan was saying. There was trouble in paradise for sure. What I gathered was that John didn’t like that Evan had lied to him about how I found out about them.
John most likely mentioned to Evan that he liked me and felt guilty about his actions. He’d said the same to me in the garage. I appreciated when he confessed he’d also done a bad thing to his ex. His candor revealed a quality I admired in people. I’m convinced Evan hated the disclosure.
Other points Evan tried making were that I’d shattered the trust he was building with his new relationship. According to Evan, I’d single-handedly painted him in a bad light by speaking with John. Ironic, considering it was he who brought John over to me while I loaded luggage for my trip. Apparently, John now questioned the type of man Evan was and whether he’d made a mistake jumping into something so blindly.
Setting the phone back into the holder, I stared through the windshield at a concrete wall in front of me. A graffiti vandal had spray-painted the phrase ‘Love is an illusion’ in bold red paint on the retaining wall’s surface. A red heart under the words had a tear dripping from the bottom.
