Me: Too late. Goodbye, Cord.
I stare at my message for a minute, for what reason I’m not sure, but when I see the bubbles start to move, I know he’s typing back, and I put my phone on airplane mode. I know the message will still be there when I take it off airplane mode, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving, and he’s hurt me enough over the past five days. I’d rather not cry the whole way to Philly, and I’m not changing my mind about going.
When the wheels of the plane leave the ground, my heart somehow feels lighter. I’m doing this. The further I fly away from Colorado, the more my spirit lifts. I’m going on an adventure of a lifetime.
My parents meet me at the baggage terminal, and I almost break down when I see their faces. It’s been two years since I’ve seen them, and I’ve missed them so much.
“Eleanor!” my mother shouts.
“Hi, Mom,” I squeal as she pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.
My dad comes up beside us, patting my mother’s arm so she’ll let me go. “Hi, baby girl,” he says as he pulls me into his arms.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper.
“You look amazing, Eleanor! What have you been doing to yourself?” my mom questions.
“I’ve been taking better care of myself and exercising. Can you tell?” I ask proudly.
“Hell yes, we can tell. You look twenty years younger. You’re gonna need to share your secrets with me,” my mom laughs out.
We chitchat as we wait for my luggage. My dad grabs the last bag and we make our way to the parking garage.
While we’re driving to my childhood home, I take my phone off airplane mode and text the boys and Claire to let them know I’ve arrived in Philly and am with my parents. I promise to call them over the next few days while I’m here. I know Cord responded to my last text, but I refuse to open it.
MY THREE DAYS in Philly are busy. I spend as much time as I can with my parents and do a little shopping and sightseeing. The morning of my flight to Rome, I call all the boys and chat with each of them to make sure they are all doing okay. They’re excited for me, but I can tell they are nervous. Next I call Claire, who fills me in on the breakup and get-back-together cycle that she and Tyler have been on for the past week. When it’s time for me to go, I tell her I’ll probably email everyone more than texting until I figure out the cost of international texting on my plan. I guess I should’ve thought about that before now.
My parents dropped me at the airport a couple of hours early, so I have enough time to grab a quick bite to eat before my nine-hour flight. I purposefully booked an overnight flight so I can attempt to sleep through most of it. I brought Melatonin to help out with that.
Once we are boarded and pulling away from the terminal, I put my phone on airplane mode and bring up my text messages from Cord over the past few days. I’d promised myself throughout my stay in Philly, as the text notifications came in from Cord, that I would not open them until I was on the plane and leaving. I’d kept my promise. The moment the wheels leave the ground, I’ll see what he has to say.
Cord: What do you mean too late?
Cord: Ellie?
Cord: Too late as in you’re already gone, or too late as in too late for us to fix this?
Cord: I won’t do this over text message, Ellie. I need to talk to you face-to-face.
Cord: Please.
Cord: Why aren’t my messages being delivered? Is your phone off?
That was the day I left Colorado. The next few texts don’t come until the following day.
Cord: So you’re already gone. Got it. Can I at least call you? I don’t want things to end this way.
My blood starts to boil and I’m glad I’m on this plane and unable to respond because I am so pissed and I know I’ll say something I’ll regret. He had five days. FIVE DAMN DAYS to talk to me, and he waited until I was on the plane to leave to figure out he needed to tell me something.
Cord: Eli said you’re staying with your parents in Philly for a few days. Please call me when you can. I need to talk to you before you leave for Italy, E.
Oh, now I’m back to “E” huh?
Next day.
Cord: Damn it, Ellie. I just need five minutes of your time. Can’t you even give me that?
Cord: This will be the last time I ask, Ellie. Please.
This morning.
Cord: Okay. I’m sorry. Goodbye, Eleanor.
And this is exactly why I wanted to wait until I was in the air before I read these. Because my heart and soul are screaming at me to run to him. They are telling me I need to let him explain and to give up this pipe dream about touring Italy while learning to cook amazing Italian food. I know my heart wants me to go back, but my brain is taking over.
My entire life I’ve done exactly what everyone else wanted me to do, what everyone else expected me to do. I married the man who fathered my children. I stayed home and raised them basically on my own. I took care of a huge house and looked after a grown man who didn’t love me for more than twenty years. I went back to school to do something I love. And now . . . now I’m leaving the opportunity to be loved by an amazing man to prove to myself I can live on my own; that I can be happy with my own company and no one else’s. I need to learn to love myself again, before I can ever be ready to give my heart away for the last time.
Maybe, just maybe, when I finish this internship, I’ll have found what I’m looking for, and maybe Cord will still want to take that leap with me.
WHEN WE LAND IN Rome, I’m actually surprised how much I slept. It’s 6:30 a.m. Tuesday here, which means it’s 10:30 p.m. Monday in Colorado.
I take my phone off airplane mode and text the boys and Claire in a group message.
Me: I’M IN ROME! :) I will email you guys when I get settled at my hotel.
And they all respond within seconds, proving to me they’ve been waiting for this text.
Destry: Love you, Mama.
Ben: Holy hell, finally! I’ve been a nervous wreck. <3
Claire: Find me a hot Italian man for when I come visit.
Eli: Ewwww . . . Claire made it creepy. Love you, Ma.
I laugh, stow my phone, and debark the plane. Although I slept almost the entire flight, I’m exhausted.
The shuttle from the hotel is waiting with a sign that reads: “Mrs. Eleanor Harper.”
As I approach him, his smile widens and he speaks with a heavy accent. “Mrs. Harper?”
“Ms., but yes, I am Ms. Harper. Please call me Ellie. Are you my ride to the hotel?” I ask, praying he speaks English.
“Yes. I take you,” he responds as he takes the carry-on from my hands.
“Perfect,” I reply, turning to the carousel to get my bags.
“No, please. I get. You stay,” he tells me, pointing to an empty seat, where he has deposited my carry-on. I explain what my bags look like and then thankfully take the seat, watching as the young man waits to retrieve my bags. As he stands near the carousel, waiting, I snap a picture of him and send it to Claire, which goes to the whole group from earlier apparently.
Me: Here ya go. My ride to the hotel.
Seconds pass. Phone buzzes.
Claire: YUM
Eli: . . . and then Mom made it creepier.
I snort at Eli’s response, once again depositing my phone into my purse. I miss them all so much already.
The drive to the hotel is breathtaking. When we pass St. Peter’s Basilica, I can’t help but think of Cord and his siblings. My heart longs for him, and if I’m honest with myself, I miss everything about his family.
When we get to the hotel, I’m surprised at the luxury within.
I am thankful for the concierge’s insistence he escort me to my room since he is the one carrying my heavy luggage. The moment he’s gone, I jerk the curtains open in my room and stare out at the vast city in front of me and can’t help but smile like a lunatic. This place is so much more amazing than I ever could’ve hoped for.
I throw myself down on the huge king-sized
bed and take in the beautiful art on the ceiling.
Buzz. Buzz.
I pull my phone from my purse and open the text before I even look at who it’s from.
Eli: Mom, I know you said not to text you and that you’d email as soon as you get settled at the hotel, but I can’t wait any longer. Please call Cord. He needs to talk to you.
I respond, because I know he will worry if I wait until I get my computer up and running.
Me: Please tell him to stop putting you in the middle of this. I will contact him sometime today.
Eli: Will do. Love you.
Me: I love you too, sweet boy.
The fact that Cord is continuing to talk to my boys pisses me off. I’m almost tempted to call him, but it’s now almost 9 a.m. here, so it’s 1 a.m. there. But then the thought of waking him up at 1 a.m. tickles me, so I call.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello,” an extremely sleepy, feminine voice answers. Confused, I pull the phone from my face, staring back at the profile picture of Cord in our field of wildflowers. Yep, right number.
“Don’t answer my phone,” I hear a groggy voice bark in the background.
“I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number,” I stammer quickly before hanging up.
Well, that answers that question. I put the phone down beside me and take a deep breath. That didn’t take long. I’m such an idiot.
I numbly put my clothes away in the dresser and closet, take a long hot shower, and then fire up my computer. I need to adjust to the time difference quickly since I have less than a week before I have to start my internship.
Ring. Ring.
I pick up my phone and see Cord’s name and picture staring back at me.
Decline.
It’s only 10 a.m. I should walk down to the nearest café and have breakfast. Although I’m not starving, I could definitely go for an Italian espresso.
Ring. Ring.
Cord.
Decline.
I don’t know how long I’ll actually be in Rome before I move on to the next place. I’d like to get in some sightseeing in the next few days.
Ring. Ring.
Cord.
Decline.
I sit at the little desk and make a list of the places I must see while I’m here.
St. Peters Basilica
The Pantheon
The Colosseum
The Vatican
Trevi Fountain
The Spanish Steps
The Roman Forum
Ring. Ring.
Cord.
Decline.
There are several restaurants I’ve heard of that I’d like to try out too.
La Porta Del Principe
Ciacco & Bacco
Elettroforno Frontini
Vincini Bistrot
Ring. Ring.
Cord.
Decline.
Today, I’ll rest. Walk around close to the hotel. Take in the scenery. Take some new pictures that don’t remind me of Cord.
Buzz.
Cord: And here is another instance where you are not allowing me to explain the situation.
I consider responding and giving him a piece of my mind because he was the one who didn’t want anything to do with me before I left Colorado, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter what the reasoning is behind a woman answering his phone at 1 a.m. with him in bed beside her. I don’t deserve second best to a dead wife, and I sure as shit don’t deserve second best to whoever is warming his bed. Unbeknownst to me up until a couple months ago, I was second best to Justin for more than twenty years. Just the woman at home, too dumb to realize what was really going on with my husband, too dumb to realize he was stepping out on me every chance he got. I won’t put myself in that position again. Ever. I deserve better. I demand better.
I spend an hour trying to calm down and wracking my brain on how to respond, I finally think I’ve come up with my response.
Me: First, you had almost a week to talk to me about what happened at Saint, but you waited until I was on the plane leaving to even express a desire to talk to me. I do not need an explanation for what just happened. The fact that a woman answered your phone, both of you sounding like you were asleep next to each other is explanation enough. I really do wish you happiness, Cord. You deserve it . . . and I truly hope that one day you’ll be able to let her and your guilt go, and you’ll move on with your life. Be Saint again. Goodbye.
I press Send and then bring up Cord’s contact, blocking him from responding.
As much as I care about him, I have to let him go to save my own sanity. I have to because I can’t go another day in this lifetime feeling like, or being treated like, I’m disposable. I refuse.
And then I cry like I’ve never cried before because the pain of knowing, once again, I just wasn’t enough literally shatters my heart. I cry until I can’t cry anymore . . . and then I promise myself I won’t do it again. I will not shed another tear over another man.
FOR WEEKS, MY mornings and afternoons are filled with learning from the most amazing home cooks ever; some old enough to be my grandmother, others young enough to be my children. In the evenings, I sightsee and email my family and Claire.
A week after I got here, Detective Sampson called and let me know the guy who hit me confessed and was going to plead to a lesser charge. He let me know the plea bargain would require him to do a year in prison, followed by inpatient treatment since this was his third DUI in less than ten years, followed by seven years of supervised probation. It was a win-win for me because that meant I didn’t have to go home for any trial, and the guy obviously needed help for his addiction.
After a short consult with an orthopedic doctor here in Rome, the brace has finally come off and my wrist is adjusting well to the exercises he gave me to help with the mobility. It’s nice not having that damn thing on hindering everything I do.
I try like hell not to think about Cord, but every night when I lay my head down, his beautiful face creeps into my mind. I miss him horribly and I hate myself for it.
I’ve been enjoying my daily runs more than I ever thought I could enjoy exercise. It is the only time I ever feel like I can let go of everything in my life that is stressing me out or making me worry. Running has definitely become my therapy since I got here. It’s like I can turn my music on, turn off my brain, and just run. It has also been completely helpful with keeping my weight in check considering the amazing food around me at any given moment.
A couple of days ago, I put on a pair of jeans that I hadn’t worn since I got to Italy and they literally fell off me. I apparently need to go shopping.
Justin has texted me a few more times since I got here, but I’ve continued to ignore all of them. I always make sure they don’t have anything to do with the boys since he is there and I’m across an ocean, but I never respond. None of them have been about the boys, so what’s the point? He continues to tell me how sorry he is and that he’s continuing counseling. I don’t know why he thinks I care. I don’t.
Today is Sunday and the day I usually put in my long run. My right ankle has been bothering me a bit, so I decide to forego my run and let it rest. I’m a little behind on my emails and figure I might as well get that done since I’ll be off my feet all day.
I’m surprised to see all of the emails in my inbox, but my heart about jumps out of my throat when I see an email from Sami Cordero. It’s been almost six weeks since my last text to Cord, so I’m surprised she is writing to me. I’m not sure I want to know what she has to say. I figure I’ll read and respond to hers last.
Claire and Tyler are still together and doing better than ever. She talks minimally about work and a lot about Tyler. She tells me about a recent dinner she and Tyler had with my boys and how they basically threatened to kick his ass if he hurt her. Yeah, that sounds like my boys.
Destry is back in Colorado and happy about it. He is focusing on his studies at UC and enjoying not having the worries of football. When he transferred,
he didn’t even attempt to play for UC. He wants to focus on his future and he keeps saying he knows football is not it. I’m proud of him. He used to love football. Something changed that, but I don’t know what, and I can only hope someday he’ll tell me.
Ben is good, although his emails and minimal phone calls are vague. He seems to be distancing himself from me and, although it breaks my heart, there is nothing I can do about it. I’ve tried asking him what is going on, but he just says everything is fine and skirts over it. I will get to the bottom of it when I go home.
Eli, on the other hand, emails me almost daily with the details of how he is doing. He has always been such a mama’s boy. He has mentioned a girl named Sara a few times, but hadn’t come out and said he is dating her until today . . . when he told me she is the nurse who took care of me when I was in the hospital. I liked her and now I almost want to kiss her for getting Eli to actually want to be in a relationship. She must be pretty special. I can’t wait to get home so I can meet her outside of the hospital walls.
It’s just a little bit past noon, and I know I’ll probably need a nice glass of wine in order to get through this email with Sami.
After I pour a slightly larger-than-normal glass of red, I sit back down at my computer and open Sami’s email. It doesn’t take long for the tears to come.
To: Ellie Harper
From: Sami Cordero
Re: Hi’ya
Hey Ellie! Long time no talk. I just figured I’d write and see how you are doing over there in Italy, enjoying all that wonderful food and wine . . . mmm.
Anyway, we are all doing well, minus my 24/7 pukefest. It seems Bishop and I are destined to repopulate the world. Baby number six coming this summer. Please say a prayer that it’s a boy. Bish is just beside himself wanting a boy. The girls are all growing like weeds, doing well in school and our little Amaya is finally up and walking like crazy now. She said her first curse word last week too, compliments of Uncle Cord.
Defining Moments Page 20
