Page 21 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

Quentin leans against the side of his car, entirely too smug. “Moreover?”

“Objection, your honor. The defendant is non-responsive.”

“Yes, there were some ulterior motives,” he says now. “But I, at least, was up front about it. Never at any point did you say, ‘Thanks so much for sweeping me off my feet and helping me fool my client’.”

I throw my purse into the passenger seat, slamming the door for emphasis.

“You did not sweep me off my feet.”

“I still didn’t hear a ‘thank you’ in there.”

“Hey asshole,” I say, more forcefully than I intend. “Thanks for showing up when I needed you.”

This comes out all wrong. I mean it to sound sarcastic. Instead, it lands like some sort of inconvenient truth.

Quentin’s playful smile falters for a moment, and in that breath his eyes are dancing across my face in a way that makes my stomach flip. I slide my sunglasses on, hoping he can’t see it, whatever it is. A moment of weakness. A moment of desperation. Another instance in which I’m potentially falling victim to horngry-ness.

The moment passes.

He recovers his crooked smile and gives me a resolute nod, climbing into his car.

“Anytime, PBG. Anytime.”

6.

The follower count on my social media accounts is climbing at an alarming rate, the same way the heat index does as the South slips further into June. It’s impossible to ignore. Those little red notification dots greet me every time I pick up my phone, to the point that I eventually remove the apps from my homescreen, but not before I spend way too much time scrolling through posts that give me the growing feeling that I don’t know myself. Or at least, that I don’t know the Heidi Krupp that the internet now associates with that sing-songy tagline.

The best part of breaking up is calling Heidi Krupp.

I feel like a reality TV villain, the kind of girl who will never “have it all” and is portrayed by some as the bitter, fairy-tale witch who prefers to curse those who do.

Meanwhile, others compare me to that best friend who helps you nurse a broken heart, the no-nonsense one who sticks with you at your lowest point, simultaneously feeding you tequila and ice cream while she dyes your hair a sassy shade of pink, helps you secure a great new apartment, and books movers. The one who shows you all the ways in which you’re going to be okay.

I prefer that second version, but even she is hard to recognize. It’s as if my online persona has taken on a life of her own, and I’m left lying in bed, scrolling through my phone, simultaneously wishing I could be that cool and also wishing that I was nothing like her at all.

I wasn’t always like this.

I think once, like most people, I believed I could pull off the hat trick. I was so sure I could have the place that feels like home, the well-paying career, and the guy who makes you laugh and pushes you to be better and somehow just gets you, all at the same time. Then life happened. Or rather, my parents’ divorce happened. I realized then what so many of us do eventually: that sometimes “having it all” means knowing that nobody has the power to take any of it away from you. Even if, sure, sometimes that also means you don’t have a special someone to share it with.

In the cool quiet of my luxurious bed, in my comfortably classy apartment, with a designer purse of case notes by the coffee table, I feel like my seven-year-old self would be proud to know where we ended up. I’m the divorce attorney I wish my parents had had, the one who doesn’t hang on billable hours and win records and doing whatever dirty, underhanded things it takes. The one who never, ever, puts kids on the stand or uses them as bargaining chips. The one who’s always pushing for compromise, for what’s right, regardless if it’s a pain in my ass. My thirty-two-year-old self, though? I’m not sure how she feels.

The backlight of my phone washes over me as my finger swipes up.

Practicality meets poise. We need more boss babes like Heidi Krupp!

I can’t believe a woman would represent scum like that. #Glasslighting

Why is everyone hating on her? If you don’t want a divorce don’t get one. The rest of us deserve to know our options.

What a shark. Smells blood and swoops in. It’s all about the $$$.

Why can the world never handle a strong woman? I’m team Heidi all the way!

This bitch needs to get laid.

Do your marriage a favor and get yourself Krupp ‘nup. That’s a prenuptial agreement for those who don’t know. This girl had our backs, not because she expected our marriage to fail but because she never wants anyone to stay together just because they’re scared of the fallout. We’re not together because it’s too inconvenient to get out of it. We’re together because we CHOOSE it everyday. And you know what? She sent us a great wedding gift. So much respect for HK. The best way to avoid disaster is to have a PLAN and hope you never have to use it.

Divorce is eroding the fabric of our country. People used to marry for life! It’s a shame you can make a career out of broken homes.

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