3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Later that morning: Lucy
L ucy had been unable to sleep since Brodan left. She stayed in bed for a while, staring at the side table clock, watching the minutes flip by along with a montage of her life over the past four years. What a waste. After the passing of another hour, she said, “Fuck it,” and abandoned the futile pursuit in favor of packing while the rest of the city lay quiet. She showered and started collecting her things in a pile on the bed to take stock of how many boxes she would need. Two short hours later, everything Lucy owned sat atop the duvet, folded and organized into a few neat stacks.
“Huh.” Lucy puffed out a breath and glanced around the room, mumbling to herself, “That can’t be all of it.” She looked up where to find the nearest twenty-four-hour grocery store. Maybe a clerk or stocker would take pity on her so she could weasel a few boxes before they broke them down for recycling.
By six a.m., with a cup of coffee perched haphazardly on top of the large stack of boxes, Lucy lumbered back to the apartment. She set the wobbling game of cardboard Jenga next to the entryway and fished her keys from her purse. As the tower toppled, she snatched the twenty-ounce red eye from the top, saving the blessed caffeine from splattering across the recently recarpeted hallway. With a sigh of relief, she tested a sip. Ouch. Still too hot.
She propped open the door with one of Brodan’s large boots and unceremoniously heaved and kicked the boxes through the threshold. The corner of one clipped a picture frame sitting on the entryway table, knocking it to the floor. She knelt to pick up the photo. It was a panned-out shot of her and Brodan’s first date. Above their heads, the iconic Pike Place Market sign glowed a jarring shade of red against the darkening sky. Four-years-ago-Lucy stood on tip-toes, planting a kiss on a grinning Brodan’s cheek while he wrapped an arm around her waist. She traced the cracked glass with her finger, wincing when a sharp edge drew blood. A burst of anger filled her chest and she flung the frame across the room. It shattered against the brick accent wall, shards flying in all directions.
“Shit.” Despite being dumped on her birthday and told to move out immediately, Lucy wasn’t keen on trashing the place. As she swept up the mess, her mother’s voice played in her head like a recording: Look on the bright side, peanut.
And what would that be, Mom?
No response.
That’s what I thought.
Grabbing a box and her finally-cool-enough-to-drink coffee, Lucy went back into the bedroom to resume packing. When she eyed the stacks again, they seemed even smaller than before. Lucy turned to do another lap through the cabinets and drawers, but paused when her phone buzzed on the side table.
Brodan?
Her heart fluttered. With hope? No, it felt more like acid reflux.
Lucy hesitated a moment, considered leaving the phone right where it was, but changed her mind and picked it up. She let out a relieved sigh and smiled weakly.
Todd:
Thinking of you, beautiful! Thank you so much for coming out and supporting this broke queen! Love, love, love you!
Lucy:
You were fabulous as usual!
I can’t believe you’re up already, though! I’m impressed...
Todd:
Oh, honey! I haven’t even MADE it to bed yet! LOL. Just headed home in the cab now.
Why are you up at this ungodly hour?
Lucy:
Couldn’t sleep. Brodan and I broke up.
Three dots popped up on her screen then disappeared. Lucy waited for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip, then put her phone down to get back to work.
Thirty minutes and two more sweeps later, the only things Lucy found to add to her pile were an old quilt in the back of the linen closet and a shoebox full of novelty magnets from every national park she had ever visited. The realization that all her belongings boiled down to a few measly boxes was jarring. She hadn’t expected to make such a small footprint in her own apartment. His apartment . Had she really never demanded more than this?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Lucy hurried over to the entryway, peeked through the peephole and threw open the door. “Do my eyes deceive me, or has the infamous Dirty O’Feelya shown up on my doorstep?”
Todd stood on the welcome mat, eight-inch heels and duffel bag in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “Dirty O’Feelya called it a night the second she got your text.” He sauntered by, planting a light kiss on his friend’s forehead. “How are you doin’, sweet pea?” he asked, barely able to contain his grin.
Lucy shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m surprised you’re here.”
Todd tossed his heels aside and sauntered into the kitchen. “I couldn’t very well go home when there’s something so big worth celebrating.”
“Celebrating, huh? I happen to be packing. Are you here to help?” Lucy followed him into the kitchen.
Pop.
The bursting sound echoed in the modernly sparse apartment.
“Where are your glasses? Never mind.” He held out the bottle to Lucy, who eyed it with hesitation.
“Isn’t it a little too early to start drinking?”
“First of all, I haven’t stopped, so I’m not technically starting anything. But if it eases your mind, it’s half of a mimosa, which is a breakfast drink.” Todd said as he wiggled the open bottle in Lucy’s direction.
“Fine, fine.” Accepting it, she took a long gulp. Hopefully, the alcohol would take some of the edge off her crummy mood.
“That’s my girl.”
“You really didn’t have to come.” Lucy walked into the living room, bottle still in hand.
Todd followed, making his way to the couch. “Yes, I did, sweetie. While I’m clearly doing a stellar job containing my joy right now, I know you’re probably hurting. ”
“Yeah, stellar job . . .” Lucy rolled her eyes, taking another gulp.
“So, I came over to give moral support and to help you see the bright side of a shitty situation.” Todd reached out for the bottle of bubbly then plopped down on the black leather couch, duffel at his side. Displeasure contorted his painted face as he attempted to settle into the stiff, uncomfortable couch. After considerable effort, he gave up. “Look. Breakups are never easy, but this relationship ran its course. For far too long, if you ask me. You’ll see once you get a little distance.”
“You’re probably right—”
“Girl, I am always right,” Todd stated, removing the semi-collapsed wig from his head. With the reverence given to a loved (and probably expensive) possession, he carefully laid the wig out on the coffee table. He pinched the corner of the tape banded around his wig cap and peeled the covering off in one continuous strip then sighed with relief as he scratched his scalp with the nine remaining press-on nails. He settled back against the couch clutching the bottle of bubbly. Even in partial drag, Todd was quite the opposition to the gray-on-gray tones of the apartment. His neon colors screamed joy and life, reminding Lucy that outside of the bleak situation awaited a vibrant world of possibilities. The realization should have given her hope. Unfortunately, along with the effervescence of the champagne, it just added to her agitation. The double shots of espresso in her black coffee probably hadn’t helped either. Instead of reassurance, she felt resentment. She’d wasted years of her life with no one to blame but herself.
“But right now, I’m just pissed.” Lucy snatched the champagne, ignoring her friend’s small grunt of protest. She wiped a drop from her lips with the back of her hand and continued, “I couldn’t sleep, so I started packing. No sense putting it off since Brodan gave me until the evening to be out of here.”
“That yuppie bastard—”
“But that’s not the worst part. I won’t even need that much time. I’ve barely taken up any space in this Patrick Bateman wet dream of an apartment. Everything here that’s mine fits in four boxes.” Anger rose and laced her words. “Will I need to rent a moving truck? No ! Know why not?”
“I hardly think anyone wants to rent a moving truck—”
“Because I haven’t even amassed enough shit in four years to fill half of my fucking Kia!” Lucy paced across the living room. “How pathetic is that? Four years, four years , and my belongings have been reduced to a few measly boxes.” She took a pull off the bottle she held then another. “—And, AND! Look around. Do you think any of this artwork is mine?”
Glancing around, Todd winced. “Dear god, I hope not—”
“Not a damn piece. I don’t even have a tiny fucking succulent sitting on the windowsill because it wouldn’t ‘ go with the aesthetic .’”
“Well,” Todd said as he took a hesitant breath and retrieved a packet of face wipes from his bag. He pulled a few out and began wiping his glossy lips. “You morphed to fit into Brodan’s life and didn’t expect him to adapt to yours. You edited your world, and he swallowed you up.”
“So, I let this happen. Is that what you’re saying? It’s my fault?”
“There’s no fault, Luce. Take it from someone who spent the better part of twenty years trying to fit into a mold of someone else’s expectations. It’s an easy rut to fall into and extremely hard to break out of. But now you have the opportunity to reinvent yourself.”
Lucy didn’t know if it was Todd’s wisdom or the twelve-dollar “champagne,” but everything became earth-shatteringly clear. She had lost herself. Not all at once. An immediate shift like that would have been easy to detect. No, this had happened over the course of years. How many times had she taken trips to the thrift store to donate a box of plates, picture frames, or clothes all because Brodan hadn’t been willing to make space? How many times did they go out to the types of clubs or restaurants that she hated just because he wanted to? Or blown off her friends to spend time with him and his circle? She always went along with what Brodan wanted, never speaking up to say what she wanted. She rarely, if ever, told him no.
“You know what?” Vitriol boiled to the surface and for once in her life she was unwilling to swallow it back down. “I am done being a doormat. From here on out, I’m going to be more selfish. No one is going to walk all over me, and I’m going to be my own boss. Make my own decisions! I’m going to start telling people ‘No.’”
“That’s right, girl.” Todd beamed, carefully peeling the plump set of lashes from his eyelids. “Now, only one question remains. What are you going to do about your trip?”
The trip.
The romantic couple’s nature retreat.
Lucy’s chest deflated and she stopped pacing for a moment as her shoulders slumped forward. “Maybe I should try to cancel. I doubt I’d get a refund, but it’s no big deal eating the cost, considering.”
Todd thought for a moment then shook his head. “Vetoed. I think you should still go.”
“Really? Why?”
“Get back to what you love and treat it like therapy. It’s already bought and paid for. And, you said so yourself, you probably can’t get your money back.”
“Maybe I could find a friend to come with me . . .” Lucy slowly grinned at Todd, who vigorously shook his head.
“Nice try, sweetie, but I can’t say this emphatically enough. Hell no .”
She eyed her friend, who wiggled an outstretched hand, requesting another drink from the champagne bottle. Finding it drained, Todd carelessly tossed the empty onto the couch. Lucy resumed marching back and forth in the living room, wringing her hands together. “So, I should go alone?”
“Yes! It would be very Eat, Pray, Love of you.” His mischievous grin made Lucy wary. “Live your Julia Roberts fantasy and do a little soul searching.”
“Hmm. A trip alone. It feels a little sad. Don’t you think it would be sad?”
“No, I think it’s empowering.” Todd stood and adjusted the hem of his dress then walked to his pacing friend. He laid a hand on each of her shoulders. “This. Is. A. Good. Thing. Trust me. You can move in with me until you find a place of your own. Go on your trip, and once you get some distance, you’ll see that you’re better off.” He pulled her in for a strong hug. “I promise.”
Lucy relaxed into her friend’s embrace, inhaling the scent of roses, tequila, and a faint whisp of cigarette smoke. “You’re probably right.”
“Like I said—”
“I know, I know,” Lucy interrupted. “You’re always right.”
“That’s my girl. Now, finish packing your shit while I get changed, then let’s go get some breakfast. Mama’s hungry!”