Breakup Boot Camp

by Beth Merlin

  We sat at our kitchen table while he recounted their budding relationship and the great lengths he went to in order to keep it a secret. Sam willingly answered every single question related to his infidelity, except one. He didn’t tell me the girl’s name. He didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask. What difference did it make who she was, really? All that mattered was that she even existed at all.

  Over the next several hours, I learned that Sam kept a separate bank account for any expenses related to their relationship and often helped her meet her rent. He told me the two of them met up several nights a week after her shift at the club, but because she had several roommates, they usually went to a hotel. Like a witness on the stand, Sam recounted the countless lies and half-truths he’d delivered to me over the course of the last several months. Work served as his biggest cover, but there were so many fabrications, so many betrayals, it didn’t take long to see that his dishonesty touched almost every aspect of our daily life. In reality, he’d been leading two lives, one as the dutiful fiancé and the other as a single man about town.

  As Sam detailed the affair, I played back each deceit, wondering how I could have been so blind. There was the afternoon a few months ago, when he sent me to the spa at the Peninsula Hotel, arranging for a massage, facial, manicure, and pedicure. I remember bragging to the aesthetician about my thoughtful boyfriend who, for no reason I could think of, was treating me to a day of beauty. Little did I know he just wanted me out of the way for a few hours so he could be with her.

  Then, there was the time he presented me with a plane ticket to Maine to visit my best friend from college, Grace, who was performing in a touring production of Miss Saigon. I was gone for an entire weekend, and he spent all of it with his girlfriend.

  After he was finished talking, I got up from the table to crack open the bottle of 2013 Opus One we’d been saving for our first anniversary. Last year, on Sam’s “yes date,” he surprised me with a trip to Napa Valley. Our first stop was the Opus One Vineyard, a beautiful winery off Highway 29. Opus One was famous for their world class Cabernet Sauvignon, so renowned, in fact, that they only put out one signature blend a year. Sam arranged for us to take their Library & Tasting tour.

  Beginning in the Salon, the tour concluded in the Opus One Private Library, with a formal seated tasting of two vintages. The server brought over two glasses on a silver tray, and there, sitting between the goblets, was a black velvet ring box. Sam got down on one knee and told me I was the love of his life and the one and only woman he could imagine calling his wife. Sam slipped the ring on my finger and asked me to marry him. I threw my arms around his neck and told him nothing would make me happier.

  In celebration of our engagement, the sommelier presented us with a bottle of their 2013 vintage. He explained that 2013’s consistently warm summer and early fall, uninterrupted by heat spikes or rain, made for an early harvest in near perfect temperatures. In fact, the ideal conditions, resulted in some of the finest and most expensive cabs Napa ever produced. The sommelier went on to explain the wine’s value in the market and that its worth would only increase over time. He encouraged us to save the bottle for a very special occasion in the future.

  Sam’s eyes practically popped out of his head when he saw me uncorking the expensive wine we’d been saving and pouring the rich red cab into a glass. I took a sip and swooshed the warm liquid around in my mouth like they’d shown us on all the vineyard tours, then sniffed the glass.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I shut my eyes and swallowed hard. “I think it needed more time to mature.”

  Sam nodded and poured himself a glass. “You can stay at the apartment tonight. I’ll go to a hotel.”

  I opened my eyes and set the goblet back down on the table. “That’s okay. I’ll stay with Merritt tonight.”

  “What about tomorrow?” he asked, as if we were really talking in these small absolutes and not our entire relationship.

  I narrowed my eyes. “What about tomorrow, Sam?”

  “Should I plan to stay at a hotel, or do you think you might be willing to meet me to talk?”

  “What will you have to say to me then that will be any different than what you can say to me right now?”

  “I thought you might want some time to…” his voice faded off.

  “To what? To fully digest the idea that my fiancé has been seeing another woman under my nose for months and months?”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  I stood up and backed away from the table. “It wasn’t? What was it like, then? Help me to understand this, Sam, because right now, none of this makes any sense to me.”

  “You and I have been together for so long. I’m sure in all this time, you must have wondered what it would be like to be with someone else?”

  I’d never considered it. I had found my Prince Charming, so what else could I possibly look for? The fact that I found him in high school always seemed like a positive to me, not a negative. As far as I knew, we were happy, blissfully happy.

  “I never meant for it to go on for as long as it has, Jo. I swear, but things haven’t been perfect with us, you know that.”

  I took a deep breath and braced myself to ask the one question I didn’t really want an answer to. “Do you love her?”

  “I’m not in love with her, no.” He hung his head in his hands. “I have feelings for her, I can’t deny that. But, I was going to end things as soon as we got married. You have to believe me.”

  He rose from his chair, took two steps in my direction, and reached for my shoulder. I recoiled from his touch. “I have to believe you? You brought another woman here, to our home, into our bed. God, I can’t even look at you.”

  With those words, the tears I’d been holding back all night flooded over. As I cried, the invisible cord around my heart continued to tighten. I covered my mouth with my hands to mash my sobs, but they broke through anyway. Sam came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. I leaned back into him, and within seconds my chest slowed down, so that our breaths were in near perfect rhythm. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

  “I should go. Any later and I’ll worry Merritt.”

  “Don’t go,” he whispered. “I’m worried if you walk out that door you’ll never come back.”

  I wrenched away and looked him square in the face. “Good.”

  Since Naomi and Alec were fast asleep, Merritt met me down at the hotel bar. I spotted her at one of the high-top tables, a long, beige trench coat barely covering up her red flannel plaid pajamas underneath. When our eyes met, she jumped off the stool, rushed over, and pulled me in for a big bear hug.

  “Come,” she said, taking me by the hand. “I want to hear everything.”

  I sat down across from her, my feet dangling off the tall chair. Merritt’s touched the ground.

  Merritt waved over a server and turned to me. “What do you want? And puh-lease don’t start with this skinny girl margarita shit. If half of what you texted me is true, you need a real drink. Something brown and strong, and will numb the pain.”

  “Okay, I’ll have an Old-Fashioned.”

  “Make that two,” Merritt said, holding up her fingers. The server scribbled down our order and set off for the bar.

  Merritt pushed the small glass votive to the side of the table and took my hands into her own. “Start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

  I took a deep breath and recounted the events of the last several hours, starting with Candytopia and ending with the admission of his affair. Merritt’s eyes got wider and wider as I relayed the sordid details and countless lies. When I finished, she sipped on her Old-Fashioned, shook her head and muttered a series of expletives that would make even the most hardened criminal blush.

  “I could kill him with my bare hands,” she said and set down her glass. “And you really had no idea? None?”

  “He’s been working nonstop because of some crazy deal.”

  “Let m
e guess, the crazy deal has big tits and a nice ass.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t see her ass.”

  Merritt slapped her forehead. “Oh, Christ, that’s right, the sexts with the full-frontal shots. Who is this chick? Did he tell you?”

  “Not much. She’s a struggling actress. He met her at 1 OAK. She works bottle service there at night.”

  “Of course she does. She had to know about you, right?”

  “According to him, no, she had no idea. He told her the same stories he told me, that work kept him busy and left him little time for a personal life.”

  Merritt nodded. “Look, I already told Naomi I’m extending my trip. I’ll stay here as long you want and help you with anything you need. First things first, we have to cancel the wedding venue, send out a note to all the guests, deal with the florist, photographer, and see if we can get any money back from your dress. Then, I’ll help you find a new place to live.”

  My head was swimming. I was still trying to accept the idea that Sam, my Sam, had another girlfriend. That we were over. I hadn’t even thought about the wedding and associated fallout.

  Merritt reached into her pocket, pulled out a hotel key card, and slid it across the table. “I booked you your own room through the end of next week, so nothing needs to be decided tonight. Please, Jo, just try and get some rest.”

  I picked it up and held the card to my chest. “Thank you.”

  Merritt motioned to the lobby. “I should get back upstairs to Alec.”

  “I think I’ll stay down here a bit longer. I need a few more minutes for all that adrenaline to die down.”

  Merritt leaned down and kissed me on the top of my head. “I’m right down the hall if you need me.”

  Three Old-Fashioneds later, I staggered to the elevator and up to my floor. I let myself into the room, a beautiful suite with views of Central Park. It was empty now, but tomorrow the park would be filled with thousands of people. Runners circling the reservoir, children sailing boats at the basin, couples picnicking on the Great Lawn. The sun would rise and set for all of them, and life would resume as normal. For me, it would never be the same. It’d only been a few hours, and I already missed Sam with every molecule of my being.

  I threw myself across the large bed and crawled up to the pillows. Sliding under the heavy comforter, I reached over to the side of the bed that was normally Sam’s. The noticeable emptiness of the space beside me filled my chest until I could hardly breathe, and I wondered how it was possible that someone could so completely break your heart, and yet you could still love them with all the little pieces that once made up who you used to be.

  Chapter Nine

  True to her word, Merritt stayed in New York to cancel the wedding plans with me. She studied contracts, negotiated terms, and basically took the lead in every conversation. Considering I couldn’t even say Sam’s name without breaking down in tears, I was extremely grateful for her help. Most of the vendors were understanding, agreeing to return the money we’d already paid, minus our initial deposits. As the photographer told us, Sam wasn’t “the first groom in history to be caught with his pants down before the wedding.”

  I was most worried about our seemingly iron-clad agreement with the The Pierre Hotel, but fortunately, there was a couple from Japan interested in getting married there the same weekend our wedding had been booked. The coordinator had them on a cancellation waitlist and let the couple know our slot had opened, which they immediately jumped on. We lost our sizable deposit, but the hotel refunded the rest of the money we’d already laid out.

  “Now that we’ve settled your housing situation, all that’s left is the dress,” Merritt said as we stepped out of The Pierre and onto Fifth Avenue.

  Merritt had managed to help me find an apartment in record time, especially for a tight real estate market like New York. Her friend Nick was directing a brand-new Netflix television series in Vancouver for the next six months and was looking for an immediate subletter. Merritt signed the paperwork and gave a two-month deposit before I had the chance to object. She even arranged for movers to pack up and take my things to my new place.

  “And you really can’t talk to anyone at the bridal store until next week?” she asked.

  “Their Wedding Unwinder isn’t available until Tuesday.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Wedding Unwinder?”

  “They apparently have someone on staff who was hired just to deal with broken engagements.”

  Merritt dug around her purse for her sunglasses. “That’s some job, although, after this week, I could probably apply.”

  Merritt looked up and saw the pained expression on my face. She slipped her arm around my waist and pulled me in for a squeeze.

  “I’m sorry. It’s way too soon to make light of anything,” she said.

  “No, it’s fine. Wedding Unwinder sounds completely ridiculous to me too. Why don’t they just call the job what it really is, the person who keeps jilted brides from throwing themselves off the 59th Street Bridge.”

  She pushed her sunglasses onto her head. “You weren’t jilted.”

  “No, that’s right, I was just cheated on and betrayed.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, that settles it, I can’t go home tomorrow.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Mer, you have a wife, a child, and a job. You have to go home eventually.”

  “Who’s going to make sure you’re eating and sleeping? I mean this in the most loving and sisterly way, but you look like shit. You’ve dropped at least another couple of pounds, and those bags under your eyes are getting darker by the day.” Merritt took me by the hands. “Joey, maybe it’s time to talk to somebody. An Ambien prescription can do wonders.”

  I forced a smile on my face and nodded. I could see there was no way she’d get on a flight home unless I threw her a bone. “You know, you’re right. I’ll make an appointment for next week.”

  “Good. Stephen said to take as much time as you need, right?”

  “Not quite, but he gave me the rest of this week to deal with this mess.”

  “What about Sam?”

  I jerked my head up. “What about him?”

  “You two need to talk.”

  “I don’t see why. His name is the one on the mortgage for the apartment, not mine. We have separate credit cards, bills, even phone plans. I told him just to keep the engagement gifts. I don’t want them.”

  “I’m not talking about your finances. Sam wasn’t just some guy you dated for a few months. Don’t you want to hear what he has to say? God knows, I’m not saying to forgive him, but he’s been in your life for far too long to just abruptly cut him out of it.”

  “So, what are you saying, Merritt?” I snapped back in a tone far harsher than I intended.

  “You need some form of closure. It’s the only way to begin to move on.”

  “And what if I can’t? You know, move on?”

  “I know it feels that way now, but it won’t forever.”

  “Truthfully, the only thing I feel is numb.”

  Merritt put her hand on my shoulder. “Come on, the florist is expecting us at 3:00.”

  A few days later, I gave my name to the front desk receptionist at the wedding salon, who quickly ushered me to a small office on the lower level of the shop, far away from the shopping brides. The room was painted a tranquil sky blue with a deep-seated light gray velvet couch in the center of the space. In the corner was a small table with a blue-and-white porcelain tea set. The receptionist let me know to make myself comfortable and told me Regan, the Wedding Unwinder, would be in to join me shortly. I settled onto one of the cushions, while Enya’s “Only Time” hummed out of a ceiling speaker. Apparently, this was how they kept jilted brides from jumping off the 59th Street Bridge.

  A few minutes later there was a light knock on the door. A petite woman who looked to be around my age entered the room holding a large manila envelope and garment bag. She had dark brown hair pull
ed back into a loose bun and was wearing a simple white button-down shirt, a classic strand of pearls, slim trousers, and kitten heels. She poured two cups of tea and carried them over to the couch, passing me one as she sank into the seat.

  “You must be Joanna,” she said, handing me her business card. I glanced down to read it. Regan Westman, MFT.

  I looked up. “MFT?”

  “Marriage and Family Therapist.” Regan reached behind her for the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers from inside. “I know this must be a difficult time, but I’m here to make this as painless as possible.”

  I swallowed to clear the lump in my throat. “I appreciate that.”

  She placed her hand over my own and squeezed. “Of course. So, it looks like you made the final payment on your Georgica Goldstein gown just a couple of days ago?”

  “I think I just owe a bit more for the final alterations.”

  “Right, I see here that the dress needed to be taken in pretty significantly.” She arched her left eyebrow. “Benji’s Boot Camp?”

  “He’s the best.”

  Regan smiled and turned the stack of papers over. “In these situations, we offer our brides three options. Option One, you pay the remaining balance and take the dress home today. Option Two, we resell the dress as a sample at a reduced price point. You likely wouldn’t recoup the full amount you’ve spent, but you’ll get some portion back.”

  “What’s Option Three?”

  “Some of our brides aren’t ready to say goodbye to their dress but find it too difficult to have it in their home. Once you pay the remaining balance, we’ll store it here for you for no extra charge. You may come to realize that while you may not have found the perfect man, you did find the perfect gown.”