LONG WALKS ON the beach were supposed to be cathartic. An escape from reality. Tranquility to drown out the tragedy. But with the bite of the unusually cold wind gnawing at my skin and a world of regret threatening to capsize me with every wave that rolled onto the shore, this was nothing short of agony.
The weight of losing him, losing everything, was too much to carry even one step further. Succumbing to defeat, I collapsed onto the sand and screamed into the nothingness. I had no words at first, just wails and cries of grief and frustration. But when the bitter assault of cold air was too much for my lungs to inhale, I curled up into a ball and wrapped my jacket around my trembling body, talking to myself.
I should lie here forever. Let it end this way. What’s the use in getting up anyway? I have nothing left to live for.
It seemed that way. I was practically penniless. My house was being seized. Hunter was gone. When I came home from working a ten hour shift at the salon last night, I discovered he’d emptied the house of all his belongings and just . . . left.
It’s what I wanted, but it still hurt like hell.
I couldn’t wrap my head around how this happened to us. How did I let it come to this? I should’ve known what he was doing. I should’ve saved us.
But I couldn’t do that alone. Marriage was a joint effort, and Hunter checked out the minute he placed that first bet. I didn’t want to place blame. I knew it was a culmination of many things, mistakes on both our parts, but he did this. He betrayed us.
“You were my fucking everything!” I shouted at the stars. “How could you do this to us?”
I would cry until there were no tears left. I wouldn’t stop until the sun came up, and even then, no one would find me here, not at this time of year. I had hours to wallow and nowhere to be. At least, that’s what I settled on until my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I thought about letting it go to voicemail. It was probably another bill collector anyway, but I’d have to face the music eventually. I had to get my head on straight.
I took a deep breath of cold air, reached into my jacket, and pulled it out to see who was calling. When his name flashed across the screen, a moment of much-needed peace washed over me. Of course Sam would call while I was planning my demise. He was good like that. A sixth sense. He was also the only bright light in my life at the moment, even if he was a world away.
“Hello,” I answered, sniffling back the remainder of my tears.
“Where the hell are you? Your mother called me like seven thousand times. Are you okay?” Sam was frantic. What else was new? But he wasn’t here, so that was his problem.
“I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head.”
“You’re at the beach, aren’t you? London! It’s late . . . and your mother said it’s cold. You’ll get sick.”
“Oh, who cares. That’s the least of my problems. I’m hoping a tsunami will hit New Bedford and make this all go away.”
“You’re kidding, right? I don’t have to worry about you doing anything to your—? London, I’m calling Allie. You’re making me nervous.”
“No!” I yelled, lifting up on my knees. “Don’t you dare!” I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I didn’t want anyone to see me this broken. I wasn’t ready to explain.
“Listen to me. You need to get in your car and go home. Now.”
“Home?” I laughed. “I don’t have a home.”
“You have at least thirty days before anything happens with the bank. It’s still your home.”
I brought myself to my feet in sloth-like motions. The wind had kicked up even more and Sam was right, it was too cold, I should go. I turned to the ocean one last time, silently praying for resolution, and then started up the hills of sand toward my car. “I can’t go back there. It’s like a fucking tomb. An empty, lonely reminder of him and all our failures.”
“London.” He sighed through the phone. “I know it feels like the end of the world, but I promise you’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.”
“Says the guy in China. I cannot believe you’re not here. I need you! You couldn’t have left at a worse time, and all for that geeky computer shit.”
“It’s not geeky. I’m the senior developer at one of the biggest software companies in the world. It’s actually very sexy. And I know it fucking sucks. I wish I could come back, but I just got here. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, babe. I would’ve never taken the transfer had I known this would happen.” I could imagine him raking his hands through his hair with worry. Long ago, he told me that as my best friend, it was his job to worry for me. He was so much more than a best friend—he was my rock. And if Sam weren’t more like a brother to me than my biological brother was, I would’ve snatched him up and made him mine. He wouldn’t have betrayed me like Hunter did. Then again, he wasn’t here when I needed him most.
“I wish you were here, asshole!” I cried, shutting the car door and starting the engine. I turned the heat up to the max and waited for the hunk of junk to get going.
“Please, London,” he rasped. “Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”
I wasn’t being fair. He’d never let me down before and this wasn’t his fault.
“I’m sorry I made you worry.” My breath came out in a cold cloud that fogged up the windshield. “I guess I should call my mom.”
“I think you should go there. She needs you, too.”
Leave it to Sam to give me a purpose. He was always looking out for me. I was a lucky lady, even if I didn’t feel like one right now.
“Will she make it go away?”
Sam’s sigh echoed in my ear. He always had the answers, but I sensed this problem was harder to solve than most. “Time heals all wounds, London. You have to give it time.”
Unfortunately, time was all I had. It was limitless but intangible. All I wanted was something to hold on to. All I wanted was for this pain to go away.
Two months later
My childhood bedroom in my mother’s Cape Cod was too small. Too compact to store the belongings I’d accumulated during my marriage, too tight to contain the thoughts and feelings that went along with its demise.
I stared blankly at the lavender walls that once lulled me to sleep, the shelves of dance trophies and stuffed animals that at one time told the story of who I was. Long gone were the graceful ballerina and the little girl who played tea party with Mr. Elephant and Teddy the Bear. Standing in her shoes was a sad, lonely woman who had marched unwillingly to this homecoming.
While I loved my hometown’s lingering scent of the sea and the way the rickety white-washed porch welcomed me with a creak, I did not want to be here. I didn’t want to admit defeat and move back home with Mom, but I also couldn’t afford a place of my own. And my mother needed me; her kidney disease was worsening. The doctors were talking about dialysis. There was no good time to prepare for the deterioration of your mother’s organs, but maybe it was fate—or irony—that had us needing each other at the same time. I could lend a hand around the house, take her to her doctors’ appointments, offer moral support. She could mend the boo-boos the way she always did, even if these needed much more than a Band-Aid and a kiss.
“London, baby, you all right in there?” Mom called out to me from behind the door.
I rolled my eyes, much like my former teenage-self, then stood from the bed and walked to the door. “It’s your house, Ma, you don’t need permission to come in.”
Ella Monroe was and always would be a stunning woman, even in the midst of ailing. She regarded me with gleaming blue eyes, creased with age and wisdom. “It’s your home now, too. It never stopped being your home. You know that.”
Of course I did. I was always welcome without notice, any time, day or night. In fact, my mother used to love when Hunter and I stopped in unexpectedly.
“Stay for dinner; I made enough just in case.”
She enjoyed the company because she spent far too much of her time alone. My father left long before I was old enough to create memories of him, and my brother became a permanent California-boy after falling in love with San Diego in college. Perhaps their absence was the reason she had such a strong bond with Hunter.
“What’s that look?” Mom asked, reaching out to hold my hand.
Silly me, I forgot she had the ability to read my emotions no matter how hard I tried to hide them. “I miss him,” I admitted. There was no reason to beat around the bush.
“Oh, baby.” She wrapped her loving arms around me and pulled me close. “I know. I know.”
I took comfort in her soft, dainty hands patting my back as she hugged me. She knew this feeling all too well, on a grander scale even. I had emulated my mother throughout my entire life, only I never wanted this portion of my life to mirror hers.
She pulled away, looked into my eyes, and swiped at the tear that trickled down my cheek. “Have you spoken to him at all?”
I shook my head, swallowing the onslaught of emotions. “There’s nothing left to say.” I shrugged. “It’s over. I can’t trust him anymore.”
Mom pursed her lips, her eyes watering as well, but quick as the sadness washed across her beautiful face, it was replaced with a bright, encouraging smile. “I can’t give you the kind of marriage advice you’re looking for because, well, my experience is lacking, but don’t give up hope, baby. The world works in mysterious ways.”
“Please don’t do that.” I spun away from her and went back to unpacking boxes.
“Do what?” She was at my side in an instant.
“Nothing, Mom.” I didn’t want to argue with her. She was more fragile lately and besides, she was only trying to help. She was being the mother I’d always been proud to call mine, but her proclivity for optimism wasn’t what I needed right now. Screw the bright side! I had no idea how she maintained that kind of outlook after all she’d been through, was still going through.
But she wouldn’t relent. “Don’t shut me out, London. This is what I’m here for. I hate that you’re hurting, but you don’t have to hurt alone.”
“I know that, Mom.” I huffed and closed my eyes. “Just . . . don’t go spreading that false hope crap around like some miracle is going to come along, make everything right and make this mess go away. The world doesn’t revolve solely on love and optimism!”
She stared back at me as I took a calming breath and then hung her head, pulling one of my folded shirts to her chest. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m sorry.” She was crying now.
“For what? This isn’t your fault. It’s just life. It-it happens.” My voice cracked as I tried to convince myself that I’d accepted what life doled out for me and Hunter. But it was impossible to accept it. I still loved him even after everything he did to us. I’d probably always love him, and now I had to live without him.
My throat constricted with the strain of containing my emotions, but I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears sprung free, sobs erupting in my chest. “Oh, Mommy. Why did this happen?”
“Come here, baby.”
We sat together on my bed in a tight embrace. It was littered with clothing and random items spilling out of boxes, a reminder of the reason I was here, the struggles we both faced. We cried, hard at first—there was so much to be sad about lately—but when the weeping turned into sniffles and we were done feeling sorry for ourselves, what mattered most was that she was here. That we had each other.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said, leaning over to kiss her soft cheek.
Her warm hands cradled my face. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”
I hoped to God, or whoever was listening, that she was right.