“I can tell.” She eyes me skeptically. “What’s with this?” Her hands wave in front of me, and I look down at my sloppy sweatshirt and dirty jeans.
“I don’t know; it’s been a long two weeks.” I shrug and tuck my unbrushed hair behind my ears.
“You’re obviously going through a funk again. Hardin did something new, or is it still from London?” Kimberly raises an arched brow, reminding me of how overgrown mine must be. Plucking and waxing have been the farthest thing from my mind, but Kimberly is one of those women that make you want to be pretty all the time to keep up with her.
“Not exactly. Well, he just did what he always does in London, but I finally told him we are done.” Seeing the skepticism in her blue eyes, I add, “I mean it. I’m thinking of moving to New York.”
“New York? What the hell? With Hardin?” Her mouth falls open. “Oh, never mind—you just told me you broke up.” She smacks her hand to her forehead in a dramatic display.
“With Landon, actually. He’s going to NYU, and he asked me to come along. I’m going to take the summer and hopefully be able to get into NYU in the fall.”
She laughs. “Wow, I need a minute.”
“It’s a big change. I know. It’s just that I . . . well, I need to get away from here, and with Landon already going, it just made sense.” It’s insane, completely insane, to just move across the country, and Kimberly’s reaction proves that.
“You don’t have to explain to me. I think it’s a really good idea—I’m just surprised.” Kim doesn’t even try to control her smirk. “You, moving across the country without a schedule or taking a year to plan things out.”
“It’s stupid, right? Isn’t it?” I ask, not sure of what I’m hoping to hear.
“No! Since when are you so unsure about yourself? Girl, I know you’ve been through a lot of shit, but you need to get it together. You’re young, brilliant, and beautiful. Life is not that bad! Hell, try cleaning the burn wounds of your fiancé after he covered for his surprise grown-ass son because he’d just cheated on you with his”—she curls her fingers into air quotes and rolls her eyes—“ ‘long-lost love’ and having to nurse him while you really just want to choke him out.”
I don’t know if she meant to be funny, but I have to bite my tongue to stop from laughing at the picture she’s created in my head. But when she chuckles a little, I follow suit.
“Seriously, it’s okay to be sad, but if you let sadness control your life, you’ll never have one.” Her words hit me somewhere between my selfish whining and my nerves over moving to New York without a solid plan.
She’s right; I’ve been through a lot in the last year, but what good will it do to be this way? To feel the sadness and sting of loss with every thought? As much as I loved the ease of feeling nothing, I didn’t feel like myself. I felt my being slipping with each negative thought, and I was beginning to fear that I would never be myself again. I’m still not now, but maybe one day?
“I know you’re right, Kim. I just don’t know how to stop. I’m just so mad all the time.” I ball my fists, and she nods. “Or sad. There’s a lot of sad, and pain. I don’t know how to separate it, and now it’s eating away at me, taking over my mind.”
“Well, it’s not as easy as I just tried to make it sound, but, first of all, you need to get excited. You are moving to New York, girl! Act like it. If you go around moping up the streets of New York City, you’ll never make any friends.” She smiles, softening her words.
“And what if I can’t? Like, what if I just always feel this way?”
“Then you’ll always feel that way. That’s that, but you can’t think that way right now. I’ve learned in my years”—she grins—“not too many years, mind you, but I’ve learned that shit happens and you move on. It sucks, and trust me, I know this is about Hardin. It’s always about Hardin, but you need to accept the fact that he won’t give you what you want and need, and try your best to pretend you are moving on. If you can fool him and everyone else, you will eventually believe it, too, and it’ll become real.”
“Do you think I could? You know, ever really get over him?” I twist my fingers in my lap.
“I’ll go ahead and lie to you because it’s what you need to hear right now.” Kimberly walks over to the cabinet and pulls out two wineglasses. “You need to hear a lot of bullshit and praise at this point. There is always time to face the truth later, but for now . . .” She rummages through the drawer just below the sink and pulls out a corkscrew. “Now, we drink wine and I’ll tell you all kinds of breakup stories that will make yours seem like child’s play.”
“The horror movie?” I ask, knowing she meant the opposite of that creepy redheaded doll.
“No, smart-ass.” She smacks my thigh. “I’m talking I know women who were married for years and their husbands banged their sisters. That kind of crazy shit will make you realize you don’t have it that bad.”
A glass full of white wine is placed in front of me, and just as I am about to object, Kimberly raises it and presses it to my lips.
A bottle and a half later, I am laughing and leaning on the counter for support. Kimberly has gone through an amazing array of crazy relationships, and I’ve finally stopped checking my phone every ten seconds. Hardin doesn’t have my phone number anyway, I keep reminding myself. Of course, this is Hardin we are talking about; if he wants the number, he will find a way to get it.