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Two
Cora
I can’t breathe. Literally.
A block from Gavin’s hotel, I turn onto a small side street and shift my car into park. The engine idles quietly as I rest my forehead against the steering wheel. Tears flood my eyes and blur the world around me. Violent sobs wrack my body as I lose all sense of composure. With every breath I try to inhale, the emotional boulder in my throat grows larger and heavier.
He said it isn’t real. That this supposed engagement is a farce. A fallacy. Said she is only a friend. Just a friend. Nothing more. But if all of what he said is true, why do I feel like this? Empty. Broken. Shattered. Desolate.
Why do I feel as if I have just lost the one person who makes me whole? The one person who soothes the ache. Makes me smile. Mends the wounds once created from his loss. A loss he had zero control over.
I replay snippets of the conversation in my head, trying to find truth in Gavin’s words. Trying to listen to what he said. Really listen. Because the moment she announced their supposed relationship, the world spun off its axis. I wobbled. Stumbled backward in time. Back to a time when vows were made. To the day he left and promised to return, but abandoned me for more than a decade.
He swears he and this other woman are not in a relationship. That he and this other woman are not betrothed. That they are just friends. Only friends. But why would Gavin’s friend say such things? Cruel words meant to inflict pain. To make me suffer.
As is, my memory is one huge blob of confusion right now. It mixes in words and visuals from various conversations. Mingles them like partygoers. And I hate it. Hate that I don’t know what is real and what is artifice. I have no way of knowing what memory is fact or fable.
So how can I decipher what to believe and what to disregard? And how the hell will I handle what happens next? I just don’t know. Can’t think past what just happened or the laceration in my heart.
The one thing I do know with absolute certainty is I cannot sit on this beach another minute, crying my eyes out. Sooner or later, a cop will tell me to move along. Tell me I cannot be parked here because I don’t have a permit. Who cares if I cry so hard I risk an accident. Who cares if I have a meltdown and can’t feel my limbs.
And with that, another round of sobs takes hold. I let it out, fishing a napkin from my glove compartment to blow my nose and dry some of the tears. When my cries slightly settle and I can breathe a little, I decide going home isn’t the best option.
I grab my purse from the passenger seat and dig out my cell phone. With shaky hands, I unlock the phone and call Shelly. The ringing blares in my ear while I attempt to stop crying altogether. On the third ring, Shelly answers.
“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” Shelly cajoles.
I don’t answer right away as I still work to control my tears and breathing. But it is no use and I start blubbering like a baby. The semi-composed state I was in moments ago vanishes.
“Cora?” she beckons, panic edging her voice. “Cora, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I… I’m… Shelly…” I fumble, my words a mess of inconsistency. Just like my head. Just like my heart. “Shelly, can I… can I come over?” I manage to frame the question around my sobs.
“Oh my god! Are you okay, Cora? What’s happening?”
She still hasn’t answered my question. Please just tell me to come over. Just tell me it is okay. Not that I really need an invitation to her house, but I don’t want to intrude if she has plans.
“Shelly, please. Please can I come over?” I plead through my incessant tears and sobs. I wish the blubbering would just stop. It hurts. Every muscle and bone and organ just hurts.
“Yes, of course you can. Are you okay to drive? I can pick you up.”
As tempting as her offer is, if I leave my car on the beach it will get impounded. And that is a whole separate nightmare I don’t need. Bad enough my heart is in shambles, I don’t need to have automobile and financial issues too. Shelly lives in a small one-bedroom in Largo, and I should be able to make it there in twenty minutes. If I collect myself mentally, driving to her house shouldn’t be an issue. It won’t take long. Then I can let it all go again.
“You don’t need to come and get me. I’m leaving Clearwater Beach. Should be there in twenty to thirty, depending on the traffic.”
“Cora, you’ve got me worried. Did something happen? Are you okay? Is Gavin okay?”
Just hearing his name brings about a new bout of tears. My chest caves in on itself as my heart shrivels and lungs forget how to function. Breathe Cora.
“I’ll tell you when I get to your house. See you soon.”
And before she can say or ask anything else, I disconnect the call. If I plan to make it to her house in one piece, I need to clear my head as much as possible. Her infinite questions won’t help matters. She can ask them all when I get to her place.
I sit unmoving in the car another couple minutes, taking deep breaths and attempting to refocus on physical objects.
A man walks his dog on the sidewalk. The neon signs across the street promote beer and pizza and a live band. A child swings wildly between her parents as they head into a seafood restaurant. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just remember to breathe, Cora. The flash of the pedestrian crossing sign lights up. An older woman rides by on a tricycle with colorful lights.
Once calm enough to drive, I turn the car around, drive off the beach and head in the direction of Shelly’s place.
