CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Heather could hear her parents arguing in the next room. She didn’t have to eavesdrop to know they were arguing about her.
I should never have come home,she thought, stretching out on the double bed in what had once been her bedroom, and covering her ears with her pillow. Still, what was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go?
After her outburst at Noah’s office, she’d been too overwrought to return to work, so she’d called to say she was sick and wouldn’t be back till morning. (“Food poisoning?” Kendall had asked with such obvious disbelief that Heather could almost see her eyebrows rise.) Then she’d gone to a movie, where she’d consumed an entire bucket of buttered popcorn along with a giant Coke, all the while rehearsing under her breath what she’d say to Noah when she returned to their apartment. (“Do you mind keeping your voice down?” a woman had turned around in her seat and muttered. To which Heather had replied, “Screw you.”)
Heather knew that Noah would be angry, and that she needed to be prepared. Yes, she would tell him calmly, she understood she’d embarrassed him, and she was truly sorry about that. But he’d embarrassed her, too. Yes, she understood she might have gone too far, but so had he. And yes, maybe she was guilty of overreacting. But only because she loved him so much, and because he’d hurt her so badly. Surely he could see that he bore at least some of the responsibility for her lashing out the way she had. If he hadn’t kissed her cousin, if he hadn’t lied to her about it, if his indiscretion hadn’t been captured on camera, if her coworkers hadn’t taunted her with it…
She was well prepared for the mix of harsh words and stony silence that would undoubtedly follow, suspecting it could be days, even weeks, before he understood her side of the story, or he got sufficiently horny, for things between them to return to normal.
What she wasn’t prepared for was to find all her belongings in three giant garbage bags outside their apartment door. What she hadn’t expected was the note taped to the door telling her in no uncertain terms that their relationship was over and that if she dared to come inside or cause any kind of scene, he would call the police and have her arrested.
What she hadn’t expected was to have to spend the night in a hotel, albeit the Four Seasons, while she figured out her next move, or to go into work the next morning only to be unceremoniously escorted out. “I’m being fired?” she’d asked, as the security guard waited in the aisle for her to clear out her desk. “I don’t believe this!”
“I don’t believe you’re surprised,” came Kendall’s retort.
“You and Noah broke up?” her mother exclaimed when she showed up at her parents’ home in Weston later that day, garbage bags in tow.
“You lost your job,” her father said, as if he’d known all along this would happen.
“I’m thinking of suing,” Heather told them.
To which they’d said nothing at all.
I should never have come home,she thought again. Except she couldn’t stay at the Four Seasons forever. She couldn’t afford even one more night. Her credit cards were already maxed out and she’d just lost her fucking job. The severance check they’d handed her on her way out the door wouldn’t last long. Sure, she could apply for unemployment, but that could take months to come through. Meanwhile, the thought of looking for another job made both her head and her stomach ache. She needed time to relax, recoup, regroup, and decompress. Maybe take a little vacation. A beach or a spa would be ideal. She’d start job-hunting when summer was over.
Her father had proved less than sympathetic to her plans. He’d given her a week—a week!—to get her act together, and it was already Wednesday. Would he follow through on his threat to kick her out if she didn’t at least make an effort to look for work?
“I’m working on my tan,” she’d told him defiantly, tossing her pillow to the floor and climbing out of bed, deciding she should at least get out of her pajamas. It was almost noon, and the backyard awaited.
She checked her phone for messages, but there was still nothing from Noah, and her only emails were from a Calvin Klein outlet store and Walmart, both of which she sent directly to Trash. “Shit.” She’d hoped that Noah would have come to his senses by now. Not that she would be so quick to take him back—she’d decided to let him squirm for a while—but still…
There was a knock on her bedroom door.
“Shit,” she said again, her head collapsing toward her chest.
“Heather?” her mother called. “Are you up?”
“Yes, Mother. Just heading into the shower.”
“Well, when you’re done, your father would like to talk to you.”
“Shit!” Heather said, louder this time.
“What’s that?” her mother asked.
“I said ‘sure thing.’ Give me ten minutes.”
“We’ll be in the den.”
“Can’t wait.”
“What?”
“I’ll be there.” She listened until her mother’s footsteps had disappeared down the hall before entering her bathroom and turning on the shower. “Shit,” she said again, sensing another lecture. She positioned her body directly under the torrent of hot water, repeating the word at the top of her lungs: “Shit, shit, shit, shit,shit!”
—