FOUR
Some random season of NCIS: Los Angeles played on the TV as I folded my clothes, tucking everything perfectly into the drawers. From the big box dominating the room, I pulled out a few pairs of favorite heels. I lined them up under the dresses and coats that barely squeezed in to wardrobe. I did enjoy how they added a splash of color to the otherwise bland closet. I wasn’t sure where the hours had gone, but eventually, exhaustion won. The day was over. Night arrived. I crawled into the oversized white bed, pulling the crisp, cool sheets up to my neck.
Just as my eyes were about to close, my phone rang.
"Hello," I answered.
“Would you rather be a centaur or a mermaid?”
Lena’s voice chirped on the other end. Nearly twenty years of friends and her “Would You Rather” questions still found ways to surprise me.
“Centaur, obviously. I love horses, and I’m way too lazy to be a mermaid swimming all day,”
I replied, feigning indecision.
"Same!”
she laughed. “Living in the woods, not a care in the world. Plus, I’m shocked you even answered since it’s after 8:30 p.m.”
"Mock me all you want! I need seven hours minimum to function. Some of us just know our bodies better,”
I teased back. “Unlike you, surviving on four hours. You’re a beast, a monster.”
She laughed at my mockery, but confidently confirmed, "Some of us are just built different.”
We both fell silent, comfortable in the quiet connection that only years of friendship could build. Finally, I spoke up. "So, what do I do about this vacation? I’ve been planning every detail for months, and now...”
“Charlie, this was ALWAYS your trip!”
She interjected. “Look over the itinerary, add in anything you left out because of Michael, cut in everything you added for him and leave room for all the casual hookups.” Her laugh was contagious.
Giggling, I admitted, “Don’t get your hopes up. Rumor has it I kind of suck at dating. But, okay—new plan. Tomorrow’s mission: revamp the travel plans. I’ll go visit the fam while I’m in Paris for a few days. Drink all my uncle’s wine.”
“I’m so jealous. I wish we planned this trip for us,”
she said honestly.
“Same! Let’s get something like that on the calendar for next year. Think about all the places you want to go and we can start figuring it out. I love this for us,”
I was already visualizes some amazing options.
After we ended our nightly chat, I felt a strange surge of excitement, like the sadness of this breakup fleeting. I know nobody heals in twenty-four hours, but I knew I wasn’t going to wallow in some form of sadness and self-loathing. Somehow it felt like the right direction for me, but nothing stung more than a breakup and the admission of someone else. I don’t care who you are—that part hurts. Nobody wants to feel like they weren’t enough.
Time for a life refresh! In a little over two months, I would be spending all of June in Europe—at some of my favorite places, hitting bucket list spots and doing whatever I wanted along the way. This meant Parisian pastries, sun-drenched beaches, fresh seafood and so many of my favorite things.. This trip was for reconnecting with myself. Figuring out my next chapter. Creating and planning new goals. Before I knew it, sleep came me.
The next morning, I woke up and just listened to the noises of the city. Somehow that chaos was soothing, probably because it never changed. It was consistent. Reliable. All the subtle hustle was the center of life here. There was always an ambiance of background noise here—any time of the day and each day of the week. It was relaxing to embrace this moment of solitude, be present as my room embraced the signs of a new day.
My normal response was I wanted to fix all the holes in my boat. I am a problem solver. Strategist. Achiever. Taking things as they come is a difficult process for me. Living a perfectly curated life, or so I thought, wasn’t working. I was only going to focus on today. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not next year—just today. I was here. In this beautiful room with giant windows high enough to enjoy the city without the city enjoy me. This was a great hotel. I loved this hotel. Close to all of my favorite things—work, Lena, amazing restaurants and I could walk to all of them. Figuring out where to live and touring apartments required too much brain power right now. Staying in the hotel would work until I was ready.
My only focus for today was deleting Michael from all the travel arrangements. Thankfully, traveling was my expertise, my business and my passion. It wouldn’t be too difficult to switch some hotels and add whatever I decided to the itinerary. I just needed to get his name off everything. I needed reinforcements because he made some of the bookings through his office, so he could write off the expenses. I knew exactly who would love to help me for a small fee of all the details. Ryan Bennett, the office manager at the Astor Realty Group, or Michael’s family business. He was excellent at his job—I offered him a position several times, but he never takes me seriously. I need to dive into that one. I’ll add it to my list of things to do after my vacation. Not only is he the most organized and efficient man I know, but he also loathes both Michael and his brother, James. He referred to them as spoiled ass twats on the good days. I loved Ryan. Time to call in a favor.
Me: Hi, love. Long story short, Michael and I broke up.
Me: Can you pretty please help me with the trip stuff?
Me: Obi-Wan, you’re my only hope.
Ryan: WTF!! So uncivilized!
Ryan: I want all the TEA over drinks!
Ryan: Monday @ 11:15. Everyone will be at a meeting.
Me: Perfect!
Me: You’re my favorite.
Ryan: I know! I’m everyone’s favorite.
Ryan: No being sad. M is toxic dirty douche.
After I stood in line at Starbucks for longer than I will admit, I got my usual—grande quad shot Americano with two pumps of white chocolate mocha. Today required an obscene amount of caffeine.
By the time I reached Lena’s studio, half my coffee was gone. The place was bustling, even on a Sunday.The was her zone. She taught drawing, painting and sculpture to mixed-age groups, fostering this magical mix of creative chaos. Just watching her in her element made me smile. It was such a fun experience being part of the Lena Show.
The studio was a kaleidoscope of color and texture, art of all varieties lining the walls in various stages of completion. Sculptures and mixed media pieces claimed their own little corners. The earthy scent of paint and clay filled the air, producing a sort of grounding flow. Lena, with her messy bun and stray curls, was absorbed in her work. Removed from reality. Lost in her own part of the universe. She managed to make every crazy part of her life look easy and put together. It was a natural skill that must originate from being an artist. My schedule includes a time block for almost everything. I have organized my way into making it look easy and curated, but sometimes what’s going on in my mind resembles a war zone or…white noise. Lena just keeps painting like nothing else is going on in the world. I envy how she tunes the rest out like it’s just the way to do things.
“Oh, my sweet Lena Rae Valentine,”
I belt out, drawing out each word. “Promise me you’ll always be mine! I can’t help if my love feels like a porcupine!”
Lena turned, throwing her paintbrush my way as I settled into that third line, drawing a few stares from other artists. It missed me—thankfully, it was covered in red paint. My eyes followed the paintbrush as it hit the floor and slid across a few feet.
She broke into a grin. “Charlie! How does someone as beautiful as you have a voice that bad?”
“I missed you, too! You say the sweetest things,”
I said, noticing a few of her fellow artists nodding politely as I passed.
“Where’s my coffee,”
she asked, holding out her hand.
I handed her my cup and leaned closer to peer at her canvas, trying to decipher the abstract strokes. “It’s beautiful,”
I said sincerely. Lena never sought compliments, but she appreciated them when they were honest.
“Thanks,”
she said, eyes on her canvas as if seeing it through my perspective. “It’s…well, I’m not sure what it is yet.”
She turned to face me fully, giving me her signature once-over. “So, how are you doing? Don’t give me any bullshit generic answer. I want the real feels?”
I shrugged. “Adjusting—working through all the feelings. Shockingly, it doesn’t feel great to get dumped and find out about cheating in the same conversation. Yet-here we are!”
“It’s going to take time, Charlie,”
she said, handing me a pastry bag. “I picked up pastries from La Bergamote on the way.”
“You treat me so well,”
I peeked inside to see all my favorites—croissants and tarts arranged perfectly. My mouth watered as I took out a croissant, savoring its buttery flakiness. Good food had a way of always making everything feel right.
Lena never missed the chance for an awkward pivot in our conversations. Today proved to be no different.
She asked, “Would you rather never eat another pastry or never have another orgasm?”
Lena’s face was pure mischief.
“Why do you do this to me?”
I whined. “They both provide different types of pleasure. Dopamine. Happiness that I need…to live. That’s an impossible choice!”
She laughed. “Fine, fair enough. No one wants to live in a world without both. I know I don’t.”
I popped the rest of the croissant in my mouth, grateful to have a friend who made the hard things in life a little lighter. “You know, even with the list and plans, it’s strange stepping back into this single space. I have to figure out adult things all over again. Do I rent? Buy? Where do I live?”
“Charlie, everything you’re feeling is valid. The end of a relationship, even if he wasn’t right, shakes everything up. But it also means you get to decide what’s next. You can change your mind a thousand times. There’s no wrong answers. Anything you decide is right.”
“I know,”
I said, taking in her words. “Michael and I started out fun, but somewhere along the way, we got…stuck. Losing dad. I don’t think our lives every really went together, on paper maybe, but not really. I was just a girlfriend in his and he was a bandaid in mine.”
Lena gave a small nod. “You found stability in each other. That makes sense. People come into our lives for a reason. It doesn’t mean they are meant to stay. Sometimes is just a moment or a season. Michael was a season. His season has ended. That’s okay. We think we have to hang on to all of our relationships, even when they stop serving us. I wish we learned earlier that it’s okay to breakup with friends, lovers and even family. Be thankful for what the relationship was and carry on. You need someone passionate and driven like you. Charlie, you’re forever material, but they need to be super—not fucking superficial.”
The truth of her words settled into me, and for the first time, I let myself feel grateful for this new beginning. What she said made sense—for a wild child turned artist she was next level intuitive about people.
She didn’t spend a moment on anyone who wasn’t going to love back at her level. She loved huge. No competition. She showed up in every single way. She did it without effort. That was Lena.