"I'm sorry," I say.
"You're awful," she says. Tears streak down her face. She stands up from the couch and beelines for the apartment door.
"Where are you going?" I call after her.
"To be by myself," she says. She leaves, slamming the door behind her.
Fuck. In one day, she went from having a booming business and living her dream, to facing the loss of that dream. And of course I just piled more shit on top, like I seem to be best at.
I pace around the apartment, hands on my sides.
Fuck it. I'm doing more harm than good by being here. She'll eventually get shit figured out with the shop, even if it takes lawyers. And Jason knows how to keep the place going.
All my stuff is still packed and ready to go for Alaska, save the sleeping bag and a few clothes in the hamper. I gather up all my stuff and finish packing my bags. I toss my apartment key on the table and I write a note.
I, Hunter Thorne, consent to the annulment of my marriage to Tess Cassidy. Please send all forms requiring notarization to the following address.
Underneath the note, I write the address of Eddie's restaurant. He'll get me whatever I need.
I'm out. For good this time. It's going to fucking hurt me, and I know it's going to hurt Tess, but it's for the best.
On my way out, I flip off the lights in her apartment. For the last time.
17
Tess
"Meg, my life is such a dumpster fire right now," I say. We sit at the bar counter in her beautiful kitchen. A big, fat vanilla cake sits on the counter between the two of us, and we pick at either side of it with our forks. There's no better way to get over bad news than to drown your sorrows in a whole entire cake from Wal-Mart.
"Tess," she says, shaking my arm, "This is just a roadblock. Things happen. You have to pave your own road on the way to greatness. If the road was already paved, everyone would be able to travel on it."
I shovel another bite into my mouth, straight from the edge of the cake, and this one is almost all frosting. My stomach churns with anxiety and sugar is about the only thing I think I can keep down right now. "But what about Hunter?"
"What about him?"
"It's not just the café that's on the rocks. He is, too."
"I thought this was a fake marriage?"
"You know what happened between us in high school. It was stupid of me to think I could get involved without getting hurt again."
Meg reaches over to the stroller sitting behind her, and she checks on her baby. I'm still getting used to that. I remember how things were when we were both single at Springville Tech. Things change, that's for sure.
"Doll, from what you've told me, it sounds like the guy really cares about you. But he's dealing with his own shit, you know?"
"If by 'dealing with his own shit' you mean abandoning me again."
"Listen, Tess. You need to sit down and have a real conversation with him. Guys are absolutely horrible at understanding their own feelings. Sit down with him, tell him how you feel, and tell him what you won't compromise on. Take it one step at a time. That's all you can do."
"I guess you're right," I say. Sometimes I wish I hadn't ever met Hunter at all. He's caused me so much pain and consternation throughout my life.
But on the other hand, if I hadn't met him, maybe I still wouldn't know what true love really is. I guess you can't know true love if you aren't willing to put your own heart on the line.
"I know I'm right," she says with a wink. "But I totally saw this coming."
"What do you mean, us breaking up again?"
She looks surprised. "No, silly. You two getting together again. It was so obvious that you two were still into each other. A fake marriage, sure." She laughs. "I believed that for about two seconds."
I stab at the cake again. I'm feeling particularly stabby right now. "We're just good at pretending. And hiding our true feelings, apparently."
"I don't buy it," she says. "Do what I told you. Have a talk with that man. He needs you as much as you need him. You know me. I can tell these things."
Meg always was good at reading people.
When I step into my apartment, it's dark inside. I feel around for the light switch and flip it on. "Hunter?" I call out.
No response.
I look around the room. There's no sign of Hunter's stuff. All the sheets are gone from the floor. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Then I see a piece of paper on the kitchen table. I cross the room and pick it up.
I read it and my stomach drops.
The next couple days pass in a blur. I keep calling and texting Hunter, but he doesn't reply. I contact a lawyer about my restaurant situation, and the news he gives me isn't good. Yes, I can eventually beat the city in court, but it'll be expensive and time-consuming. And in the meantime, there's no way to get the doors open again.
A week passes without any communication from Hunter. And the lawyer fails to come up with any faster and cheaper method of getting the shop open. I request another meeting with the mayor, but his secretary screens all my calls. I can't believe this is happening.
I never thought a mayor of a small town could be so indifferent—no, downright cruel—to the people he's supposed to represent. At the next town hall meeting, I'm going to make my case in front of the whole town. We shouldn't have to put up with a leader like Mayor Wilkinson. But who knows if the shop will be able to recover.
Since there's no prospect of opening the café any time soon, I head down one morning with a couple huge rolls of brown paper and a roll of duct tape. I cover the windows over and climb up on a ladder to cover the neon sign with a tarp. The brand-new neon sign that I paid $8,000 for and was so in love with.
Eddie and Oscar come out of their shops while I'm out front, just finishing up covering the windows. "Hey guys," I say. All the excitement is gone from my voice. I feel like an idiot for getting my hopes up about Hunter and about the shop. I can't help wondering if these two knew that I was just a piece of ass, a conquest, to Hunter.
"What's going on?" asks Oscar.
I fill him in on the situation. I leave out the fake marriage part.
"That's fucked up," he says. "Closed, for good?"
"I don't know what to do," I say. "For now at least. I can't afford to fight the city in court. And now I'm going to be stuck with all these business loans."
"Go to the media," says Eddie. "Get Hunter to help you. Where is he, anyway?"
I shake my head. "You really don't know?"
Both men look at me blankly.
"He left."
"Why would he do that?" says Eddie. "When's he coming back?"
I study his face hard. "You didn't know anything about that?"
"About what?"
Well, I guess it feels good to know I wasn't the butt of some group joke. I'm honestly surprised that Hunter didn't tell his best friends the true story about what was going on.
"We're… getting a divorce," I say. That's the truth, right?
"What the hell?" says Eddie. "Fucking marriage ruins everything!"
"You serious?" says Oscar. The men exchange glances.
I take a deep breath. I'm done crying over this. I'm done crying over Hunter. I've done enough of that over the years and I refuse to do it one more time, much less in front of Eddie and Oscar.
"I wouldn't joke about this."
"Damn, man," says Oscar, giving Eddie a bewildered look. "Didn't see this coming."
"You alright?" says Eddie. "That's uh, real rough. Especially after your last marriage."
They must think I'm a real idiot for getting into another "marriage" so soon, that ended so quickly. "I'm fine."
Eddie shakes his head. "I'm gonna beat that motherfucker senseless the next time I see him."
"Who knows when that'll be," I say. "He's gone completely radio silent."
"Sorry," says Oscar.
After I finish covering up the shop, I call Jason. I fill him in, thank him for all the work he did for
us, and I let him go. He takes it well, but he's bummed out. Apparently he dated that girl Crystal for a while, but they're not talking now.
I don't call Hunter back again, even though every time my cell phone buzzes, I hope it's him. I keep hoping he'll call, say he changed his mind, and that he wants to stay here in Maple Ridge with me. I want to kiss him again, want to let him inside me, because it feels so good and so right. But it doesn't happen. He's gone for good.
News spreads fast about the café shutting down. A sour mood pervades the town, and I hear more griping about the mayor than I have in the last five years combined. Both Eddie and Oscar were getting extra business thanks to their close proximity to the café, and their businesses have been in a slump since my shop shut down. I feel like crap about it. I thought it was a chance to live my dream, and maybe even a chance to breathe life back into the crusty old Maple Ridge economy. A chance to maybe save this town from becoming a washed-up old hick den ten years down the line.
As for Hunter, I decide to let go. For good this time. This is twice he's broken my heart and I won't let it happen a third time.
I don't know how I'm going to move on, and I don't know how I'm going to pay off my debts. But I know that if I succeeded once, I can do it again.
And it starts by getting the hell out of Maple Ridge.
18
Hunter
"So where did you come from? They don't have guys like you around here."
The blonde bimbo sitting next to me at the hotel bar keeps rattling in my ear. I'm at a shitty Days Inn by the airport in Arkansas, mingling with a crowd I'd rather not be involved with. Soft, cheesy music plays in the background, and a few traveling-businessman types in suits sit around the bar area here by the hotel restaurant. One or two of them have a woman at their table, but most of the women in the bar keep stealing glances at me.
But I didn't come here to get attention from women. The opposite, actually. In a shithole like this, I thought I could get away for a while and not have to deal with anyone's shit. No such luck, though.
"Where I'm from isn't important, it's where I'm going, and I'm getting the fuck out of here."
"You ride a bike?" She spots my helmet, sitting at the feet of the barstool. "Got room for another?"
I side-eye her. "Absolutely not."
"You don't want a beautiful woman riding bitch with you? What are you, gay?"
I shake my head. "Yeah. That's it. I'm completely gay." I just put down the rest of my gin and tonic, and completely tune her out.
I'm not even interested in hooking up with this chick. Or any chick, for that matter. The only chick I can think about right now is Tess. I can't stop thinking about how her body felt pressed against mine, how she felt when I slipped inside her, and what she's doing right now. She blows my fucking mind, but I'm no good for her. I don't have what it takes to be in a committed relationship. She's fucking right. I do let her down when it counts the most. Saving a dumb fucking puppy from a storm drain isn't an excuse to leave her high and dry. I'm just completely dysfunctional.
The bartender brings me another gin and tonic and I go to work on it. At some point the blonde gets the message and leaves me the fuck alone. Just me by myself. The way I fucking like it, and the way it should have been all along. I should never have stopped by Maple Ridge. No good could have come of it, and it didn't.
My crappy-ass old flip phone buzzes, and I yank it out of my jeans pocket. The outside screen says it's a text message from Eddie, and I groan. Not because it's Eddie, but because I can't fucking type a reply on this tiny piece of shit to save my life.
What the fuck are you doing man? says the message.
Another message comes through. The cafe is shutting down. You skipped out on your brand new marriage. Fuck is wrong with you? Marriage is a commitment, as much of a piece of shit as it is.
I grimace and slam the phone shut, then chuck it into my helmet on the floor. I don't need any more grief over this.
Last call rings out, but I don't bother. I gather up my helmet and riding jacket and head straight for my room. This Days Inn is the grungiest-ass hotel I've ever been to. I feel like settling down into the tub for a long bath, but I run a finger over the porcelain surface and feel all kinds of crusty particles hanging on. Fucking nasty. Trying to clean myself in this dump will probably only make me dirtier.
Instead of just grabbing a shower, I rip the comforter off the bed and chuck it in the corner of the room. Pretty fucking sure that's what everyone does with this thing. Everybody knows that hotels don't wash their comforters.
My sleep is all twisting and turning and nightmares.
In the morning, I feel like absolute shit. Should have fucking drank some water. I squeeze my temples hard, then fish around on the nightstand for my phone. The battery fucking died overnight, so I have to haul my tired, aching ass out of bed to plug it in to the wall charger. When I do, it automatically turns on and starts blowing up with missed voicemails and text messages.
They're from Oscar, Eddie, Tess's friend Meg, Jason, and a whole bunch of other numbers I don't even recognize. The common theme is: you fucked up, Hunter. But the one that really gets to me is the last message from Eddie. It reads: If you really do this, don't come back again. You won't be welcome.
My jaw twitches at the message. Everybody in the damn town thinks I broke Tess's heart, like this was a real marriage. And shit, that's what they think it was. And they all hold me responsible for the café permanently closing its doors barely a month into operation.
Maybe it is my own fault. I'm sure as hell not a perfect man. It's just the wrong time.
I down a cup of water from the hotel sink and it tastes like fucking shit. I scrub myself clean as best I can with a wet washcloth, and then I ditch this fucking joint.
I hit the road on my hog, heading west on I-40. It's hot out on the blacktop today, and the heat comes off the road in waves as I ride. The heat usually clears my head and lets me think straight, but right now I'm all screwed up. By eleven in the morning, I'm drenched in my own cold hangover sweat, and I have to pull off at a rest stop to refuel and grab a damn bite to eat from a vending machine.
I sit on a concrete table at the rest stop, letting my bike cool off. I chew on a protein bar. My phone sits quiet in my pocket. Looks like the town gave up on me responding. I run my thumb over the contour of my phone.
It's not too late to go back. I mean, shit, it might be too late for me and Tess. She hasn't contacted me in days, and if I were a betting man, I'd bet she's damn tired of me by now.
But I could at least go make things right with the rest of the town. I hate to see that asshole Wilkinson get away with this. He does it to Oscar, he does it to Tess, and he's going to do it to other people in the future. Maple Ridge won't amount to anything as long as that bastard is mayor.
Fine. I decide to fucking turn around and go back. Maybe this can be the last good deed I do. I'll help Tess get her shop open if she wants to have anything to do with me. I'll patch things up with my old buddies, and I'll leave on good terms instead of like this. Even if it means everybody thinks I'm a fucking asshole, at least I can try to make my final act a good one.
Then I'm getting my ass to Alaska. For real.
19
Tess
Inside the now-defunct Rainbow Café, I box up everything I can. The cash register, the espresso machine, the flatware and silverware. The only light in here shines down from the overhead fixtures. The brown paper over the windows blocks out all the natural light.
What was briefly an open, bright, social space now feels like a tomb. It's certainly where my dreams have gone to die.
Every time I bend over to pack up a box, the sheet of paper in my back pocket crinkles, a reminder of what else I lost. Hunter. It's the note he left on my kitchen table, saying he consents to annul the marriage. I barely recovered from my first divorce with Roger, and now I have to face another one. I haven't had the heart to go down to the courthouse and start the p
rocess. I haven't even told Meg about it yet. Everybody's going to think I'm so foolish for putting myself in the exact same situation. I guess I just don't learn.
Then my phone vibrates on the counter. It dings once, indicating a new text message.
I leave the box I'm working on and grab it off the counter.
It's a text from Hunter.
I'm heading back. We need to talk.
For a minute I think about calling him and just ripping into him. I barely slept for two days straight after he left. It was like re-living eight years ago all over again.
And now he thinks he can just reverse his decision and come back? Pick up where he left off?
Instead, I text him back, There's nothing further to talk about.
I return to my boxes and spend the next few hours packing. A reply never comes.
It's a total pig-out. I twirl my spoon around in a pint of Ben & Jerry's rocky road ice cream, and a package of cookie dough lays on the counter between us. Meg and I are going full piggy tonight. Her husband finally took a break from his workshop downstairs, and he took the baby out to dinner at a friend's house. Tonight, it's just me and Meg, like the old times in college.
"So when are you leaving?" asks Meg.
I sigh in resignation. "It's going to take at least a month to get the shop cleaned out. All the new equipment's going up for auction to pay down my debt."
"And then?"
"And then I'm going to culinary school I guess. Getting a job as a head chef or sous chef at a restaurant. It won't be the same as having my own, but it'll have to do. Apparently owning a business just isn't for me."
"I'm happy you tried," says Meg. She picks off a fat piece of cookie dough using her nails, and licks it off her fingers. I follow suit, but I take an even bigger chunk. "Most people never get that far."
"I guess."
"Before you know it, you'll clear out the debt and get to start fresh. For real, this time."
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