Chapter Six
“So.” Tyler’s voice interrupts the podcast I’d gone back to listening to, and I pause it in mild annoyance. “How’s Mr. Two First Names doing at the University of Hawai?i?”
I straighten up, narrowing my eyes a little. “I told you, Jack is doing fine,” I reply in a voice that better translates to You have no right to ask. “Mom said I could start my spring break trip a little early.”
“Ah, Sherri. I miss her.” His tone is wistful, bringing me back to all the jokes they shared over our kitchen table, and the appreciation he had for Mom’s truly out-of-control mug collection. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s fine.” As fine as she can be, for someone who was just broken up with again. Tyler must read it in my tone, because he frowns and sits up straighter.
“Another one?”
My grim nod confirms it. “Another one.”
“Damn.” He sits back and shakes his head, disappointed. “Was it Neil? I was really hoping he was the one for her. They got along so well.”
It’s surprising to me that he still remembers who my mother was dating a year ago, but then again, that’s Tyler Ferris for you—thoughtful to a fault.
I think Mom took our breakup even harder than I did, especially because even though I told her when it happened, I still haven’t told her why.
“Yeah. She really was sure he was going to be The One, you know? She spent a whole month fixing her chipped nails every single day, because she swore a proposal was on the horizon. Really thought it was about to happen when he showed up and took her on a surprise dinner date—but it was more of a breakup date.” As soon as the words leave my lips, Cranky Lady gasps in the seat next to us, and both Tyler and I glance her way.
She lowers the magazine she’d gone back to reading in the middle of my spiel, having given up on trying to sleep. “What? That’s too good of a story to pretend I didn’t hear it.”
“I know, right?” The easy way Tyler immediately jumps into the conversation with our less-than-pleasant seatmate is a reminder of how he possesses the scarily easy ability to connect with anyone he comes across.
“I mean, a breakup dinner? That’s worse than breaking up over a text message, in my opinion.
Thank god I’ve never been broken up with that way.
” His eyes skirt over me and my face heats up in shame, because while I may have had the heart not to break up with Tyler over text, I’m still not entirely proud of how I did handle it.
And judging by the quick look he gives me, it seems like he isn’t quite over it, either.
Cranky Lady nods sagely, placing the magazine in her lap. “Oh, definitely. Entirely inexcusable.”
Tyler points at her as if to say exactly, before turning back to me. “When are you finally going to break through as her voice of reason and convince her to ditch these deadbeats?”
Yeah, right. This gets a mirthless laugh out of me. “Please. We both know that the only voice of reason Sherri Austin listens to is her own. And that’s probably why she keeps ending up in these situations.” It’s not even like this is close to her worst heartbreak, either. Tyler nods in agreement.
The worst heartbreak of my mother’s that Tyler had ever seen was when some guy named Asher from LA proposed to her during a whirlwind weekend together after dating for a few months.
Mom swore it was the real deal, as she often did—and it was right around the time that Tyler started coming over to the house, so he got a firsthand look at all the wedding planning she’d started doing, before she and Asher (read: mainly Asher) decided to scrap the whole thing and elope in Vegas.
Tyler had been helping me pack and talking me through my jumble of nerves, being that I’d only been to Vegas with my mother one other time, and there was particularly bad turbulence that left me wary of planes ever since.
I remember, as soon as I’d heard about her harebrained idea, how quickly I’d pulled out my phone and texted Delia and Tyler in our group chat.
Olive: OMG, you guys, Asher and my mom decided they’re going to ELOPE.
Tyler: ??? What happened to the big white wedding she was going on about?
Delia: Wait, she’s actually going through with marrying that weirdo?
Olive: Guess so. Gets worse—they’re doing it in Vegas
Delia: OMG. This, I have to hear about. Are we all invited?
Olive: Ha, probably not. I’m shocked *I* even snagged an invite.
Delia: Well, I’m sure it’s bound to be the party of the season. Send lots of pics!
Delia: Oh, and if you manage to sneak yourself into a casino, give me a call first.
Delia: My uncle taught me some blackjack tips that could come in handy.
Olive: Yeah D, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind
Tyler: Ol, this is crazy.
Tyler: Hang tight. I’m coming over.
Delia: Wish I could join, but Nunzio has me doing double duty on deliveries tonight.
Delia: Pray that the customers tip well so I have some Vegas betting funds to contribute xo
“Is your mom sure about this?” Tyler whispered to me when he showed up fifteen minutes later, concern lining his features.
We listened to the sounds of Mom struggling to zip up her suitcase in the den downstairs, humming “Chapel of Love” under her breath while she worked.
“She seemed so excited about the big wedding every time I came over. She was literally showing me her Pinterest mood board the other day.”
“Pinterest?” I looked up from where I was folding the last few T-shirts that would fit into my bag. “I didn’t realize she even knew how to work Pinterest. Or that she knew what a mood board was.”
Tyler shrugged. “I didn’t even know what Pinterest was until she showed me. It’s kinda cool.”
I grunted as I tried to close my own suitcase, which was nearly bursting open and one step away from vomiting its contents all over my bed.
Tyler was perched on my desk chair, watching the whole thing in bemusement, since I refused to let him help.
I watched him glance over at my planner, open on my desk, the Vegas wedding date inked in bright pink pen with a tiny diamond ring sticker next to it.
Even if I wasn’t totally on board with the plan, it was in the planner, and so it shall be.
“It’s what she wants,” I explained with a sigh, even if I knew that deep down, I agreed with him and the whole thing felt like a mistake. “Who am I to stand in the way of that?”
Tyler’s eyes tracked my hands as, frustrated, I jerked the zipper of the suitcase closed. “Well, for starters, you’re pretty much her only voice of reason.”
I couldn’t help but snort at that. “Please. I couldn’t get through to her even if I tried. She’s a lost cause when it comes to these men, and she’s going to wind up pushing forward with whatever she wants to do, anyway.”
And lo and behold, she did—twelve hours later, Mom and I were standing in our still-dark kitchen waiting for the cab to the airport, which is exactly when Aster texted her to call off the wedding.
Texted her. He couldn’t even bother to call her or, I don’t know, actually show up to tell her to her face.
My mother’d had some close calls with love before, but until that moment, she’d never been en route to the wedding itself when everything fell apart.
I wasn’t even thinking when I did it—my brain was on autopilot.
It was five in the morning, my mother had just crumpled to the ground wailing in heartbroken agony, and I didn’t know what to do, so my muscles took over.
I hadn’t even known I’d taken the phone out of my pocket until I heard Tyler’s sleepy voice on the other line.
“Ol?” he mumbled, punctuated by a yawn. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes…and no. We’re okay,” I hurriedly explained, because while it was a heartbreak emergency, thankfully nobody was actually dying.
I was so ashamed that in that moment, the biggest thing on my mind was that I would have to scratch out the pink-inked note about Mom’s wedding day in my planner.
That the tiny diamond ring sticker would probably rip the paper when I pulled it up.
That my perfectly organized planner would look ugly and ruined—not unlike the state of my mother’s relationship.
“Did you guys get to the airport okay?” Tyler’s voice interrupted my mental self-shaming.
I sighed into the receiver as I watched my mother curl up on the couch, her body shaking with unreleased sobs, not unlike an infant whose face turns all purple before letting out a piercing wail.
“That’s the thing, Ty…I don’t think we’re going to the airport.
” And that stupid diamond ring sticker is going to ruin this week’s layout, I wanted to blurt, but I didn’t, even though Tyler would’ve immediately understood why that bothered me so much, because he’s Tyler.
The clock on the microwave hadn’t even hit five-fifteen before there was a knock at the door. When I swung it open, I was still surprised to see him there, even though somewhere deep in the chambers of my heart, I knew he would be.
“I got here as fast as I could.” Tyler yawned again, standing there in the purpling dawn with his rumpled pajama pants, hoodie, and a pillow-creased face. “How can I help?”
And while there is no medically documented cure for heartbreak—nothing but time, and wine, and ice cream, unfortunately—Tyler was the biggest help that day, whether it involved sitting on the couch with Mom while she vented her frustrations, or fixing her a mug of tea, or quietly lowering the volume on the TV after she dozed off watching Jeopardy!
He helped me cancel the flight and get back the hotel deposit with no problems.
Tyler Ferris spent the whole day, from sunrise to sunset, helping me nurse my mother’s heart back to health, and he had no idea how grateful I was for it.
I told him that much after dinner, when Mom finally slunk up to her room with a piercing headache, and he and I were sprawled across my bed, my head in his lap while his fingers toyed gently with the roots of my hair, giving me a much-needed scalp massage after a day of nonstop caretaking and stress.
I was certain that, after witnessing an entire day of my mother’s mental unraveling and the drama that was our two-person family, Tyler would want out.
Or at least wouldn’t want to hang around my house anymore.
But when I told him that it was getting late and it would be okay if he left, he looked down at me incredulously.
“You want me to leave?” He looked a little bit wounded. “But what if your mom needs either of us? I’m happy to stay, Ol—I already talked to my parents about it.”
“You talked to your parents about my mom?” I bolted up, and a hot lick of shame slithered across my face, and the shock on Tyler’s face let me know it was visible.
I’d met Tyler’s parents before, and they were so sweet and somewhat sickeningly picture-perfect, the epitome of finding your soulmate and building a life with them.
The complete antithesis of me and my mom.
It was, to put it lightly, mortifying to think about them knowing the details of our life.
“No, no, no—I would never.” He reached out and grabbed both my hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I told them you needed me here today because you’re going through something. They said it’s fine, Olive. They know I’d never leave you if you needed my help.”
First the embarrassment of Tyler potentially telling his parents about my crazy, reckless mother, and then the mortification of being someone who needed help—it was too much. I’d pulled my hands out of his grip and started pacing my room.
“I appreciate it, I really do,” I said, and the words were true, even if it hurt to say the rest of it. “But I don’t need your help. This isn’t the first time she’s been like this. We’ll be just fine.”
I expected Tyler to be agreeable and leave, or, on the other hand, at least put up some sort of fight.
But he did neither of those things. He simply leaned back against the pillows on my bed, nodding seriously.
“Of course you’d be okay,” he said after a few quiet seconds, seeming to choose his words carefully.
“It was never a question about whether you’d be okay.
I just didn’t want you to have to go through that alone if you didn’t have to. ”
Oh, I remember thinking, when did someone light a sparkler in my heart?
I already knew I loved Tyler, but up until that moment, I’d never known what people meant when they said they fell more and more in love with a person every day.
Once you’ve given someone your whole heart, how could you fall any deeper?
But that was the moment I knew love wasn’t just contained in the four chambers of a human heart—it was a well with no bottom.
Or rather, with a very far down bottom—but eventually, pennies and wishes tossed over the edge would crash against the cold, dark stone below.
Life taught me that lesson, and fast.
I just didn’t know it yet. I still had the na?ve belief that all wells were bottomless, catching your wishes and storing them safely. Not sending them down into a darkness they can’t climb back from.