Corinne Michaels - Beloved

“Why fight what we both know isn’t going to work?”

I step back, shaken by his words. And then it sinks in: he’s not here to make it right; he came here to end it. To further damage my beaten heart—the heart he bruised and battered with his infidelity.

“This is why you’re here? To tell me this. Now?” I ask with fear choking me.

His voice is empty as the words tumble out of his mouth. “What we have just isn’t enough, Catherine. It’s better this way.”

Without another word he turns and walks away, ending the last five years of what I thought was the beginning of our life together. The elevator door closes and my heart shatters into a million pieces. Broken. This can’t be happening. We were getting married. We were going to have children, a life, a future! No!

I gasp for air, trying to fill my suffocating lungs. Ashton opens the door and pulls me inside while I lose everything I ever thought mattered.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” She holds me close to her chest. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmurs quietly in my ear.

There is nothing to hold me together as I crumble to the ground in complete devastation.

Not enough.

All over again.

~Three months later~

“Ever wonder what makes these people think they’re going to find love on these stupid reality shows?” Ashton asks as she plops on the couch next to me.

We’re watching another episode of this show where random women try to find their one true love through a series of dates with multiple people.

“No. But maybe we should sign up since the traditional route isn’t working so much.” I laugh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

It’s a three-day weekend and we’ve been lazy, drinking wine and watching trashy television and movies. After spending the first month post-breakup wallowing, Ashton put her foot down and forced me to function outside of work. I believed my life was just beginning and there was a happily ever after in sight, but I should’ve known better. This is real life: there is no prince charming, and I’m definitely not a princess. No more illusions of fairy-tale endings. He’s gone, and I’m alone.

“Could you imagine? All these girls are hot too. They’re dumb, but at least they’re pretty. Your company should represent them.”

“I don’t represent celebrities, Ash. You know that. I like being a publicist in the business world. Way less drama dealing with companies versus people.” She tries to snatch the ice cream but I move it out of her grasp. “Can we change the channel? Let’s watch something about blowing people up, or shooting people! I have no desire to watch people fall in love. I’d rather pretend everyone’s miserable like me,” I say, grabbing for the remote as my phone vibrates with a text.

Ashton slaps my hand. “Don’t change the channel. I want to see her cry and be all sad when he picks the other idiot.”

“You don’t want to watch the other girl be happy?”

“Are you crazy? This is better than watching someone get blown up!” Ashton sits up, animated and excited. “She’s going to be all ‘I thought what we had was real.’ We can change it after the first girl gets dumped.” She looks down at the phone and her jaw falls slack. “Neil’s still texting you?”

“If so many people didn’t have my number for work purposes, I’d change it.” I groan and grab the phone.

For two weeks after he chose another woman, I didn’t hear a word from him. Then I started getting periodic text messages. Initially I thought he was concerned, considering he broke my heart and ran over it a few times with an eighteen-wheeler. However, I figured out pretty quickly that he wanted something. His texts were usually about issues with cancelling wedding vendors. But lately, his texting has become more frequent and has focused on us exchanging belongings.

Neil: I have a few things I found of yours. Also, I think I left some stuff at your place.

I’m sure he did, but a few weeks after I found him and Piper together, I burned it. I took everything and anything I could find of his and set it on fire.

At first, I wanted to hold on to anything that was his. Even with how our breakup happened, I loved him. A part of me hoped we could reconnect, find a way to get past everything and move forward. But he never called. I held on to the false ideas of what our life was like—how we loved once and how wonderful he had been. All of those memories I latched on to so tight, hoping if I squeezed hard enough, they’d be enough. But they weren’t.

“You know none of this is your fault, right? He did all of this,” Ashton says while snatching the ice cream from my grasp.

“I know, I know. I want to stop thinking about him and move on, but he was my life for five years. I hate him so much, but then there’s this small piece of me that won’t let go.”

The worst part was when I was depressed. I was barely eating, forgetting things all the time, and the tears were pretty much constant. Days were lost like that. Work was the only place I could function, the only place that wasn’t tainted by memories of Neil and Piper. I could be me there, or at least some semi-normal version of me.

Now I’m in the anger stage, which is working out just fine. Every time I’ve had to explain why I cancelled the wedding, I’ve relived what he did. It’s been humiliating. I’d rather deal with a hundred rabid reporters than call my family to explain how my fiancé cheated and then broke up with me because he needed “more.” I remember the way he was so callous, so emotionless. The Neil I fell in love with wasn’t the same person at the end.

The memory floods back, barreling through my anger, which quickly morphs into sadness as I recall the pain. A tear forms, but I swipe it away before it can descend. Crying is for the weak, and I will not let him break me again.

Ashton smiles and places her hand on mine. “I’m sure there’s a part of you that will always love him. But I’ll help you hold on to the hate because that’s the only emotion that douchebag is worthy of.” Her blue eyes are blazing.

“I know, Ash. I’m …” I try to find the right words. The bottom line is I’m not really sure what I am anymore. At first I worked so hard to hide it all, putting it aside so I could continue on with my life, not wanting anyone to see how badly it hurt. No one wants to be the girl that was stood up at the altar—even though we never made it there, the context is the same.

Her jaw sets and she narrows her eyes, trying to ensure that I’m listening as she says, “I say the prick did you a favor. Guys like him are never content. He would’ve done it sooner or later.”

“I’m tired. All I want is to enjoy our weekend and not think about him anymore.” I sigh and lay my head in Ashton’s lap. “It’ll get easier, won’t it?” I ask with a touch of hope.

She stares back and shakes her head. “It’s already easier. One day you won’t be sad or angry, you’ll only feel pity for him.”

“I’d like that day to be now. And I’d like him to stop texting me.” I half laugh.

Ashton swipes the hair off my face with a sad smile. “Do you remember in high school when I swore I was going to marry Stephen? I thought he was perfect. I mean he was the captain of the football team, smart, funny, fucked like an animal.” Her arched brow rises with amusement.

I laugh. “Yes, I remember Stephen the Stallion.”

I used to laugh so hard when she would call him that. She thought she’d marry him based solely on his ability to do things to her she never knew were actually possible. He doted on her, but we later found out he had a few other girls who were also receiving the benefits of his talents.

“What I wouldn’t give for another ride on that pony.” She reminisces, laughing as she returns her attention to me. “I digress. My point is he was the one who lost out. I didn’t cry. I punched him in the face, walked away, and found myself a better horse to ride.”

“I didn’t want another horse, Ash. I thought I’d finally found my white knight,” I say as a flash of loneliness stabs through my heart.

Ashton isn’t the wallowing type. She breaks up, moves on, and finds greener pastures. I’ve seen her go through her share of breakups, but she always bounces back quickly. Thing is, she doesn’t know what it’s like to get engaged, plan a wedding, and think you’re going to spend your life with someone only to have it all taken away from you.

“Well your horse wound up being a donkey. Time to put his ass where it belongs—outside.”

She’s crazy, but I love her. I smile, shaking my head at another one of her off-the-wall retorts. “You and your metaphors.”

“Okay, enough of this. Tonight’s Gretchen’s birthday. We need to get ready,” Ashton says and slaps my ass. “We have dinner plans in the city.”

“Crap!” I say, sitting up quickly. I haven’t seen Gretchen since my engagement party. She, Ashton, and I grew up together. We’ve been friends since we were eight. Gretchen lives in Manhattan and even though Ash and I work in the city, we live in New Jersey, so we barely see her.

“You better not try to back out.” She glares indignantly.

I raise my hands in mock surrender. “I’m not. I forgot. I’ll go get ready.”

“That’s my biffle!” She jumps up off the couch with a gleam in her blue eyes.

“Don’t call me that around Gretchen. You know how she feels about it since ‘she’s our best friend for life too,’” I say, imitating Gretchen’s sweet voice. She gets a little touchy when she feels we’re not including her.

Ashton grins. “She’ll be fine. I’ll call her now and let her know we’re taking a train in. Go! Move it, sister!” She grabs my hand, pulls me up, and pushes me toward my room. “We don’t have time for your shenanigans. Now go take a shower. You smell!”

“You’re a real bitch and I hate you,” I lie.

“Well, I love your smelly ass.” She giggles and runs off.

“I do not smell!” I say to her back. Then I head into my room to start getting ready.

An hour later, Ashton busts through my door looking breathtaking. She’s wearing her long hair pin straight, the fiery red strands compliment the emerald top she has on. Her black eyeliner makes her blue eyes look bolder, bring out the cobalt in the depths of her irises.

I’m wearing my dark blue dress paired with my four-inch silver stilettos. At least I’ll get an extra few inches on my five-foot-four, vertically challenged self. Ashton and Gretchen were both graced with being tall and slender, so I always feel tiny around them. My makeup is minimal, but I spent extra time curling my long brown hair into loose curls, which tumble down my back.

“Well hello, sexy! Where have you been hiding? You don’t look like you’ll be turning the big three-oh in a few months.” She nudges me as she appraises my outfit.

Maybe I have been hiding, pretending things were okay while I was finding a way to be on my own. But today is a new day.

“I’ll forever remain twenty-nine, thank you very much.”

“Sure you will. And I’m still a virgin.” She laughs and grabs the eye shadow from my bag.

My phone buzzes again.

Neil: I’ll be around tomorrow if you can meet.

I decide to respond because he’s apparently not taking the hint, no matter how hard I try.

Me: No. I’m busy.

“I’m changing my damn number.”

Ashton grabs my phone and powers it off. “No phone. No Neil. You, my love, are beautiful and we’re going to focus on that!” She places a kiss on my cheek and heads out to finish getting ready.

Dressed to the nines and excited to be going out tonight—though I’ll never admit that to Ashton—I look for the finishing touches. I rifle through the beautiful mahogany jewelry box that my father gave me for my ninth birthday. I finally find my diamond studs and go to close the lid, but my eyes get caught on the light shimmering off my engagement ring snuggly sitting in the ring slot. I pull it out and look at it, remembering all the promise it once held, before putting it back in its place.

After my breakup with Neil, I started wearing a sapphire ring instead. When I took off my beautiful diamond engagement ring, my finger felt awkward, naked. Ashton convinced me that I deserved an apology gift, and since Neil and I still had a joint bank account, we went and spent a little of his money. It’s a one-carat sapphire surrounded by diamonds in a platinum setting. It’s vintage and beautiful. We call it the “Fuck You” ring.

“Let’s go, Catherine! Dinner’s in an hour and we have to get into Manhattan,” Ashton yells from the hall.