Heart on a Shoestring

by Marilyn Grey

  I stepped off the plane and walked down the terminal. Hands clenched, jaw tighter than a guitar string tuned by a five-year-old, I dialed her number and got no answer. She probably didn’t recognize the number. I left a message. Told her we needed to talk. Truth is, I was making sure she still lived in Los Angeles. Yes, after I already landed there. Stupid, but I’m good at being irrational. More than Miranda might think. Or hope. Maybe even more than she’d approve of. Yes, in fact. Definitely more than she’d approve of.

  I got myself a rental car and drove to her old place, knocked on the door, and seethed inside. Hate isn’t a word I use often, but I’d grown so cold toward Ashleigh that I’m pretty sure it’s the only word I applied to her. No, I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to hate anyone and that’s why I found myself standing on her doorstep as a ripped dude in boxers opened the door. He scanned me up and down. I couldn’t get passed his shaved and shiny pecs. What the?

  He stepped outside and peered around. “Can I help you?”

  “Does Ashleigh still live here?” I said.

  “Yes.” He sized me up again, like a butcher preparing the cow. “Who are you?”

  “Derek Rhodes.” I knew he wouldn’t recognize the name. “She home?”

  “No. She said she had to go take care of something work-related in Pennsylvania. She left this morning.”

  “In Pennsylvania?”

  “I don’t keep tabs on her, man.” He stepped inside. “I’m her brother, not her pimp.”

  Nice. “Right. Thanks.”

  He shut the door and I walked away, back to the car. Pennsylvania? Now what?

  Shawn.

  Ashleigh went to Pennsylvania because of me. Shawn must’ve told her that he saw me at the diner. Great. What a waste of three hundred bucks.

  I drove off and headed toward the beach. Reminded me of the time Ash and I flew to the East Coast to watch the sunrise over the Atlantic, then flew back home in time to see it set over the Pacific. Back when life was about fun and stupidity.

  And not a lick more.

  I landed in Virginia, got a rental car, and drove home. Time to move out of my apartment and plan for a place in The City of Love, as Miranda called it.

  By the time I parked in front of my humble abode, the clock in the car said 8:28am. I rubbed my eyes, opened the front door, and walked up the stairs, down the hall, and saw her, slumped in front of my door, sleeping with her head on her designer hand bag. Long, blonde hair pulled back with that poofy top girls do. Reminded me of a poodle. Not a fan. I stood in front of her. She didn’t budge. Her slender, flawless legs stuck out of her extremely short black dress like toothpicks. Her dress seemed more like a long shirt. A skintight long shirt.

  Her eyes were closed, but I could still see the heavy eye makeup, as if the bright red lips and rosy cheeks weren’t enough. Miranda wore a lot of makeup too, even blue and orange eye stuff, but something about it seemed more natural. Or maybe it was just Miranda.

  She rustled and lifted her head. I offered her a hand. Half of me wanting to rip it off her arm, but it was time to be honest with myself. And her.

  “How did you find me?” I said.

  She stood in front of me and bent over to pick her scarlet red shoes off the ground. “Shawn said you were in Philly. So I went there. Then I got your call and it was a Virginia number. I was about to come home, but my brother called and said some guy named Derek Rhodes stopped by. I figured you would’ve changed your name after all that happened, so I looked up an address for Derek Rhodes in Virginia. There were only two. The first one wasn’t you. So here I am.”

  I twisted the keys in the lock. “Surprised you figured all that out.”

  “I’m not as stupid as you think, David. Remember all the tests you cheated off of in college? That was me, you know.”

  “Book smarts are different than street smarts.” I swung my arm toward the doorway. “Come in. We need to talk.”

  She stood next to the door as I closed it. Awkward silence.

  “Want to sit?” I said.

  A knock on the door. I turned and opened. Miranda panted, out of breath. “Derek, we need to talk. I’m sorry a thousand times. I realized you’re right and I do love you. I wa—”

  Ashleigh stepped into Miranda’s view. Smirking. I shook my head and grabbed Miranda’s hand. “It’s not what you think. Come inside, please. I want you to hear what I need to say.”

  Miranda’s eyes watered. “You have a prostitute here? I never would’ve thought.”

  “Ugh!” Ashleigh shrieked. “I am not a prostitute.”

  “Miranda, I can explain. I need to explain. Please.” But before I could finish my sentence she was down the steps.

  Ashleigh laughed and rolled her eyes. “You gave me up for that?”

  “I didn’t give you up. The breakup was mutual and it was a good decision. Wait here.” I ran down the steps and out the door. Miranda’s car sped out of site, but I ran and caught up with her at the red light. She stared ahead, avoiding my eyes. I banged on the window, pleading her to open it and hear me out. Finally, the window cracked and she whispered through tears, “This is why I don’t give my heart away.”

  The light turned green.

  And she left.

  Ashleigh fidgeted on my couch. I wanted to kick her out, but not until I said what I needed to say.

  She pulled a mirror out of her bag, smeared more lipstick on her lips, and pouted at her reflection. “Know why I’m here, David?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t really care, but I have something I need to say.”

  She batted her fake lashes. “Sure you don’t want another fling before I leave?”

  I stood so fast the blood rushed to my head. She crossed her legs, revealing more of her thighs. Boiling, I knelt down and flipped the coffee table, shattering glass all over the wood floor. She rolled her eyes and pouted in the mirror again. That’s it. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Are you ever going to learn?” I yelled. Loud. From a deep place in the heart of a man that can only come out when every single button is pushed. And they were pushed. My circuits were fried. “I came after you not because I want you. Not because I ever wanted you. The only reason we even had what we had was because I was lost and you were pushy. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. Don’t even know what the hell it was, but it was the worst time of my life and the only reason I wanted to talk to you was to tell you I was sorry. That I take the blame for what happened. I’m not saying this for you. I’m saying it for the girl who stole my heart. And after all that we’ve been through you want to flick your legs around and invite me into the place that’s caused you so many issues so many times before? You haven’t learned a thing. After everything, you still refuse to become a nice person.” I picked up her hand bag and dropped it on her lap. “This ridiculous stuff that you waste your money on won’t be going with you to the grave. It’ll be taken to the nearest poor box and someone will sell it to make a little money. Such a waste of life.”

  “Don’t be such an ass, David. I came here to give you something.” She handed me a box and for the first time since I had known her she shed a tear. “I want you to have this and I want you to know something ... I haven’t forgotten. Not a day passes. I named him after you.” She walked to the door and wiped her face. “Maybe I’m still prissy and can’t figure out how to be anyone other than who I am, maybe I’m a lot of things, but you don’t know what I feel every day of my life. You aren’t inside of me. I’m not as horrible as you like to think. That day changed my life. I still can’t figure out if it’s for better or worse, but it definitely changed me.” One foot out the door, she turned. “And please, stop pretending to be such an asshole. You never fooled anyone.”

  She closed the door behind her. I sat on the couch, staring at the glass on the floor and the box in my hand, wincing.

  It was small. Nowhere near heavy. And it rattled when I shook it.

  I tried to open it, but stopped myself.

 
; Ch. 21 | Miranda

  The thing that really upset me . . . it wasn’t the skimpy girl in his apartment or the look on his face when I caught him. And I appreciated his sprint to the red light, I really did. But he gave up. So easily. I sped off. He walked back to his house. Didn’t get in his car. Didn’t pick up his phone. No texts or calls. Maybe he had a good reason, but these are the things that made me want to retreat. Back to the place of fleeting romance and fugitive dreams. The place where my heart sat crammed away and out of reach. The place where I controlled how and when I felt pain.

  Is that even healthy?

  I needed ice cream. And cake. And brownies. And a root beer float. So I made them. Ella called when I sat down on my couch with my delightful collection of sugars. I didn’t answer. She texted instead. Miranda, hope all is well. Quick invite: Sarah is coming home in three weeks. Having a welcome back party at our house. Small and intimate. August 14 at 2pm. Bring my brother. I can’t get ahold of him.

  I responded. Where at?

  Ella: Our house. Tylissa is moving in with family down south. Sarah is going to take one of the spare rooms for now. Just till her and James get married.

  Me: Okay. I will be there. Not sure about your bro. We are in a rough spot.

  Ella: What happened?

  Me: I poured my heart out as Barbie stepped into view.

  Ella: What’s that mean?

  Me: Nothing. No worries. I’m good. It will be okay.

  Ella: I know he loves you. He has never been one to talk about it, but I can see it in his eyes.

  Me: You see hearts in skulls and bones.

  Ella: Love you, Miranda. :)

  She did love me. That I knew. Hard to imagine Ella doing anything less than loving. Her brother on the other hand? Yeah, not so sure about such things.

  I stuffed my face with enough saturated fat to choke an army, then watched a romance movie for kicks. Is it just me or does everyone like to dwell in their heartbreak a little? Only seems fair. A broken heart deserves as much attention as a whole heart, maybe even more. A little sympathy, a dash of pity, a quarter cup of tears, a third of chick flicks, four cups of sugar, a good night of sleep, and the heart would be good as new.

  A girl can dream, right?

  Oliver insisted on picking me up for our date. I prettied myself up. Curled my hair, put on some natural brown eye shadow, peach blush, and sheer lipstick. After rummaging through my new wardrobe a thousand and three times I settled on a simple navy blue A-line dress with a flowing skirt. Soft, dainty, and somewhat 1950s. Right before leaving I slipped on a pair of two-inch white sandals and wrapped a white scarf around my head so it accented my hair and flowed down my back.

  Oliver rang the door. I buzzed him in and met him downstairs. His jaw dropped when I reached the end of the stairs. I held the railing, stood there, smiling and admiring his midnight blue eyes. He remained speechless. I let go of the railing and stood in front of him. “You look older.” I touched his jaw. “Facial hair?”

  “And you aren’t a girl anymore.” His British accent weakened everything in me.

  “Ten years does that to a person. Although I’m starting to relate to that Britney Spears song where she claims she’s not a girl, but not yet a woman.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re definitely a woman.”

  We drove to a nice restaurant, his choice, and the waitress led us to a table outside by a water fountain and a nice garden. Reminded me of Derek.

  We ordered. I didn’t overwhelm him by ordering too much. Kept it simple. The food came during our light catch up conversation about school, dumb stuff, and Max’s recent ordeal.

  We talked and laughed our way through dinner and finally set our forks on our empty plates. He stared across the table at me. I stared back. We leaned into each other, ordered desert, and twisted the conversation knob to a deeper level.

  “Do you think we can be together?” he said. “Because ... I don’t know. I think, perhaps, I mean, I don’t know, but I think perhaps I love you even more than I did that first day.”

  I smiled. Normally I’d soak it up, flirt back, oogle ogle and lovey dovey grovel, but I couldn’t muster it up this time. So I smiled. Just smiled.

  “I don’t mean to. It wasn’t my intention. I don’t want to seem strange.” He smoothed the napkin over his plate. “It’s just I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Oliver, dear.” I shook my head. “You barely know me.”

  “You can’t deny what we have.”

  I laughed. “Please enlighten me. What exactly do we have?”

  “Well, you know.”

  “Are you lonely?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Okay, you are gorgeous. No doubt about that. You’re sweet. You’re funny, from what I know at least. But these things are all a dime a dozen. In fact, there are plenty of amazing fish in the sea and at first glance they all seem the same, but they’re not.”

  He tilted his head. “What makes them different?”

  “Science.”

  “Science?”

  “That which repels also attracts. Like a magnetic force.” I smiled. “I’m afraid, without my consent, my heart has been stolen. I’m still in shock myself. It’s rather alarming, actually. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand how this happened, but I think I’m going to allow it to be what it is. I’m really sorry. You are wonderful and something tells me I might regret this, but the truth is my heart is somewhere else and until I get it back, if I do, I’m quite simply not the girl for you.”

  “You mean woman.”

  “Sure.” I laughed. “Woman.”

  My phone buzzed. Derek called. Left a voicemail. Interesting timing.

  Oliver took me home. I kissed him on the cheek, wished him luck, and walked to my favorite city bench. The one on the brick sidewalk under the trees. Their branches reached across the road, entwined in a loose embrace. A canopy of bark over the quiet street. Electric candles lit the windows across the street as a child pulled the curtains until Mama Bear lifted her up with one hand and disappeared behind the fabric. Life. That’s why I sat on park benches. In bad times, it helped me realize things weren’t so bad. In good times, it helped me appreciate them even more. I’d sit there for hours sometimes, watching life around me, realizing that there’s so much more to this life than me.

  The July heat, albeit nighttime, suffocated me. My shirt was already sticking to my chest. I pulled it away, blew air on my skin, and reclined on the bench, staring at the stars through the tree branches.

  After a few minutes, I listened to my voicemail. “Miranda, it was just Ashleigh. I didn’t even kiss her hand, much less anything else. Almost ripped her hair right out of her head, but that’s another story. And no, I’m not serious. You know I wouldn’t do that for real. Anyway, there’s some stuff I need to tell you. It’s time. I’m ready. Call me back, please.”

  I wasn’t ready to call. Yet. So I sent a quick text. Meet me at my parents house next Saturday. Having the family over to spend time with Max. We can talk after. Until then, I need some time to think.

  He responded. Why their house? I want to talk first.

  Me: Because. I want to stare at you across the room and see if I can stand being in the same room with you and not touching or talking. If the magnets attract, we can talk. If they repel, let’s walk away and forget it ever happened.

  Derek: I’ll never forget you, Lizzy.

  Me: Coming?

  Derek: Ok.

  “It’s just a little gathering for my family,” I said to myself as I stared at my small wardrobe. Maybe he would like me dressed like Barbie, I thought, but didn’t own anything of the sort and I’m not sure I wanted to. What would he find most pretty?

  I tried on different outfits and settled with the most normal thing I owned. A pair of skinny jeans and a black t-shirt. I didn’t straighten my hair or curl it, which meant it looked a little frizzy with a slight wave. And low and behold, the biggest shock of all, no makeup. Not even
lip gloss.

  I blinked at myself in the full length mirror that hung on my closet door. Kinda liked being normal. It seemed so . . . normal. So ... real. He always said he liked a woman at rest. Well, I guess this would be Miranda at rest.

  My pink converse shoes, laceless, stood out to me. I put them on and decided to surprise Derek with a gift.

  I grabbed some paper, cut out a heart, and in my neatest, fanciest handwriting I wrote him a note. My Gift to You. Then I drove to Walgreens, got a red shoe string, and sat in my car stringing it through the pink heart. “There.” I held it up against the sun. “Perfect.”

  I placed it into the pocket of my purse and drove away. When I arrived at the house Matt greeted me at the door. I looked around for Derek and my pulse picked up. He wasn’t there yet.

  I gave Lydia a hug and she handed me my little nephew. So adorable. I pressed his cheek against mine and kissed his tiny fingers, then handed him back to his mama. “How old is he now?”

  She plopped him back into her wrap. “Almost three months.” His fingers curled around hers. “He is growing so fast. I already want a newborn again.”

  I laughed. “Wow. I guess labor wasn’t that bad, huh?”

  “It was. But it was also worth it.” She moved the living room curtains and peeked out the window. “Oh, look. That’s so cute.”

  I glanced out to the front lawn as Mom walked over to me. She hurried back to Max in the dining room and took his hand. “Look, Max. It’s Steve from Blue’s Clues.”

  Max’s favorite. Steve jogged down the path with a small Blue’s Clue’s stuffed animal under his right arm and giant salt and pepper shakers under his left arm. He knocked on the door, but Max was already opening it, jumping up and down, and squealing with glee.

  Matt looked at me and smiled. “How much did you pay him to do this?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Me? I didn’t pay for it.”

  Steve walked in. Our eyes met. My smile pulled my face apart and I couldn’t help but laugh. Bent over in hysterics, I nearly collapsed on the floor. Steve put one hand on Max’s shoulder. “Now, we gotta find the first paw print. You know what to do. Let’s put on our thinking caps and think, think, think.” He put a birthday hat on Max’s head and surprisingly Max kept it on.