Without a job. Without a body. Without a future. Unable to walk myself to the toilet to take a damn piss.
Iris…
I love her. With all of my heart, I love her. But in this moment, I hate Iris Merlini, too.
46
Iris
After three days of wallowing around the house in a stained T-shirt and my penguin pajama pants, I realized that I’d have to give peopling a shot sooner or later. So although everything in me is rioting to spend another day in bed feeling sorry for myself, I showered and put myself together, then drove into town.
Now, I’m sitting across a conference table from Cannon and Lexi, trying to keep my focus on what they’re saying. Their new non-profit organization is headquartered inside the Kingston Realties building in the heart of town.
Lexi gives me a soft smile. “I spoke to Sarah and Joe yesterday and they’re willing to let you volunteer at the flower shop for a few weeks to look over their shoulder, y’know, learn the ropes and decide if this is something you really want to get into before you officially put in your offer.”
All I have in response is a small nod.
“Let’s talk about marketing.” Cannon leans across the table and slides a few sheets of paper at me. “I know it sounds kind of morbid but many flower shops see a significant portion of their revenues from memorial services, so we should look at making a few calls to establish partnerships with some funeral homes in the area.”
“Okay…” I sift through the documents feeling completely overwhelmed.
“And you know I’ll send all my brides-to-be your way for their floral arrangements.” Lexi offers a smile.
“In terms of funding,” Cannon says cautiously. “You’d mentioned that you’d be proceeding with financing from Jude—”
“That’s no longer an option.” I quickly cut him off, hoping my voice doesn’t shake too much when I utter the words.
I’m proceeding on my own. Always on my own. The way it’s always been. No support. What’s new?
The married couple shares a brief glance. I clear my throat. “What are my other options?”
“If you’d like to apply for a bank loan, our organization would help with the application process and we’d be willing to co-sign. If that doesn’t work, we have other options such as our own internal funding.”
Cannon and Lexi continue detailing all available avenues for securing the cash needed. I try to pay attention but my brain won’t cooperate. All I can think about is Jude and how this flower shop is a project we dreamt up together. We were going to take this on as a team. But now, he won’t even talk to me. He won’t take my calls. He has every right to be angry with me. Still, it hurts.
My friends are doing me a huge favor by meeting with me to discuss my proposed business venture. This meeting is a golden opportunity. My sandwich shop failed largely because I didn’t have the guidance to make sound choices. But this time could be different. Cannon has successfully run a billion-dollar enterprise and Lexi has a natural knack for creative business ideas. Their time is valuable and I don’t want to waste it. The least I could do is make a meaningful contribution to the conversation. But I don’t know how to concentrate when all I can think of is Jude.
Coming to grips with the fact that someone you love actually hates you will do that to you. My heart is broken, and after all the loss I’ve suffered recently, I’m not sure this poor lump of muscle will ever heal properly.
The day Jude was injured by Kirk has become my single worst day. It overshadows the moment I found out Kirk was cheating on me. It overshadows the day he served me with divorce papers.
Of all my shitty days, it’s the day of that stupid, pointless fight that leaves me with nightmares. I spend all my time replaying what I could have done, what I should have done to save Jude from what happened.
I can’t decide which part was worse, watching the brutal, one-sided fight, or hearing the doctor share the devastating news with all of Jude’s family. His career is over. Because of me.
I keep reliving that night at the hospital. Before the doctor even finished sharing the news with the Kingstons, I was rushing to a trashcan near the coffee station and puking my guts out.
That night, I stayed at the hospital long after his brothers all cleared out. I even outlasted Jude’s parents, after they had come back from their tense visit with him. I’d never seen so much pity on a woman’s face before Diana looked at me and shook her head. I remained in the waiting room, sleeping in a small, stiff chair, even knowing that Jude didn’t want to see me. He refused to even let me step foot in his hospital room.
I singlehandedly ruined his life, and now he wants nothing to do with me. I guess I understand his need for distance.
My mind flutters over every moment from the past weeks, each memory hurting more than the last.
Our first kiss standing in the dark, shadowy hallway of my house. Our first time together, against the picture window. Working together at my kitchen table. Exercising and making love in my living room. Jude painting my toenails red, before fucking me in my bed.
It’s funny how many years I spent with my ex, and yet, just a short time with Jude has replaced all of the special memories in my home. I am unable to open my eyes without being hit with a gut-wrenching reminders of our time together.
I’m mad at Jude for deserting me, but so hurt and guilty for what he is going through. I just want to be there for him. To ease his suffering in any way I
