Chapter 4
Cade
I’d heard the word heartbreak my whole life.
Songwriters made millions off that word. Movie studios built entire franchises on it. Every sad song on every radio station was basically a heartbreak delivery vehicle with a chorus attached. I had listened to those songs and watched those movies and thought: sure, okay, that sounds unpleasant.
I had no idea.
None.
When Maple shut that door in my face, I felt something happen in my chest that I had no prior reference for.
A fast, shooting pain, followed by a heaviness that settled in behind it like it was planning to stay.
My throat closed. My breathing went weird.
I stood on her porch in the dark and stared at her front door and finally realized what that word really meant.
So that’s what they’ve all been writing about.
That was two weeks ago.
The heaviness hadn’t moved.
I’d tried everything. Sleep — useless. Whiskey — made it worse, which was new information I resented.
I’d spent an entire Saturday on the Playstation, which had always been my guaranteed method for not thinking about anything, and I had died repeatedly on a level I’d cleared a hundred times because I kept losing focus. Nothing worked. Nothing came close.
The only thing that gave me any relief at all was texting her.
Which I did. Constantly. Every day, multiple times a day, because I was apparently now that person and I had made my peace with it.
I apologized. I told her she deserved better.
I told her I was sorry, then I was sorry again, then I found new and specific ways to be sorry because I had a lot of material to work with.
And every time I hit send, I watched those two little ticks turn blue, and something in the heaviness in my chest would ease by about three percent for approximately four minutes.
She was reading them.
Every single one.
I had never in my life been as grateful for the invention of the mobile phone as I was right now. At least what I actually felt was getting through to her. At least the real thing was landing somewhere.
I needed to know exactly what she’d heard.
Not because I was looking for a loophole. There was no loophole. But I needed the full picture before I could figure out how to fix it, so I called Kyle and asked him what he remembered.
Kyle told me. And as he talked, a picture started forming in my head. Maple on the back porch. The door left open. The October dark, the leaves coming down, her wine glass steady in her hand. Her own name drifting out through the gap in the door.
Girls like her don’t belong here.
A Sonnenberg doesn’t marry a pole dancer.
I sat with the full picture for a long time after I hung up on Kyle.
The party had been my idea. Every fall, the Sonnenbergs hosted the two biggest events in Chestnut Ridge — the fall party, open to the whole town, and the Christmas party, which was mostly my parents’ business circle.
This year my parents were in the Middle East for a client meeting, so I’d scaled it back — just friends, just the usual crowd.
Kyle and his sister Sapphire had helped with the arrangements.
Kyle’s dad and my dad went back decades.
Kyle, Sapphire and I had practically grown up in each other’s houses.
Kyle’s dad had made some bad business calls, lost most of what he’d built, and had been in a bad place ever since — drinking too much, going out less.
My dad was trying to put together a partnership with him to help revive the business.
Until then, it was Kyle running things, and I had been doing everything I could to help him.
That was what you did for family friends. You showed up.
Kyle and Sapphire had always come to these parties.
Sapphire had recently divorced and was apparently not taking it quietly.
She and Maple had been talking most of the evening — something about dance, something about Sapphire joining Maple’s salsa class.
I had watched them from across the room and smiled.
Maple had this specific quality. She made people feel genuinely heard.
She was actually, sincerely interested in other people’s lives and it showed, and people responded to it whether they mean to or not.
Even Sapphire, who in high school had been straight out of Mean Girls, had been leaning in and laughing.
Then Kyle pulled me to the bar.
A few whiskeys in, I turned around and Maple wasn’t with Sapphire.
“Where did Maple go?” I asked Sapphire.
Sapphire waved her hand toward the stairs. “She went to the bathroom. I told her to have a look at the art collection on her way up — she seemed interested when I mentioned it.”
I nodded. I wasn’t worried. Maple was the kind of person who could find something interesting in any room she walked into.
Kyle clinked his glass against mine. “One more?”
“One more,” I agreed.
The bartender poured. Kyle leaned on the counter and looked at me the way he did when he had something important to share.
He had not been fully present for most of the evening.
“What is it?” I asked. “Nothing.” He smiled sadly and poured himself a drink.
I knew that look well enough to know something was bothering him.
“Tell me… Is it something about your dad?” Kyle took a sip.
“It’s nothing Cade, I don’t want to spoil your evening. ”
“Come on Kyle. I need you to talk to me.” I said.
I was genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.
Kyle looked at me for a long moment, and then took his phone out.
“You remember I talked about the new project idea I was discussing with the investors from Texas?” Kyle had been trying to venture into oil and gas production, and he had been in talks with a Texas conglomerate for almost a year.
“Yeah, Greg and his team, right?” I asked.
Kyle nodded. “They won’t be investing in my project anymore.
They backed out at the last minute.” He said, his eyes firm on the drink in front of him.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Kyle had been working his ass off the last year and things were so close to getting final.
This must be a big setback for him. “I didn’t want to bother you, Cade.
You and your family have already done so much for us.
” There was a deep sadness in his voice when he said that.
He slowly sipped his drink. “Show me the plan.” I said.
“Now?” Kyle asked, his eyes wide. “Yes. Right now. Do you have a digital copy of it?” Kyle nodded.
“I can ask Dad to talk to some of his investors in the Middle East.” I said.
“Let’s go upstairs then. We can take a print out—”
“This can wait, Cade.” Kyle said. “I don’t want you to do this in the middle of your party.
Maple’s here. I want you to spend some time with her.
” I looked at my watch. Maple should be back down in a few minutes.
“I can ask if Sapphire can give her some company. I only need to see the project summary and the numbers right now, so I can talk to Dad tomorrow morning. He will fly out in two days. We need to double down on this, Kyle.” I said.
Kyle nodded. I went to Sapphire and asked her to tell Maple I’d be in the office and that I’d join her downstairs soon. “Yeah, of course. I’ll keep Maple company. She’s so much fun to be with.” Sapphire smiled. I turned to Kyle. “Alright,” I said. “Let’s hear about your idea.”
We went upstairs and Kyle showed me the proposal summaries.
The numbers looked good and I was fairly confident Dad and I could do something for him.
Kyle looked relieved when I told him that, and I was genuinely happy to see his shoulders drop a little.
We had another drink, and I raised a toast for his future success.
We started talking, and the conversation soon went to Maple.
Kyle said he wanted to let me know he really liked Maple and thought she was the perfect girl for me.
He asked me if I had thought of introducing her to Mom and Dad.
I have had too many drinks up to that point.
The very thought of introducing Maple to my parents made me defensive enough to start trivializing what Maple and I had between us.
And then naturally, Kyle brought up the wedding bells, and when he asked if I would be marrying Maple, if I was serious, if I was ready for that — I panicked. That was the honest truth of it.
I panicked because I hadn’t thought about it, because the truth was I had never thought seriously about any woman, not ever, not even close, and here was Kyle asking me to define something I hadn’t defined to myself.
And I said what I said. Kyle was just asking the question, but what came out of my fucking mouth? That was all me.
That was who I was a week ago. I was too disgusting and too shallow to understand the worth of the only woman who ever made him feel complete.
But I knew now.
The only time I had ever felt like myself was with Maple.
The girls my parents approved of had never held my attention for longer than a dinner.
I had fun with them. They had fun with me.
That was the whole story. With Maple, I talked.
I asked questions and actually waited for the answers.
I had gone to a fourteen-year-old’s soccer game and memorized defensive formation statistics because I wanted one specific kid to have a conversation with me.
I had never done that for anyone.
And I had been too drunk and too defensive to know what that meant until I saw the look on Maple’s face on her porch.
The look was what got me. Not the middle finger. I had earned that. The look right before it, when she talked about the pole dancing, when her voice cracked just that once, and she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and said: I’m proud of it.