The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

“We’ll talk soon. Good-bye, London.”

  “Good-bye.”

  The line goes dead. I hold the phone to my chest and fall to my bed with a giddy laugh. I’m going to be writing for the freaking Los Angeles Times! I can’t believe this.

  I jump onto my feet and begin to bounce atop my mattress. For a brief moment, I allow myself to only think about LA and this fantastic job opportunity. I continue to jump on my bed, like a little kid, letting out squeals of celebration, and for the first time in a very long while, I feel human again. I have a purpose.

  Amid my jovial merriment, Paige opens my door, just coming home from work. She doesn’t even ask what’s going on. She simply kicks off her heels and leaps onto my bed. Grabbing my hands, she starts jumping with me. Her face is aglow with a giant smile as she revels in happiness for me.

  She is such a gift. Like a true friend, she doesn’t need to know the reasons to support me. She’s just there.

  After another minute of springing atop my mattress, we plop down onto my bed, breathing heavily from our celebration. The second my head hits my pillow and my body stills, the tears begin to fall. In an instant, I’m a sobbing mess.

  I sit up, and Paige pulls me into a hug. The weight of my current situation pulls on my heart.

  I’m leaving.

  I’m leaving Paige.

  I’m leaving Michigan.

  I’m leaving Loïc.

  The last thought hurts the most because I know that I will have to officially close the chapter on Loïc and our relationship. Moving across the country will be the force I need to turn the page to the next chapter, even when I hoped the last one would have turned into another book. Just because my story with Loïc is over doesn’t mean the novel of my life is. I have a lot more to tell, and I’m hoping this job will give me the courage to do so.

  “I have some news,” I say, pulling away from Paige’s embrace.

  “Okay…” Paige nods in encouragement.

  “Well, remember that guy we met on New Year’s Eve, the one who works for the LA Times?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I called him, and he offered me a job in California.”

  Tears begin to stream down Paige’s cheeks as she says, “I’m so happy for you!”

  When she pulls me into another hug, I say, “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be, London. I get it. I’m going to miss you like crazy, but I think this is going to be really good for you. I know you’re not happy here.”

  I marginally lean back so that I’m facing her. “I just didn’t know what else to do.” I shrug.

  “I know.” She nods. “This is great, London. Really. I mean, the LA Times! That’s amazing! Plus, you’ll get a fresh start, which I think you need. Sure, we won’t see each other every day, but you’ll always be my best friend. That will never change.”

  “Exactly. Plus, we’ll visit and text and talk all the time.”

  “Totally,” Paige agrees. “I mean, we can’t be roommates forever. That’s life.”

  “Right.” I nod.

  “You know what they say…” Paige’s face lights up.

  “What’s that?” I ask on a sigh, knowing she’s about to make zero sense.

  She lets out an exhale. “Make sure to put all your eggs in one basket.” She beams with positivity.

  I furrow my brows before responding, “Isn’t it supposed to be, Don’t put all your eggs in one basket?”

  “But you’re putting all your eggs in one basket with this LA thing. Why would I say not to?” Paige tilts her head to the side in question.

  “I don’t know, but that’s the way the saying goes. You’re not supposed to put all your eggs in one basket because you’re supposed to leave yourself with different options, you know? Hence, the saying. But I am putting all my eggs in one basket because I’m relying on this LA job to come through. So, the saying doesn’t make sense.”

  “Right. That’s why I said to put them all in one basket.” Paige widens her eyes, as if to say, Duh.

  “But that’s not the saying, Paige. You’re not supposed to put all your eggs in one basket,” I say, exasperated.

  “Why are you so stuck on this egg thing? You don’t even like eggs that much.” Paige scrunches her lips together.

  “OMG! You brought this entire thing up!” I scoff before breaking out in laughter. Wrapping my arms around Paige, I pull her into a hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “Me, too.” She squeezes me back. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, right?”

  “You’re ridiculous.” I chuckle. “I’m not even going there.”

  She pulls back and looks me in the eyes. “What are you going to do without all my words of advice?”

  “Be a hell of a lot less confused!” I smile big. “Though I have a feeling I’m going to be getting it anyway. You’re going to be blowing up my phone.”

  “Just as much as you’ll be blowing up mine.”

  “You know it.” I grin. “I love you, Paigey Poo.”

  “I love you, London.”

  It’s surreal to think that I’m going to be moving across the country, but I have a really good feeling about it.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever live in Michigan again. I kind of doubt it.

  But I’m hoping, with time and distance, eventually, when I think back to my time in this state, I’ll remember all the great experiences I had in college and my memories with Paige. This home has given me so much more than heartbreak. Someday, my heart will be healed enough to remember that.

  Loïc

  “My life is a daily battle of fighting to simply exist.”

  —Loïc Berkeley

  “I just don’t know what to name him. You have to give me suggestions, Loïc,” Sarah whines beside me.

  She’s lying atop a blanket on the grass in a black string bikini. I can just see her closed eyelids behind the sunglasses as her face points up toward the midday sun.

  Sitting in a lounge chair beside her, I’m trying to soak up the vitamin D that she is so adamant about. She says that the sun always makes people feel better. I decided to humor her since, for June, the humidity and heat aren’t excessive today and because I could use some non-couch time.

  I pull in slow, steady breaths as the rays of the sun heat my skin. Truthfully, I could stand to feel better—to feel anything actually. I’ve been back for over a month, and I’m still waiting for something, anything, to happen that will allow me to feel human again. My life is just…void. It’s lacking purpose, feelings, desire…basically everything. I’m merely existing, and I don’t know what to do to make it better.

  “Loïc!” Sarah shrieks, breaking my attempt at peaceful meditation. “Did you hear me?”

  “I’ve told you”—I carefully measure my voice, making sure the tone carries a semblance of compassion—“it is totally your call, Sarah. Your baby, your choice.”

  “But you’re going to be a big part in his life. I want you to be involved. I want you to care.”

  I let out a sigh. “I do care.”

  “I know you do. I wish you showed it a little more.”

  “I’m doing the best I can, Sarah.”

  I admit, sometimes, I wish she would just go and leave me to wallow on my couch alone. But I realize that it’s better that she’s here. It’s important that I’m accountable to someone. I’m afraid I’d lose myself completely if I weren’t.

  “I know you are. I’m sorry, Loïc. I’m more sensitive now—you know, the hormones and all.” Her voice picks up an octave. “So, what about Henry, after your granddad? Or William, after your dad? Do you like either of those names?”

  “Any name is fine. Name him what you like. You don’t have to name him after my family. It doesn’t matter.”

  Her whine returns as she says, “It matters to me, Loïc. We’re naming a human here. It is a big deal.”

  “What about that baby name book that you bought the other day? You should read through it and make a list of names
you like,” I suggest.

  “Oh, good idea! So, I’ll make a list of names, and then I’ll read them off to you, so we can decide together.”

  “Okay,” I concede.

  “Great!” She hops off the blanket faster than a pregnant woman should be able to and rushes into the house.

  Sarah has been hunched over the kitchen table all afternoon, studying that baby name book like a college student preparing for final exams. From the living room couch, I’ve heard her frantically write names, cross them off, and flip pages, like a woman on a mission.

  The doorbell rings.

  “I got it!” Sarah calls, as she does every time even though I’ve never attempted to get the door since she’s been here.

  After a few minutes, she walks by with a large pizza box. I inhale the aroma of melted cheese, buttery garlic, and pepperoni as she passes behind the couch. I reach for my crutches. Positioning them beneath my arms, I use them to pull myself off the couch. I take a moment to balance on my one foot before using the crutches to assist me to the kitchen.

  Most days, I try to wear my prosthetic leg, but others, I simply need a break from it. I know I’ll eventually get used to it, but for now, it’s an annoyance. It brings an uncomfortable, hot, itchy, unnatural presence to my daily life, contributing to my slow decline toward insanity.

  Sarah sets the table for two. She places a glass of ice water in front of me as I take the first bite of my pizza slice.

  “So, I’ve finally narrowed down the list to my top name choices,” Sarah says excitedly.

  “Good. You’ve been working hard on that list.”

  “I know. I’ve gone back and forth through the boy names more times than I can count. But I finally have a concise list. Now, I just need you to help me choose.”

  “All right, let’s hear them.”

  “Okay!” She reaches back to the counter to grab the piece of paper that she’s been writing on and pushes her plate to the side. “Remember, this is my final list. So, any of these names would work. I really want your opinion.”

  I force a smile. “I’m ready.”

  “So, of course, we still have Henry and William on the table. Then, I also like Wyatt, Grant, Evan, Andrew, Jax, Stephen, Jacob, Roman, Evan—oh, wait, I already said Evan. I must really like that one if I wrote it twice.” She laughs to herself. “Then, I have Kline, Luca, Gunnar, Xander, Reese, Lawson, Kyler, Trystan, Creed, Kace, Grey, Rowan, Garrett, Dax, Bowie, Beckett, Kale, Jace, and Chandler.” She stops and pulls in a breath.

  “Oh, wow—” I start to say.

  She halts the rest of my thought. “Wait, I’m not done. I also like Kyler—oops, said that. So, we also have Lucas, Grayson, Mitchell, Logan, Madden, Landon, Sullivan, Jameson, Fordson, Zachary, Broderick, Corban, Roan, Hendrix, Ryan, Camden, Raine, Asten, Asher, Carter, Brody, Jagger, Kingston, Kohl, Ramsey, Reaves, Rhys, Saxton, Noah, Cooper, Eli, Elijah, Dean, Samuel, Connor, Braeden, Thad, Brant, Colby, Crosby, Garth, Ivan, Coulter, Kelby, Kirk, Fitz, Jameson, Knox, Langdon, Paxton, Prescott, Smith, Stone, Teague, Vaughn, and Walker.”

  I wait, expecting more name diarrhea to explode from her mouth.

  But, instead of saying another name, she expectantly looks at me. “So?”

  “Holy hell, Sarah. That’s your final list?”

  “Yeah,” she answers innocently.

  “And you don’t think you could have narrowed it down at all?”

  She seems offended. “I did! Like, a lot. I probably had, like, four times that at one point.”

  “What’d you do? Just copy down every name in the book?”

  “No,” she huffs. “I thought long and hard about each name and narrowed it down to my favorites.”

  “Well, I’ve got nothing for ya.” I shrug.

  “What do you mean?” Her eyes widen.

  “I mean, I can’t even remember one name you said because you were rattling them off faster than I could take them in.”

  “I’ll read them again.” She lowers her face to the paper.

  “No. Please don’t.” I hold up my hand. “Let me know when you’ve narrowed it down a little more, like when your list totals two or three.”

  “That’s, like, impossible!”

  I place my hand on Sarah’s. “Calm down. You have time. You’ve accomplished much harder things in your life than picking a name. It’ll be okay.”

  “But this is the most important thing I’ve ever done, Loïc. I’ve failed at everything. I can’t fail at this.” Her voice falters as her eyes fill with tears.

  “Sarah…” I start to say.

  “No, seriously…” A tear falls down her cheek. “We had the shittiest of childhoods, Loïc. I want my baby to have the best. I’ve already failed by not doing it the right way and giving him a father. He needs a strong name. It has to be perfect.”

  “Hey”—I lean in and pull her into a hug—“listen to me. There is no such thing as perfect, Sarah. Your life will have more ups and downs, and that’s okay. The main thing that children need is love, and you’ll make sure he feels loved. Everything else will work itself out.”

  I lean back so that I can look into her big blue eyes. “Whichever name you choose will be the right one because you chose it, his mother, who loves him more than anything in the world. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She nods, unsure.

  “You’re going to rock this motherhood thing. Just wait.” I shoot her a wink before I sit back in my chair and grab another slice of pizza.

  “I’m glad you have confidence in me.”

  “I do.” I smile.

  Sarah and I finish up eating. After tidying up the kitchen, we plop down on the couch to watch a movie. Sarah holds two Blu-ray cases in her hand.

  “I picked up two movies from Redbox that I thought you would like—Batman Versus Superman or Deadpool. You choose.”

  My chest constricts with pain the second she says Deadpool. Memories of repeatedly watching the movie while on deployment surface. Anything that reminds me of deployment automatically reminds me of Cooper. I will never be able to separate the two.

  I let out a rush of air. “Batman,” I hastily spit out, wiping my sweaty palms against my shorts.

  Sarah appears concerned and opens her mouth to speak before clamping it shut and simply nodding. She occupies herself by setting up the movie, taking longer than usual. I use the bonus time to get my shit together. Once I start spiraling down with Cooper regrets, it’s difficult to bring myself back to the present.

  My therapists, both in Germany and in DC, taught me many strategies to stop the panic attacks. I quickly run through them—counting, staying in the moment, breathing, and acknowledging my fear. After a tense moment, my heart rate begins to slow, and I can inhale without the overwhelming tightness of my chest interfering. Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of the specific techniques as much as the concentration I use to remember the different strategies. It takes my mind off the trigger long enough for me to regain control.

  Sarah sits next to me as the movie starts. This movie is completely up my alley. I love any Marvel or DC Comics movies. As a teen, I was able to get my hands on a few comic books. They were light enough and took up such little space that I was able to carry them with me as Sarah and I made our trek from Texas to Arizona. They were my only reading material for a couple of years, and I read those comics many times over.

  Yet, as I sit here, I’m finding it difficult to even focus on the movie at all. We’ve been watching it for at least an hour, and I can’t even say what it is about.

  Sarah reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for this one tonight. We can watch it another time.”

  “Yeah, I agree.”

  I know she’s just trying to make me happy, sensing my energy. But, even if I insisted she finish watching it, I know she wouldn’t. Sarah has always been able to read me, and she’s as loyal as they come.

  “Let’s just relax.” She sighs, leaning into my side.

&nbs
p; “Okay.” I situate myself so that I’m lying back on the couch.

  Sarah follows me down, her belly facing the side, as she lays her head on my bare stomach.

  The two of us just lie like this in silence for a long time. It’s probably the best time I’ve had with Sarah since we’ve been living together. That’s a sad truth to admit, but it’s my reality.

  I’m starting to drift off to sleep when I feel her hand start to glide across my abdomen.

  Sarah and I have always been close. When we were homeless, we slept together almost every night, our limbs entangled as we clung to each other for warmth and comfort. Yet there is something different about the way she’s touching me now. It’s more intimate somehow.

  My muscles tighten in response as her caress, loving and determined, teases its way over my skin. Her fingertip traces shapes on my body with minimal pressure. Her touch is almost a whisper. If I wasn’t paying attention, I might not even feel it, but I do. It resonates within, like a shout, and my mind screams with unrest.

  I swallow and pull in a stream of air. “Sarah?”

  “Shh…it’s okay, Loïc,” she murmurs. Her warm breath assaults my skin.

  Then, I feel it—her soft lips gently kissing up my chest.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to make sense of it all, but I don’t have any success. The truth is, nothing in my life has significant meaning anymore. I wish I could feel love again, but there’s no room for such a luxury.

  My life is a daily battle of fighting to simply exist. I fight to get up every morning, to breathe, to eat, to function. It’s an exhausting daily ritual just to make it to nighttime when I can close my eyes and drift off into oblivion.

  And then I wake up to do it all again.

  Every day.

  Being in this position with anyone isn’t a possibility right now.

  But, with Sarah, it’ll never be an option.

  She’s moving up my body. She kisses my neck.

  “Sarah, stop.”

  “Just let me love you,” she whispers.

  “You know you don’t have to do that. We’ve been through this before.” I sigh, thinking about all the times similar scenarios happened between Sarah and me when we were younger.