Page 4 of The Heartbreak Hotel
The truth is, this house is the first place that’s ever beenmine. It took me years to realize that the nomadic lifestyle I grew up with wasn’t typical—that my friends from school didn’t have their pack-it-up routine down to a science; that they couldn’t fit their entire lives into a single, broken-zippered suitcase. Aside from an eighteen-month stint with one of my mother’s longer-lasting boyfriends, we never stayed anywhere for more than a few months.
It wasn’t until I left for college that I called one address home for longer than it took for me to memorize it. And even then, I had a different dorm—a different apartment—every school year. This house is the only place where I’ve ever let myself exhale, let my guard down enough to actually think of somewhere as a placeIbelong. To get rid of the suitcase.
The thought of losing the house—its rooms shimmering with light cut by dancing aspen leaves, its familiar sounds, every inch of it curated to be my own idea of home—feels like vertigo. Like the world won’t be right side up if I don’t live here anymore.
“Mei,” I say now. “I love you, but the only move that could keep me here is winning the lottery.”
“What if I move in? And we split it?”
“Stop.” I sniff inelegantly and shove a peach slice into my mouth. “You’re too pure for this world.”
“I’m serious.” She waves one arm around the kitchen. So much of my life, of my friendship with her, has happened in this room—leaned toward each other over opposite ends of the granite island, sipping wine as we wait for water to boil; Scotch-tapingstring lights to the tops of the green cabinets at Christmastime; slicing peaches as my world falls out from beneath me. “This place is amazing. Obviously I would love to live here.”
I shake my head. “We’re over an hour from your officeandAndy.”
“Andy loves the mountains,” Mei says. She points through the screen door, where Longs Peak is emerging from behind a cloud. “They’ll visit all the time.”
“No.” Mei met Andy at a bar last spring, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. The healthiest relationship I’ve ever seen her in, and not one I’m going to let her sabotage just because mine has shredded itself like food scraps through a garbage disposal. Besides…“I can’t even afford half the rent here, so it’s moot.”
“Morning.” The screen door thwacks open, mewling on its hinges, and Joss pokes her head into the kitchen. Joss looks like an Icelandic milk maiden: white-blond, blue-eyed, with sinewy arms from lifting heavy planters and bundles of tree roots all year long. She frowns at the door. “God, it’s still making that noise? Can’t you get Henry to fix it?”
Henry—a name I barely recognize; the landlord I’ve never met. Asking Henry to silence the screen door would’ve fallen firmly intoNateterritory.
“I like it,” I tell her, my voice thick. The sound of the door and all of the house’s sounds are strung together like a soundtrack to my life. It’s reassuring to open the door, and step onto the porch, and hear the same squeaked greeting every time.
I swipe roughly at my cheeks, and Joss realizes that something’s wrong. I clear my throat and sit up straighter, but it’s too late.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I’m interrupting.”
“No, no.” I flap my hands uselessly. “We’re just, um—we’re just—”
“Lou and Nate broke up.”
I look at Mei. It’s not that Iwouldn’thave told Joss—we’re friends, in all the ways that matter. But hearing her say it out loud makes it feel real all over again, not to mention makes it seem like Nate’s the reason I’m crying over stone fruit, when in reality it’s the thought of my entire life crumbling apart.
“Oh, Lou,” Joss says. Her eyebrows draw together, mouth turning down at the corners. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“We hate him now,” Mei says, turning to Joss. She has a peach slice in one hand. “Just to be clear.”
Joss puts a hand over her heart. “I’ve always been Team Lou.” She nods her head at the empty seat across the table from Mei and me. “Can I sit?”
“Of course,” I say, kicking out the chair with my foot. She steps inside and the door whines shut behind her. “Have some peach.”
“Don’t pawn it off on Joss,” Mei says. She glances at Joss as she sits down. “Lou’s not eating.”
“I’meating.” I pick up another slice for emphasis. “But the thought of losing this house does not whet my appetite.”
“Don’t tell me you’re moving out,” Joss says, pulling off her gardening gloves. “Is Nate staying? He’s never even here.”
“No,” Mei says emphatically. “Nate’s moving out, and Lou’s staying, and we’re going to figure it out.”
“Maybe,” I groan, slumping into the chair until my socked foot collides with Joss’s under the table. “Sorry. I just don’t see how Icanstay.”
“Because rent?” Joss asks. She takes a bite of peach and swipes juice from her lips with the back of one wrist.
“Because rent,” I confirm. “The landlord makes a killing on this place, and I do not have one single killing to my name.”
“I offered to move in,” Mei tells Joss. “But she won’t—”
