35. Winona
Winona
The best way to help someone who is grieving
is simply to be there.
~ Unknown
The drive home from Declan’s is a blur—mostly because I’m crying so hard it’s like driving through a rainstorm, only without windshield wipers.
I pull up in front of my house, checking around for reporters.
When I don’t see anyone, I get out of the car and speed walk to my porch.
I never thought about who was around my house before things blew up online. But I meant what I told Declan. I would put up with all of it for him. People make sacrifices for love all the time. In sickness or health, for better, for worse. I would have made those vows to Declan and lived them out.
When I open the door, Cass is on the couch reading.
Her head pops up. She wasn’t expecting me home so soon after leaving.
She takes one look at me and asks, “What happened?”
“Declan and I … broke up.” I can barely get the words out.
“You what?”
I can’t repeat it. I know I don’t need to anyway. She heard me.
I get why he made his decision. It’s not my choice. But I didn’t fight him.
He’s hurting. I know him better than anyone. Not being able to protect me has been killing him slowly. Knowing we will be under fire over and over means he’d never be free of the weight he’s carrying.
He thought he was protecting me by breaking up.
Well, I’m returning the favor by protecting him.
Cass stares at me. I stand in place. Rooted. Unable to move.
“Has he lost his mind?” Cass asks.
“It’s not him. He didn’t do anything.”
“You broke up with him?” Her face contorts with confusion.
“We broke up. It was mutual.” Declan might not agree with my take on how our breakup went, but I know. I went along with it.
A tear leaks out.
“I feel like a faucet,” I say. “I’m leaking.”
Cass laughs, but her face fills with sympathetic pain.
And since it’s Cass, I tell her. “I cried like a baby all the way home.”
“Win.” Her voice is as sad as I feel.
She walks over to me and pulls me into a hug.
I collapse into her arms. And then the tears come again.
I sag against my sister and she holds me up while I let it all out.
“I love him, Cass. He’s it for me. I’ll never love anyone like I love him.”
To her credit, Cass just holds me, making shushing noises and running her hand over my hair, which makes me remember how he always held me and how he would caress my hair. A slideshow of moments flashes through my mind, each one triggering more tears.
“I already miss him. How am I going to get over this?”
“Shhhh,” Cass says. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. You just have to get cozy and grieve.”
“Oh … oh … oh … kay,” I sputter out between sobs.
Then a fresh wave of sadness overtakes me, coming from somewhere deep within me.
Cass walks me over to the couch. I settle onto the cushion. She wraps me in a soft blanket. When I tug it around me, I realize it’s the one Declan gave me for Christmas less than a week ago.
He’s everywhere. I let him all the way in. And he let me go.
The strangest thoughts come to me, each one dragging up pain and more tears. I’ll never be at the practice facility again. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Darlene. I won’t be in the stands for his games. And he’ll know I’m not there.
Cass fixes me soup. It sits on the coffee table. I can’t eat.
She brings me a cup of tea. I take a sip and it joins the soup.
I cry myself out.
“I’m tired,” I finally tell Cass. She’s been keeping a vigil, sitting on the other end of the couch, quietly watching and just being here for me.
“Do you want to get ready for bed?”
“I have to. I have work tomorrow.”
“Can you cancel?”
“I’m too tired to cancel.”
She holds her hand out. “Give me your cell.”
I pull it out of my pocket, peeking once to see if I missed a text or call from Declan. I know I didn’t. He’s not going to call. He has more discipline than anyone I know.
Cass pulls up my schedule in my Notes app and starts calling people one by one. I want to stop her. But the bigger part of me breathes a sigh of relief with each call.
“Winona isn’t feeling so hot. She’s going to take the rest of the week off.”
“Winona might be coming down with something …” On and on she goes until my entire calendar is cleared for the rest of the week.
“Was that such a good idea?” I ask her. “I’m going to be here, alone, moping all week.”
“You are free to do whatever you need to do. Now you have no obligations. So if you need to curl up with a pillow and cry your eyes out, you can. If you want to bundle up and take a walk, do that. Just wear sunglasses so they don’t get you on film.”
“Uggghhh.” I growl out a loud sound that feels so good I do it again. “Uhhhhgggghhhhh!”
Then I collapse. I’m so wiped out, Cass has to walk me upstairs, make me brush my teeth and tuck me in.
“Thanks,” I tell her when she flips the light out.
“I’m right across the hall. Wake me if you need me.”
“Hopefully I’m going to sleep for a really, really long time—like, all week.”
She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t talk me out of my sadness.
She just says, “I love you, Win.”
“I love you too. You are my person.”
She shuts the door and I allow more tears, soft ones that trickle out and fall onto my pillow.
Declan was my person.
He still is.
A man doesn’t stop being your person just because he tells you he has to break up with you.
He’s my person.
That’s why this hurts so much.
I spend the next few days sequestered at home. I don’t shower. I barely eat. I lay on the couch staring out the front window.
Reporters show up on day three. When there’s no sign of me leaving the house, they go away. Cass makes me shower that afternoon.
“You stink,” she says. “And I say that in love. You can wallow. But you can wallow with clean hair and a fresh set of pajamas.”
By day four, heartbreak feels like my new personality.
My friends stop by. They called me and I didn’t answer, so they called Cass and she told them what happened. Daisy said she knew, because Declan told Patrick. She was just giving me space until Sydney decided they needed to bring me pastries and coffee.
I don’t even change into clothes when they show up.
We’re all sitting around the living room.
“How are you?” Emberleigh asks.
“Don’t ask her that,” Sydney says, smiling shyly at me.
“It’s fine. You can ask. I’m just really sad.”
Everyone’s quiet for a beat.
“Please don’t tiptoe around me,” I say. “I’m sure life will resume in time … Next week, actually.”
“Take your time,” Daisy says, smiling softly.
“Pastries help,” Emberleigh says.
I pick up the chocolate croissant she and Syd brought me from the bakery.
I take a bite and let it melt in my mouth. “You’re not wrong,” I say around the bite. “I haven’t been very hungry.” I take another bite. “This is so good.”
They stick around another hour, eventually giving up tiptoeing around my emotional minefield. I tell the story of our breakup—keeping it simple and making sure they know it was mutual.
As soon as I finish talking, Daisy switches the subject to how everyone’s Christmas went.
I don’t share anything. Christmas is my last happy memory with Declan.
Daisy notices my silence. “Winona, remember that Christmas when we were in high school?” She goes into the story, even though we all know it by heart. Emberleigh stands and walks over to where I’m sitting on the couch.
She plops down next to me and whispers, “I brought an extra box of pastries. I’ll leave them in the kitchen. I think it’s perfectly acceptable to live on croissants for the time being.”
I smile, resting my head on her shoulder. She wraps an arm around me.
Carli says, “Oh my gosh! Remember we hid that life-sized Santa in the hog barn? I can still see my dad’s face when he discovered it.”
Daisy laughs. “We thought we were being so smooth.”
I love that my friends came here—that they’re trying their best to sponge up my pain.
Cass makes eye contact with me, and whatever she sees sends her into action.
“Well, thanks for coming over!” she says, standing abruptly and walking to the door.
Though momentarily stunned, everyone stands and follows her lead, grabbing their coats, hugging me goodbye and heading out.
Emberleigh hands the pastry box to Cass before following Syd out. “These are for later. For Winona.”
Cass nods.
As soon as the door shuts, Cass turns to me. “You looked like you’d had enough.”
“It was good they came,” I say. “And yeah. I don’t even know what I need.” I study my hands and then I look up at Cass. “I think I’m going to go over to Sycamore.”
There’s something about being there that feels safe. And I’ve never skipped a week of visiting there. Harold would make note of it if I broke my streak.
“That sounds really good,” Cass says. “I’m going back to work.”
I change into a sweater and jeans and drive over to the senior assisted living center.
Before I go inside, I open my phone for the first time since the day of our breakup. I’ve been avoiding calls and texts—avoiding social media like the plague.
I have over one hundred texts. I can’t believe it.
I open the ones from my customers first, thinking they’re asking for reschedules or trying to set up more Winona for Hire jobs.
The first one is Sally, Jenny’s owner. I heard what happened. Just want to tell you no one handles Jenny like you. Let me know when you’re available again.
Old Man Saunders texted me. I didn’t know he knew how to text. His text simply says, I don’t know what I would have done without you, Winona.
The messages go on and on. Apparently news of our breakup spread through town.
And what do my customers do?
They’re making sure I know I matter.
Text after text, voicemail after voicemail, each one of them says something they appreciate about me. No Plain Jane. No gold digger. No mention of my breakup.
I love this town.
I sit in my car, crying. Only this time, my tears aren’t only for Declan.
I made a difference.
Me. Winona for Hire.
Loretta Simmons is at the piano in the front room when I walk into Sycamore.
Several residents are in their wheelchairs or in the high-back chairs around the room, listening to her play a beautiful classical piece.
I slip into a chair and watch her play. I close my eyes, breathing in a deep breath, letting the music seep somewhere low and tender inside me.
When she stops playing, I open my eyes. She’s at the piano, smiling softly at me.
Loretta stands and walks over to me. She takes the chair next to mine.
“Sometimes rumors make it all the way to Sycamore,” she says. “And I heard one this week.”
“Yes,” I nod. “Declan and I …”
“You called off your courtship?”
I smile at her phrasing. “Yes. We broke up.”
I tell Loretta about my four days of hibernation. Then I tell her about the social media trolls and the way the media twisted my relationship with Declan.
“They’re not wrong,” I say. “I’m not glamorous. I don’t exactly fit in Declan’s world.”
“Glamour is overrated,” Loretta says in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Maybe. If you saw the models and actresses who came to his house—they’re just who you’d picture a man like Declan with. I never really belonged in that scene.”
“Is that how he made you feel?” Loretta asks.
Memories flood me—private memories of our time alone together, the way he always looked at me like I was precious, like he was lucky to have me. Our night at The Standard. The times we spent at the practice facility.
“No. He didn’t make me feel that way. Not once.”
“Isn’t that what matters?”
“I’ve been late to find my way in the world,” I tell Loretta. “Declan’s known his path since childhood. Here I am still doing odd jobs at age twenty-eight. Not even finished with my education. I’m like a half-baked loaf of bread and he’s a tray of perfectly brown croissants.”
“And you want to sink your teeth into those croissants now, don’t you?” She wags her brows.
I laugh for the first time in days. “Loretta!”
“I’m old. I’m not blind.”
“He is pretty scrumptious,” I agree. I close my eyes and picture him as if he’s standing right in front of me. A tear makes its way down my cheek and I swipe it.
“Winona, I’ve lived a lot of years. I’d like to say I’ve become an expert on people over time. And I want to say something to you if you can hear it.”
I nod.
“You’re one of the most accomplished people I know.” She pauses, placing her weathered hand over mine. “Not because you have a degree or an admirable career. Not because you’re beautiful—even though you truly are. And not because you’ve got it all figured out. No one does.”
Another tear trickles down my cheek. I don’t swipe at this one because more are coming.
I give them room to fall, absorbing everything Loretta is saying despite the small voice in the back of my head saying she doesn’t understand.
Something deeper within knows she does. She sees me. She’s lived a life, and she sees me.
“I admire you, Winona. You’ve got something many people never come by—no matter how many pages they fill on their resumes.
You're resourceful. And you make people feel seen. You don’t know how many people come in here, treating us like we’re too old to know a thing or two.
But you always pause. You always listen.
“Time with you leaves people better off. You don’t need a degree for that. And, as a matter of fact, no degree could give someone the skills you have in spades.
“There’s only one Winona, but we all wish there were at least a dozen. I don’t care if a supermodel or actress walks through that door.” She points to the door and then she laughs softly. “Though I wouldn’t complain if Chris Pratt or one of those Hemsworth brothers came strolling through.”
I laugh. “You’re too much.”
“I might be. You’re right. My point is, at my age, you don’t remember the achievements or the status of a person. You remember how they made you feel. And you, Winona, make people feel special.”
I sniff, the tears threatening to make me bawl in Loretta’s arms.
I manage to eke out a “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Truly. And if you really want to thank me, you’ll take my words to heart. Stop belittling yourself, and for goodness’ sake, stop comparing yourself to other people. That’s such a waste of a God-given life.”
“Okay,” I promise. And I mean it.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just been gutted by losing Declan.
Maybe it’s all the people who were so genuinely thankful in those texts and voicemails.
Maybe it’s the way Cass is constantly hammering me about my worth.
It’s probably a combination of all that and something more. But I hear Loretta. Her words travel past my resistance and nestle somewhere deep in my heart.
I make a difference.
I make people feel special.
Maybe I have been measuring myself with the wrong ruler.
I’m just me.
And that’s enough.
“Okay,” I say again, nodding my head with one decisive bob.
“Good,” she says. “Now that’s settled. Let’s play cards.”