Yeah. It feels like that hell-crack I plummeted into has some wicked gravity.
After I got off the call with Kyle and left the bar, I lost the bar’s Wi-Fi signal and therefore the ability to make phone calls, but I could still see all the messages and missed calls that had piled up on my phone. I borrowed Sophie’s phone (which works just perfectly) to call everyone who deserved a call back, so they don’t have to worry about me.
Each call just made me feel progressively worse.
Mom’s super worried about me (“I wish you would just find a nice man and settle down, like Kim”) and doesn’t understand why I would “make a video like that” anyway. I had to explain to her that I didn’t make it, but yes, the dildo was real. I’m not sure that made it better.
My stepsister suddenly decided to tell me she “never liked Kyle” but hadn’t wanted to tell me while we were together and “make it worse,” because she was sympathetic to the fact that “not every woman has a man as wonderful as my husband.”
I know Kim reallymeantthat as sympathy, but I almost hurled Soph’s phone right into the sea after that one.
Kyle’s mom, who I probably shouldn’t have bothered calling back at all, told me how sorry she was that she could no longer invest in my business, and could I please return the wine glasses she loaned to me?
Of course I’d return her wine glasses. She made it sound like I was trying to steal them.
“Let’s call this whole thing what it is,” I say. “It’s an all-time low. I needsomethingto improve here. But it just keeps getting worse.” As if on some cosmic cue system, the overhead light in the kitchen flickers out.
Sophie and I blink at each other.
“See?”
“I will talk to June about that tomorrow,” she says. “And about the lodging situation, if you’re not happy.”
“It’s fine.” I look around, trying to see things through the rose-colored glasses my bestie perpetually wears. “It’s clean,” I relent. “And safe. The lock seems solid.”
“And the orchard is pretty,” she says, jumping on the optimism train, her specialty. “That Lee guy is nice. Hereallyliked your boobs.”
I groan.
“And there’s a gift basket in the kitchen.” She pulls me from the bedroom to the tiny kitchen/living room and plunks us down on the couch. She starts digging through the basket, unpacking. “I know you don’t want to be here. But let’s make the best of it?” She holds out a homemade-looking cookie.
I take it with a sigh. “The truth is, I don’t really want to go home, either. Orchard Cove is the rock and home is the hard place. And all I know is I feel unwelcome in both right now. Also, if I’ve learned anything today, it’s that seagulls are assholes.” One did actually shit on me while Soph and I were on the pier, having lunch we picked up at the little grocery store. Would’ve loved to have eaten a real, cooked meal at the bar and grill, but fuck that. “So, no, maybe I don’t want to be here.” I eat the cookie in one go. It’s stupidly delicious. “But the things Kyle said today, Soph ... I can’t help thinking he’s right. I’ve made a mess of my business and my life. Objectively, I’m a failure.”
“Sierra. My god. There is no objectivity in that man’s judgment. Or love. Someone who loves you doesn’t use the things that hurt you the most to intentionally hurt youmore.”
I know she’s right, because if anyone knows what true love is, it’s Sophie. Her husband adores her and treats her like his queen, his best friend, his partner in every way. And she’s not low-keyboasty about it like my stepsister is. Soph is incredibly qualified to coach me through the aftermath of this breakup.
I take another cookie and stuff my face.
“True facts. If it weren’t for you and Pete,” I tell her, “I’d have given up on the fantasy of ever having a successful relationship fucking years ago. The two of you give me hope, even when I’d like to drop-kick whatever hope for a happy ending I’m still naively holding onto into the nearest toilet and flush. I’d already be deep into my ‘she seems to be collecting an alarming number of cats’ phase without you.”
“Pfft. You’re allergic to cats,” Sophie says easily, blowing that off. As if I’m not one hundred percent serious.
“There are days when I truly think suffocating on cat dander would be better than living with a man.”
“But you’ve never actually lived with a man,” she points out, which is sadly true. “You can’t write off all future men based on a few bad apples from your past. I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again: Kyle put his family before you. He put his career before you. He put his precious house before you by refusing to move in together. He even put hisfemale best friendbefore you, on many occasions. A man who loves you won’t make you second-choice. And he certainly won’t make you tenth. That man put hiscarbefore you, Si. He put his freakinghairbefore you—”
“I see we’ve reached the ‘I told you so’ portion of the evening.”
Sophie blinks at me innocently. “Only because you asked for it. And here’s that cider you requested. Consider yourself punished.” She pops open a giant can of cider from the gift basket and puts it in my hand. “Now, tell me where it really hurts.”
I sigh. Leave it to Sophie to see right through all my anger and frustration—and “let’s get this shit done” attitude today as we set up the smoothie bar—to the truth.
That I’m fucking hurt.
“It’s just ...” I groan. “You know I don’t do well with rejection. Because Mommy picked the perfect, shiny stepsister over me, and Daddy picked an entirely new family over me. This whole thing just pokes a stick into my festering mommyanddaddy issues.”
“What whole thing, exactly?” Soph prods gently. “The breakup?”
