“Hmm?”
“I’ve been considering getting a tattoo.”
Zach had been delivering a bite of mint chip to his mouth but paused mid-arm raise. “A tattoo? That’s a little out of left field, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly. I’ve always kind of wanted one, even when I was in college. I just never pulled the trigger. It was a ‘someday’ sort of thing. Then, when I was with Henri, he completely vetoed the idea, so I gave up even thinking about it.”
“Okay.” Zach steepled his fingers. “I’m not a tattoo guy, but hey, it’s your skin if you want to get one.”
“You say that so lightly, but you have no idea how hard it has been to take back my body. Henri wouldhateme getting a tattoo.”
“I don’t think that’s a good reason to permanently disfigure yourself.”
“It’s not disfigurement.” I laughed. “I’m not gonna get a winky emoji or something stupid like that. It’ll be something beautiful. Meaningful. And it’s not about Henri. Knowing he wouldn’t approve is just a pleasant bonus.”
“Like I said, it’s your body, doll. The more you imbibe that, the better you’ll be. Do you have any ideas about a design?”
“No. I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Then I looked at the wooden lotus sitting proudly on the table. “But I’m starting to feel inspired.”
Zach had leftfor Hal’s by the time I snatched my phone off the counter. I took it into my room and sat on the bed, moving the pillows to create a wall behind my back to lean against. I palmed the device, flipping it nervously several times before pressing my thumb against the power button and bracing for whatever might come. As it fired up, I heard the familiar pings alerting me there were texts waiting. Pushing aside the knot of dread in my stomach, I was pleasantly surprised to see happy birthday messages from a few old college acquaintances, as well as one from Larry, Hal’s grumpy owner.
But, of course, Henri’s name also popped up. And there were more than a few messages.
February 12, 2014
8:01 p.m.
HENRI:Darling I really hope you’ll call and let me wish you a happy birthday for real. I miss your beautiful voice. I’m so sorry about everything.
8:04 p.m.
HENRI:Remember your 29thbirthday? I took you to Hawaii. Bought you that silver necklace. I hope you’ll remember things like that and call me back.
10:58 p.m.
HENRI:How long are you going to keep punishing me? I miss you so much. We belong together. I’m never going to love anyone like I love you, and I don’t think you’re ever going to love anyone as much as me either. Why are you just throwing us away?
11:31 p.m.
HENRI:I’ve gotta be honest. I am impressed at how long you’ve gone without talking to me. But I think it’s time, don’t you? You owe me a conversation, Sadie. We were together a long time. I deserve a conversation.
February 13, 2014
5:06 a.m.
HENRI:Sorry about that last one. I am trying to give you space. But it’s hard. We belong together. It was just one fucking mistake. Do I deserve to be punished forever because of one fucking mistake?
6:52 a.m.
HENRI:*Happy Birthday GIF of Michael Scott at his desk*
7:22 a.m.
HENRI:I love you so much. I’m never gonna stop. I wish I was there for your birthday. I want to be with you so badly. I miss you.
I looked down at my phone. I read the messages. Then I read them again. And again. After that, I indulged in one of my favorite recent hobbies—responding to Henri’s texts in my mind. I put my phone down, so I wouldn’t be tempted to let any of my feelings come out of my fingertips, but goddamn, did I get murderous with my thoughts.
Miss my beautiful voice? When did you even once tell me you liked my voice? My twenty-ninth birthday? You mean the one in Hawaii where you worked the whole time and bought me the world’s ugliest necklace, telling me I had “lowbrow” taste for preferring the cool beaded one sold by the beach? Punishing you? Seriously? I’m the one who got humiliated. I’m the one who was lied to! And I didn’t throw us away, asshole. You did that all on your own when you got your dick wet outside the house. And apparently forgot a condom. How about the three days I spent sweating, waiting for test results to make sure you hadn’t given me some terrible STI? Owe you a conversation? I don’t owe you shit. One fucking mistake? No. Just no. Letting the car run out of gas on the highway. That’s a mistake. Putting sour cream on your bagel because you grab the wrong container from the fridge. That’s a mistake. Having a celebratory fuck with the HR intern after closing a big deal because your girlfriend has her period isn’t a mistake. It’s a fucking fork in the road. For all of us.