Chapter 30 Broken Hearts Club
brOKEN HEARTS CLUB
It was Tuesday, twelve days since Tristan left.
The client in front of me was crying. His best friend died.
Suicide. I sat next to him, rubbing his back as he retched in the trash can.
His heart was breaking. He was at the sickness stage.
His ribs had broken, and now he was trying to bleed out the childhood friend who had turned into more.
It wasn’t death that made us cry. That filled us with such an ache that we wanted to lie down and die ourselves. It was our hearts breaking.
We misnamed them, the steps of grief. It’s not grief; it’s heartbreak.
An event so traumatic that it shows up on brain scans.
We could feel it in our bones and in the connective tissue that held us together.
Heartbreak lasted so long because our brains were grappling with our hearts.
The stubborn organ that won’t come to terms with our new reality.
“Will this pain ever go away?” The boy’s blue eyes were watery like the sea. Turbulent and sad.
I shook my head, trying to believe my own lie.
“In time,” I said, handing him a glass of water, “you will learn to see the pain as something else. Someday you will smile at the sound of his name. Or the way the sunlight catches the wing of a butterfly. There will still be tears, but not because he’s gone. But because you knew him.”
He set the trash can down and hung his head and cried again.
I wanted to comfort him. To wrap my arms around him and cry with him.
Tell him it was all a lie. Heartbreak never healed.
It would follow you like your shadow. It would bleed into every aspect of your life.
That it might kill you. But that wasn’t my job.
My job was to tell him he would survive this.
I had Heidi send in the young girl who came with him.
There was a soft knock at the door, and the girl rushed over to him.
She gathered him in her arms, whispering she was never letting go of him.
She looked over to me. She wanted me to fix this.
I wondered if I looked like that girl, holding a broken Tristan, begging my father to fix him.
“I’ve spoken to Dr. Arnit. He has called in a prescription for some medication.
Something to help him sleep. Dr. Arnit is a grief specialist and will see him tomorrow at eight a.m. Can you get him there?
” I held out Simon Arnit’s card. He was a few years older than me.
And somehow he had survived the greatest heartache.
The girl nodded, taking the card. She ushered out the boy, whose sobs had turned to hiccups.
It was noon. Callie was still in session, so I was going to eat my lunch at my desk.
I called Noah back. He tried to cover for his brother again, saying he was sure Tristan mentioned something about some work at the shop. The shop being in St. Cloud.
I opened one of the many soups Craig had made me.
The smell made my stomach turn, so I closed it and just ate the crackers.
I had reread the announcement so many times I could recite it.
Not a lot of people remembered Tristan’s real last name.
Laura had been too young to marry James before Tristan was born.
He started going by Anderson after we met.
Anderson was closer to Carter. That way we were always seated next to each other.
I had come to terms he wasn’t coming back. How could he have had a wife in a few months? A new life?
“Happy birthday,” Callie cried, carrying in a big bouquet of flowers and setting them on my desk.
“Wow, you didn’t have to do this.” They were beautiful, all my favorites. Dark calla lilies and dark, almost black, red roses, with faded pink, almost white, accents and dark green ferns.
“I didn’t. Open the card.” Callie’s excitement was unmistakable.
I didn’t want to. Because they could be from anyone. My mother. Okay, not from my mother. A friend. Or Tristan. And until I read it, there was still hope it was Tristan.
“Open it.”
Happy Birthday. I hope your day is filled with all the things you love. Ian.
I blinked back the tears. “They’re from Ian.”
“What?” Callie couldn’t hide her disappointment. She, like me, had hoped that maybe Tristan had remembered. “Fuck.” She flopped down on the chair, pouting.
“I assume not even Craig has heard from him.”
“No.” Callie moved the flowers to the small side table. “How could he forget?”
“He has a new life, that’s how.” His wedding was set for January.
I wasn’t sure who got married in January.
Jennifer and Tristan did. She and Tristan were probably sampling cake and deciding if they should have chicken or steak.
Tristan was getting fitted for his tux. I played with the card.
Ian and I hadn’t spoken since that night.
He had left a voice message saying he was sorry and that he wanted to talk.
I had given Tristan all the forgiveness. Forgiveness he didn’t deserve. And I hadn’t given Ian the same. And Ian didn’t leave. I left. I seemed to do that a lot. Leave my life. But not anymore; I was done leaving. And done with green-eyed boys.
“Maybe I should invite Ian tonight.” Zoey was back from California, so Callie thought we could celebrate my thirtieth and Zoey’s return.
Craig suggested we do it at the restaurant.
I’d rather have gone home to drink my problems away.
But as Callie pointed out, that wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism.
“No. I mean, whatever. It’s your life.” Callie frowned at the flowers.
“Callie? We went over this. If you know something about Tristan, please tell me.”
“I know nothing, and neither does Craig. I asked. I even withheld sex from him.” Callie touched the rose petals. “And that was harder on me, by the way.”
“Wow, you are a true friend. It’s okay. Really.” I played with the card, thinking about what my life could look like with Ian. There wouldn’t be heartbreak, not at this level. I would learn to live my life on the surface. I was tired of drowning in the ocean that was Tristan.
“Don’t call Ian. He’s still not right for you.”
“Yes, he is.” I hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh. “He’s nice, and he has never done anything to make me cry.”
“Evan. He’s never done anything to make you smile either. Love hurts sometimes and it makes us cry.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Do you love Ian? Do you love the way he makes you feel?”
“There’s more to a relationship than love.
What about respect and…” I choked on the lie I was told.
I could learn to love Ian. Learn to fit into his life.
“I can’t do this with Tristan anymore. I can’t keep…
” I paused, swallowing down the tears. “Loving someone who doesn’t love me enough.
He asked her to marry him. He made plans with her.
He wants a future with her. Not me. So I need to start thinking like him.
I need someone who will… will make sure I know all the details of a dinner. Who won’t hide shit from me.”
“I think you’re making a big mistake. Hate Tristan if you want. But don’t settle.” Callie stood.
“I’m not.”
“I have another client. Can we talk more before you call Ian?”
I didn’t look at her. She didn’t know this kind of heartbreak. She had Craig, and he was stable. He had a good family, sisters who teased him, parents who loved him. They had moved to this country to keep their children safe.
“Ev?”
“Callie, please.”
“What if Tristan shows up?”
“He won’t. He’s getting married. Why would he come?”
“You are not alone in this. Craig, Zoey, and I love and care about you. Don’t go looking for something you don’t need. Especially not from Ian,” she said before she left me.
I dialed Ian’s cell. I knew he wouldn’t answer it. But he picked up on the second ring.
“Evan?”
“Ian?” I panicked. “I’m sorry, I was going to leave a message.”
“No… no, it’s okay. Um… happy birthday.”
He sounded sad. I had never heard that in Ian’s voice. “Thank you. I got the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“You did? I told them all your favorites. Did they get it right?”
“They did. Thank you,” I said, breathing out.
“It’s Blu and Michael. Your middle names. I’ve started seeing someone.”
“Oh. That’s good. I mean, you’re a great guy.”
“No… a… therapist. Not, like, seeing him. Like, talking to him.” Ian stumbled over his words. “He says I have to learn to listen better and that I never include people in my life. So I’m trying.”
“That’s great, Ian.”
“Can we talk? Please.”
The tears started to fall. All this time I thought Tristan would be the sure thing.
How could he not be? We had a history. We had been each other’s first loves.
He had been my first everything. Kiss. Boyfriend.
But not my last. I hadn’t even been the one he chose to marry.
To share the rest of his life with. I was still just the girl he needed to fix him.
“I would like that. In fact a few of us are getting together tonight at The Cock and Butcher. You remember my chef friend? Well, now he’s Callie’s chef friend. If you want to come. I mean, if you have nothing—”
“What time?”
“Seven.” I heard him curse under his breath. “It’s okay. It’s last minute.”
“No, I have a dinner meeting with a client. But I’ll cut it short.”
“Ian. It’s okay. Come when you can. I understand.”
“I’ll be there by eight. Business dress okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight.” I hung up. I could feel the last bit of hope slipping from my heart.
This next stage was the hardest one.