Page 64 of The Heartbreak Hotel
But still, Goldie’s words echo:You do this, Lou. You take care of other people to avoid taking care of yourself.
I think of Mei, of my mom, of Henry.
You do this.
Twenty-Six
Willa shows up later thatweek—Halloween—with five friends in tow. All of them are wearing black tiaras. She made the booking two weeks ago, with a note to confirm that all six of them could fit into my three available rooms. With the extra cot I ordered for the Lupine Room, the answer was yes. But I didn’t expect this: music blasting from their rental car, black tutus, black wigs.
“It’s an un-bachelorette,” Willa says when she greets me at the door. “Jamie broke off the engagement a month before we were supposed to go to Nashville.” She yanks a woman forward from the back of the pack, bracing both hands on her shoulders. “This is Lucy, our un-bride.” Lucy manages a smile and gives me a helpless shrug. “And I’m maid of dishonor.”
“Wow,” I say. I’m trying to place the feeling at seeing these six women on my doorstep, gathered around Lucy in her heartbreak. I’m flattered they chose the Comeback Inn. I’m moved they still went on a trip together. “Welcome.”
The house has a completely different feeling with theun-bachelorette crew upstairs: louder, more laughter, a significant boost in serotonin. Nan borrows one of their wigs and wears it proudly for the entire afternoon. Shani, on the last night of her stay, plays cards with them in the living room while Alfie snores on her lap.
And Henry doesn’t text me back. Not in response to theI’m sorry about that timing. Rain check?I sent right after Goldie left. Not in response to the picture I sent this afternoon of Alfie sitting on my coffee table with a black tutu wrapped around him. And not in response to thePlease talk to meI sent an hour ago, growing desperate, aching to see his name pop up on my phone. It’s nearly nine o’clock, the sun long lowered. I haven’t heard from him since Sunday.
“What’s going on over there, Lou?” Nan asks, catching my eyes across the living room. Willa and Lucy are snuggled on the couch, their other friends clustered on the floor around the coffee table. One of them is shuffling a deck of cards, another one refilling wineglasses.
“I’m good,” I say, pulling on a smile. I’m not good—I’m balancing on the knife’s edge of myself. Nan frowns at me, but the other women are talking so loudly she gets swept up in the tide of their conversation.
“Right,” Willa’s saying, “but the only thingworsethan canceling a wedding is being married to someone who doesn’t actually deserve you.”
“Well said,” Nan agrees, glancing back at me.
I clear my throat. “You’re right, Willa. Lucy, you dodged a bullet—even if it feels, right now, like you took it straight to the heart.”
Lucy gives me a watery smile, and one of her friends thrustsa wineglass into her hand. I think of Nate at twenty-three, fresh off his second album, asking me what kind of rings I like. The question had come out of nowhere, out of the darkness, past midnight with his body settled over mine. Sweaty, spent. I hadn’t even thought about marriage before then. My mother never married; Goldie would never marry; it had never mattered to me what Nate’s title was. He was just my Nate.
But something changed, after that conversation. A new expectation had been introduced into our relationship—that, eventually, there would be a leveling up. And so even as we grew apart, as all the things that made us good for each other fell away, I stayed. I stayed, Nate Payne’spurple girl, until I was blue in the face from holding my breath.
Henry has felt like an inhale. And sitting in his—my—living room, not knowing if I’ve ruined things between us, feels like choking.
I see movement in the garden, and my heart lurches into my throat. But it’s only Joss, her face hidden by a baseball cap, her hands wrapped around a hose. I leave my guests laughing around the card game and step outside for some fresh air.
“Hey, Lou,” Joss calls. “Sorry it’s so late. I had a crazy day but I need to give the new tree some water.”
“Thank you,” I say, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets. I lower onto the porch steps and hunch my shoulders against the cold. “I like it, by the way.”
It’s some kind of baby pine, very Dr.Seuss, lopsided and furry-looking.
Joss stops to look at it in the garden’s fairy lights, leaning on her rake. “Thanks,” she says. “Henry hates it.”
My chest tenses at his name, and I draw a deep breath thathurts my ribs. I wonder if that’s what they’ve been fighting about. Why Henry would give a shit about what tree Joss chose for the yard. “Why?”
She turns on the hose. “Not his style, I guess.” After a moment, still watering, she adds, “Something happen? I saw him leave in a hurry over the weekend.”
Fuck. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, wishing Mei were here. I should have called her instead of coming outside. “Oh, no,” I say. My voice sounds unconvincing, even to me. “He was just fixing something upstairs.”
Joss nods. “You okay?”
I push on my knees, standing from the step. “Yeah. Sorry, I just remembered I need to make a phone call.”
Joss shoots me an unsure smile and a wave. I’m dialing Mei before I’m even inside, passing the group in the living room and making for the stairs. She picks up just as I’m getting to my bedroom.
“Hey, Lou. You okay?”
Am I so terrible at hiding my emotions? I haven’t even spoken yet. But, I mean: “No.”
