“Matt Sterling?” her eyes lit up. “I told you he liked you. And I know you like him too.”
You don’t know me!
“I do not! He’s got Selena Ro—”
“So! Didn’t he tell you not to believe everything you read? Maybe there’s something going on with them. You never know, but he definitely likes you.”
“I guess.”
I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that Matt Sterling could really be interested. I reasoned that he only asked me out because there were so few people on our part of the island and he wanted some company. Then again, I was still trying to come up with a legitimate reason for that kiss.
Jen and I split the cab fare and made our way up to my new apartment. The movers had placed all of my things from storage and Trump SoHo in the middle of the floor.
Jen circled the pile and crossed her arms. “I forgot you didn’t have furniture. Do you have any wine?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m definitely going to need some to get through all of this. I’m also going to need some food.”
“I can have some delivered. What do you want? Chinese?”
“That’d be cool,” she headed for the door. “I’m going to pick up some trash bags while I’m out too.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“Um, yes? Unpacking without alcohol? That’s so sophomore year.”
“I tend to forget how mature you are. Really.”
She rolled her eyes and shut the door. I walked over to the mountain of boxes and ran my hand across the labels.
I opened a box labeled “memories” and removed the bubble wrap. Inside were journals I kept in college. I flipped through one and stopped on a random page: “Dear Journal, I’m not sure about Sean. I think I love him…Okay, I’m IN LOVE with him. But do you think he’ll ever get tired of me? Like, he could have any woman he wanted yet he’s with me…I don’t want to sound like I have low self—esteem or anything but if I were on the verge of becoming a rich jewelry designer, I wouldn’t be dating a college kid…Then again he’s only four years older than me…and…Welp, gotta go! Sean’s taking me to dinner tonight!”
I sifted through the box and found pictures of the two of us smiling in Belize, swimming in Hawaii, and star gazing in Paris. There were numerous love letters from Sean, letters he sent from overseas whenever I couldn’t join him on a business trip.
At the bottom of the box was our original marriage license. It was what we both “couldn’t wait” to get and purchased three months before the wedding.
I need to get rid of all of this. Now.
I found the “electronics” box and pulled out my speakers. I dragged them next to the door and hooked up my Ipod. I scrolled down my “Fuck Sean” playlist and turned the volume up as loud as it could go.
I placed the “memories” box on the fireplace and cranked up the fire. I began dancing to the music, shouting along to each power anthem—Aretha, Adele, Tina Turner, even Beyoncé.
I crumpled the useless journal pages one by one and threw them into the fire. I held our perfect pictures over the flames and laughed as they burned.
“Break another little piece of my heart now baby!” I screamed with Janis Joplin. “Have another little piece of my heart now baby! You know you got it if it makes you feel good!”
“Melody?” Jen stopped the music and gaped at me. “I’m not even going to ask.”
Turn down the fire and avoid eye contact…
“I forgot I left the door unlocked.”
“Good thing you did or else I would’ve been standing out there all night! Have you and Janis unpacked anything?”
“Just some old memories.”
“Let’s get started then, unless you wanted to finish the song first.”
“I hate you.”
I took my time picking out new furniture. I spent countless hours visiting boutiques and department stores.
A part of me wanted to call Sean and ask for the designer who styled his condo, but I held back. The last thing I wanted to do was open a channel of communication between us.
I easily found pieces for my living room and dining space, but I couldn’t find anything amazing for my bedroom. I wanted something sleek and modern, something that reflected how much I loved New York City. I guessed summer was the time for traditional and contemporary, because the most “modern” piece I could find was an egg shaped bed with re-purposed pipes for bedposts.
After leaving another furniture store disappointed, I headed towards a newsstand. I’d refrained from reading my byline for weeks but I needed to know how Phil was handling it.
I handed the vendor a couple of ones and grabbed The New York Appeal. I skimmed the latest news stories and found “my” review of Hanging Free: “The latest film from Plum Studios is possibly the greatest thing this critic has seen in a long time. Chock full of stars—Adam Sandler, Vince Vaughn, Reese Witherspoon, and Maya Rudolph to name a few, this is one you don’t want to miss!
“Adam Sandler plays Jacob, a forty year old millionaire who just found out he has a flesh eating disorder. Since he’s accomplished everything he wanted in life, Jacob wants to spend his last days ruining the lives of everyone who ever wronged or “hated on” him. Some of these people include his twelfth grade math teacher (She awarded him a certificate that read “Class Idiot” at graduation), his mother (she traded him in a crack deal when he was fifteen), and his ex-college sweetheart (she dumped him for his best friend on his birthday).