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For an uncomfortably long time, he didn’t have an answer. Until finally…
“It’s the second one.”
My heart sank as my body went limp. My head dropped into my own hands.
God, I’m so stupid!
But hey, at least he wasn’t insulting my intelligence.
“Thanks for that at least,” I grunted miserably. “You can pick your stuff up anytime.”
Slowly I tore the photo in half, straight down the center. I felt nothing.
“Sloane, I—”
“From the front lawn,” I added satisfactorily, and hung up.
Two
SLOANE
The next morning was miserable, mostly because it took forever to get ready. Ice cubes and cucumbers brought the swelling down around my eyes, and Visine took care of the whites.
Drake had wisely stayed away, although the stuff out on the lawn was gone by now. I’d heard the unmistakable diesel engine of his friend Jay’s truck sometime just after dark, right about the same time I was uncorking my second bottle of wine. There was no knock at the door though. No text-message or phone call, either.
And all of that was fine by me.
Glancing at the clock I could see I’d be late for work, but not by much. Having taken the rest of yesterday off for what I was calling a family emergency, I was confident my boss would understand. As busy as the foundry was this time of year, the kind old man who’d started the company “on a jar full of mercury dimes” loved me like the daughter he never had, or so he was so fond of telling me, anyway. His partner was a little more strict and by the book, but I also knew he appreciated my work ethic.
I had my keys in hand and was in the process of pulling the door shut behind me when I looked back one last time. The apartment was all mine now. It seemed empty and alone with all Drake’s things gone, but at least I’d done the hard part. Every last trace of our life together had been—
Oh… hell no.
My stomach flip-flopped as I scanned our beautiful Christmas tree from top to bottom. We’d picked out a tall one, Drake and I. The cathedral ceilings in our loft apartment could handle it.
Correction: Drake and his slutbag blonde girlfriend and I.
My mouth curled into a bitter frown. The tree — as beautiful as it was — was the last thing left that would remind me of him. And even worse, it would remind me of the bubbly little blonde girl who sold it to me, who also happened to be screwing my boyfriend behind my back.
FUCK. THAT.
I dropped my bag and went immediately to work, knocking the tree on its ass. Water spilled from the tree-stand. Glass ornaments hit the hardwood flooring beneath the falling pine tree’s branches, exploding out of sight with dull ‘pops.’
It took every ounce of strength to drag the tree out of there, stand and all. Pine needles flew everywhere as I pulled it through the threshold of our apartment doorway. I kept the momentum going, dragging it down the steps, past the other units on the second and ground floors, and straight out through the double doors at the end of the building’s foyer. Eventually I reached the curb, where I kicked it into the street. It stared back at me shocked and wounded, still covered with lights, garland, ornaments and all.
“There we go.”
I wiped my sap-covered hands on my thighs, then stomped off. Halfway to the door I realized something, turned around, and went back to pluck the glittery, shimmering star — my grandmother’s star — from the top of the tree.
“Not this though,” I growled at the tree. “Nice try.”
The star was old. Vintage. My mother had gifted it to me when my grandmother died; it had sat on the top of her Christmas tree for most of her life. We didn’t have many traditions in our family, and my grandmother hadn’t left very many things behind. This was important, though. I would’ve been gutted had I forgotten about it.
Back upstairs I went, passing one of the tenants on the second floor. She was one of two sisters who’d never married, and who’d lived together for most of their lives. Right now she was staring at me like I was crazy, throwing away a fully-decorated tree a few weeks before Christmas.
“Yeah, I know,” I snapped, trying my hardest not to. “I’m having a weird day.”
Three
