11. Heavenleigh
Heavenleigh
We were thirty-two minutes into our hour-long massages when Yara broke. I’d half expected it. Yara was one of the strongest, stubbornest people I knew. What most people didn’t understand was that she also felt everything on a deeper level, and she was just good at hiding it.
All the ups and downs of planning a wedding, the pressure of her mother, and everyday life had been building until she either snapped and killed someone—or finally allowed herself to openly feel all the things swirling within her.
I was glad it was the latter, even as the broken sobs cracked my heart open.
Our massage tables were side by side. Reaching out, I caught the hand she already had lifted toward me, entwining our fingers.
The two women standing over us didn’t speak as they continued with the service.
It was likely not the first time they’d had a client break down during a massage, and it wouldn’t be the last either.
My fingers flexed around my friend’s, silently letting her know I was there. She didn’t need me to tell her everything was going to be okay. Or to make promises that whatever was broken would be fixed. Reassurance wasn’t what Yara needed, and I doubted it was what she wanted to hear.
She needed to cry and not be judged for it.
For ten minutes, she cried it out, until her body went limp and she released a watery sigh. When the massage hour was over, the women murmured for us to take our time.
Slowly, I sat up, wrapping the warm bath sheet around me, and I moved over to Yara’s table. She was slower to rise, her face slightly swollen from all the crying. Sniffling, she scrubbed a hand over her face and tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear.
“After this weekend, I’m going to dry out.
My doctor said if I want to try for a baby, I have to make some major life changes.
Sobriety is one. Getting enough nutrients is another.
” She blew out a heavy breath. “Before I even spoke to the doctor, I kept telling myself I had to do better, make smarter choices. Less alcohol, more food. But then my mother would say something backhanded, or Warren’s mom would make some throwaway comment.
Or I would just look at Marsha’s stupid face and… ”
Shrugging, she gave me a grim smile. “And I would push away the plate of food and pour myself more wine to help block out their voices. I would promise myself I’d start doing those things tomorrow.
Or next week. Always later. And yet, later never arrived.
Then last week, the doctor told me I was ruining my body.
She didn’t sugarcoat it. Didn’t try to soften it.
She point-blank told me if I ever wanted kids, I had to make the changes now. ”
While she spoke, I sat there, my arm still around her, and laughed patiently.
“Since my appointment last week, I’ve been searching for AA meetings, and I’ve been considering doing an outpatient rehab.” Her chin trembled. “It’s going to be hard work, but I know it’s worth it.”
“Whatever you need, I’m here for you, babe.”
“Thank you. Ah fuck, Heav, I’ve missed you so much. You don’t even know…” She trailed off, her voice breaking at the end.
“I’ve missed you too.” I gave her another squeeze. She hugged me back so hard I could barely breathe.
Pulling back, she groaned. “So, you and my brother?”
“It’s very new,” I said with a shrug, giving her the same answer I’d given my mom.
Her brown eyes softened. Not the same russet as her brother’s. Yara’s were lighter, more golden than red. From pictures, I knew that she had her dad’s eyes. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
“Weird. I normally off any girl who chases after my brother.”
“What can I say? I like you more than Jake.”
For the first time since meeting him, a pit opened in my stomach. “Is there a high risk of him hurting me? I mean…is my heart safe with him, Yar?”
She took a moment to consider that. “Of my brothers, Jacob is the least likely to break your heart, babe. Honestly, I think he’s been waiting for someone like you.
Seeing you together makes me almost wish I’d introduced you way back when.
But I don’t think any of us would be here now if that had happened. ”
Yara shifted, readjusting her sheet when it started to slip.
It didn’t surprise me that her ribs were scary visible.
My friend struggled with food more than she did alcohol.
“I would like to think I’ve grown a lot in the past six years.
And to be fair, Jake has always been a good guy.
That’s not me being biased because he’s my brother either.
Jude is another story. He has always been a fucking twat to his girlfriends.
He’s never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months. ”
“I actually met Jude,” I admitted. “Once in freshman year, then again right before graduation. He wasn’t overly friendly either time.”
“You’re underplaying it, no doubt. I love my brother, but I’m not blind to what a dick he is.”
“He was half drunk the second time we bumped into each other, and he hit on me. His line was, ‘You know, in this lighting, you look like a poor man’s Arella Stevenson-Moreitti.’”
“That prick!” She jumped up. “What did you say?”
“I laughed and thanked him for the compliment. Then someone distracted me, and I left him without another thought about the interaction until now.” I stood and picked up a glass of cucumber water.
“Okay, bitch. We need to hydrate hard for the rest of the afternoon or our skin is not going to glow tonight. We’re getting facials and mani-pedis before we meet the guys for dinner. ”
She took the glass I offered her and drained half of it. “One final bar crawl before I’m a married woman. OMFG, I’m getting married!”
Enjoying her happy moment, I grabbed her hand, and we jumped around, squealing like little girls, spilling water all over the place.
Giggling, we grabbed our robes and left the room.
We had lunch on a private patio with a view of the beach.
While we ate, we caught up on the smaller things going on in our lives.
A new project that I was working on. Books that we both had read in the last few weeks. Gossip that I’d overheard at my gallery the previous Friday.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my time now that I don’t have to put so much energy into planning a wedding,” Yara said, picking up her glass of fruit juice. “It’s boring being at home alone while Warren is at work.”
“Yara, you have a master’s in art history. Get a job at a gallery or a museum.” She opened her mouth but quickly shut it again. “It doesn’t even have to be a job if your family is so vehemently against it. Volunteer.”
“Who would even want to hire me, Heav?” she asked quietly after a moment. “I’ve never worked a day in my life.”
“Bullshit. You just haven’t been paid for the work you do.
Big difference. Do not let your mother’s voice in your head tear you down, Yara.
Any gallery would be privileged to have you working with them.
I even offered you a curator position. You were considering it up until Warren finally smartened up and asked you out. ”
“Everyone would have claimed favoritism and said I only got the job because of our friendship,” she dismissed.
“That’s your mother’s voice again, babe.
My Yara would say fuck ’em and then prove to any naysayers why she deserved her place on my staff.
” I scooped up a spoonful of my acaí bowl and fed it to her.
Without hesitation, she opened her mouth.
“The offer is still on the table, by the way. I always have room for you, Yara.”
“It’s something to think about,” she finally said after chewing and swallowing, a hint of excitement entering her voice. “But those are all thoughts for another day. Today is about us and, tonight, our guys.”
My heart jumped. Jake was my guy. Gods, I loved that.