Page 75 of Beautiful Trauma
“Eight thirty,” I replied.
“I’d like to meet with you both today to discuss our strategy,” Mom said.
“That’s another problem, but I’m hoping Dad can help me out. Will you hand him the phone?”
“He wants to talk to you, Paul,” Mom said.
“Ezra, is everything okay?” Dad asked, sounding worried.
“Not quite, but I have a plan.” Then I told him about my grand gesture and explained how he could help me.
Dad laughed heartily and said, “Attaboy, Ezra.”
SLEEP WAS NIL.APPETITE WASzilch. Desire to leave my bed was nonexistent. I couldn’t force myself to sleep, but I dragged myself out of bed once the sun came up, got dressed, and started a pot of coffee before making scrambled eggs. I was doing the one-step-in-front-of-the-other thing that saw me through my last heartbreak. I was proud of my effort until I pulled a jar of Simone’s razzleberry jam out of the refrigerator to smear on my English muffin and promptly burst into tears.
I texted Maria to let her know I had a really late night and wouldn’t be riding to church with her and Esther. She assumed I was exhausted for good reasons and shot back a winking emoji.
“I wish,” I said out loud in the tiny apartment kitchen.
Nervous energy pulsed through me, and I had to find a way to work some of it out of my system. I tried meditation, but none of the techniques I tried muted the buzzing in my brain. I didn’t feel up to facing people and wanted to avoid the gym. Cleaning the apartment from top to bottom seemed like the best way to wear myself out enough so I could get some sleep. I popped in my earbuds but the first song that came on when I was stripping my bed was “I Like Me Better.” After another round of tears, I decided music wasn’t a good idea either, so I flipped on the small television in my room. It seemed like every movie Ezra and I had watched over the past two months was playing on various cable channels. I wanted to view the song and the movie selection as signs Ezra and I were supposed to be together, but hoping had only led me to heartbreak. I shut the television off and laid the remote on the coffee table.
“No music or movies,” I said. “Guess I’ll have to rely on my inner dialogue to entertain myself while I clean.”
“Your external dialogue with yourself is entertaining the hell out of me,” Jess said, catching me off guard.
I whipped around and found her leaning in my bedroom doorway with a smirk on her face. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re adorable, Henry.”
I snorted. “If you say so.”
“Why don’t you just call Ezra?” Jess asked. “I’m sure you can work this out.”
“I don’t want him throwing away his life for me, Jess. He’ll resent it.”
“I call bullshit. That man is crazy about you.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You were ready to skin him alive a few hours ago. What’s changed?”
Jess shrugged casually. “I’ve seen the light.”
“What?”
“New day; new perspective. Haven’t you learned any of that in your new age practices?”
“Meditation and yoga have been around a long time,” I countered. “What’s really—”Beep. Beep.I whipped my head toward my bedroom window. “What’s that? It sounds like a horn.”Beep. Beep. Beep.It got louder, then I noticed the hum of a small engine. “What the hell?” I asked.
Jessie started giggling. “I guess you better go see.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.“What’s this jackass doing?” I groused when I looked out the window. “Some idiot is steering an ancient scooter down the alleyway with one hand and holding a bouquet of flowers in the other.”
“Who is it?” Jess asked.
“I can’t tell. He’s wearing a helmet.” The white scooter stopped just beneath my fire escape, and my heart recognized the identity of the rider before my brain could comprehend. Ezra killed the engine and climbed off the scooter then removed his helmet. He looked as tired as I felt, but Ezra’s smile was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I opened the window and climbed out onto the rickety-looking fire escape.
“Hello, Henry,” he said in the voice I loved.