Unpack Your Heartby Phillip Phillips
Quinn:Hey—just wanted to let you know I arrived safely in California. The apartment is beautiful. Allan and his wife are really nice. Hope all is good with you.
I stared at the text for a solid minute, hating every word. It sounded stilted and formal, the kind of thing I might send a work acquaintance or an aunt I hadn’t spoken with in a long time instead of the person who was closer to me than anyone else in the world.
Or who used to be, and maybe that was the problem.
Finally, I hit send and tossed the telephone down on the couch, sighing. When it came to Leo, everything felt uncertain and murky. I couldn’t quite find my footing. I’d been proud of how well I’d handled our meeting at his brother’s engagement party; I knew I’d taken him by surprise with my announcement. He’d seemed almost unhappy that I was moving across the country. I’d expected him to be relieved that I was leaving, after my disastrous visit to Virginia.
Still, I’d managed to stay both aloof and calm without seeming angry or hurt. I hoped that image was the one that would stick with Leo instead of the one where I was a crying, blubbering mess, begging for his love. That one wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t like me. I’d always thought of myself as strong and independent, not needing to lean on anyone, but the last months had proven to me just how wrong I’d been.
After Leo had dropped me at the train station in Richmond that morning, I’d sat in the waiting room, numb and staring, until we were invited to board. Once on the train, I’d managed to nod off now and then, but mostly, I tried not to cry. I was ashamed of what I’d done, embarrassed by how I’d acted with Leo and hurt by how he’d treated me. I’d had a huge pity party for one until Zelda had picked me up at the station in Philadelphia.
When I’d opened the car and climbed in, I’d shot her a dark look. “Not a word. Please. If you love me as your friend, no I-told-you-so’s or anything.”
“I wouldn’t ever, doll.” She’d begun to drive. “But I will ask the hard question. What now?”
I’d sighed, sinking further into the seat. “I have no fucking clue. I guess I’ll go home, hang out there until my mom sells the house out from under me, and then ... I’ll find somewhere to live. I need to call Dawn and start working again, too, so that I have enough money to pay rent.”
“That sounds like the most horrible plan ever. Quinn, come on! Take charge, woman. This is your life, doll. Don’t sit back and wait for it to happen to you. Jump in and make decisions.” She’d rolled her eyes. “The first thing you need to do when you get home is to apologize to your mom. She’s been so upset. You know how much she loves you—are you seriously going to stand in the way of her being happy?”
“With Shane the dry cleaner?” I heard the bitter in my voice, and I hated it.
“Yep. With Shane or Tom or Charlie or whoever the hell else she wants. She deserves to enjoy the rest of her life.”
I’d sat in silence the rest of the way back over the bridge to New Jersey, not speaking until we were near Eatonboro.
“Dawn left me a message yesterday. I listened to it on the train. She has an idea about what I could do next—workwise, anyway. But it means moving to California, at least for a while.”
“California, huh?” She didn’t speak for a minute. “I don’t know any details, doll, but I think you should do it. Or at least give it serious thought.”
And I had. I’d listened to Dawn’s suggestion, and I’d talked to my mom, to Zelda and to Gia. By the following week, I’d made the decision and begun the slow process of pulling myself back to life.
Now I’d been here in northern California for all of three days, and I was miserable. Oh, I hadn’t lied to Leo about the apartment; it was beautiful, with the most expensive-looking furniture I’d ever seen, art adorning the walls and gleaming wood everywhere. The location was perfect, too, just a short walk from the Presidio Forest and with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
But it wasn’t home. I missed my mother, my house and my neighborhood. I missed knowing that when I drove down the street, I’d likely see familiar faces. I missed our grocery stores, my old high school ... I missed Zelda and Gia being a short drive away. And I really, really missed Leo, which was absolutely crazy, considering we hadn’t lived within six hours of each other for years. Not since that summer when we’d had our brief and wonderful few months of living together had we even seen one another with any kind of regularity. But still, I felt his loss keenly.
I missed Nate, too. It was horrible to think it, let alone say it out loud, but I missed him more than I had thought I would. There’d been a part of me that had expected more relief than grief, but the truth was, even above and beyond our lifelong friendship, I missed the relationship we’d built over the six months of our marriage. It had been sweet and poignant, and it had died when Nate had. There were still mornings when I opened my eyes, and my first thought was to turn my head to look at his profile, to check on his sleeping form in the hospital bed.
My phone chimed, and at the noise, my heart stuttered a little.Probably Mom, I scolded myself. I’d texted her earlier this morning, and she might be replying. I forced myself not to reach for the phone for a solid two minutes, breathing in and out, staring at the finial on the end of the curtain rod.
When I gave in and retrieved it, Leo’s name was on the screen.
Leo:I was just thinking about you. My mom told me you’d left, so I was waiting to hear about your safe arrival. Glad everything looks good so far.
It was measured and banal, just as mine to him had been. Impersonal. And maybe that was a sign of what we were going to be from now on: distant former friends, the kind of people who met up at parties or holidays, hugged each other and exclaimed over howlongit had been, promised to be better about keeping in touch and then didn’t think about the other person until the next time we met by accident.
Even as that depressing thought drifted over my mind, a second message came through.
Leo:Please send me pictures. I want to be able to imagine where you are. And text me whenever and lots. Like, obnoxious amounts. You could call, too, if you wanted.
Warmth spread through me, easing a little of the homesick blues. Leo wasn’t brushing me off. We weren’t going to turn into polite strangers.
But still, I wasn’t ready to risk a phone call yet. If I heard his voice, I just might give up and go running home. And as much as I was struggling right now, deep down I still knew that what I was doing was necessary.
Quinn:I’ll send you some pictures, I promise. Not sure I should try a phone call yet ... but maybe when I feel a little steadier here.
Leo:You got this. You’re the bravest person I know. I miss you, Mia, but I know this is right for you.
