He’d packed every fucking thing he owned, down to that damn toothbrush. That fucker would remain in its rightful place on the bathroom counter next to mine, where it belonged. Chris never took his toothbrush when he “needed space.” He’d disappear for a day or two, but not his toothbrush. That’s what I’d told myself until I spotted the toothbrush holder with only one left in it.Īnd I’d known. “Maybe he just needs some time to cool off.” Then I guess I don’t love you enough for this shit, Jules. The last words we said to each other were the biggest blow, and they torpedo through my mind now. Will the tears ever stop? I’ve been heaving sobs since Chris made it clear no amount of bargaining or begging would stop him from leaving. Shaking my head with a sniffle, I dash the salty despair from my face. The pain of the morning leaks from my eyes, no matter how hard I try to hold it back. Even so, just the fact that she’s here when she has somewhere else to be warms my aching heart a little. But everyone knows she can be on the self-important side. “Chris told me you guys broke up.” Her perfect brows furrow in sympathy, but the tone of her voice belies her words. “Oh, Jules.” She crosses to where I’m sitting on the bed, and the mattress dips under her weight as she settles next to me. I wipe my eyes, hoping she’s in a rush on this Sunday morning and won’t notice that I’m falling apart at the seams.
She’s not wearing any makeup, so I figure she must be on her way to a photo shoot. She’s put-together as always despite her ebony hair twisting into a messy bun. My sister stands in the hall, somehow impervious to the heat that’s making me sweat buckets. The footfalls halt, and someone pushes the door all the way open. I know it isn’t him-I fucking know it-but my naive heart speeds up anyway.
Footsteps pad down the hall, and I curse that sliver of hope that makes my breath catch in my lungs. It doesn’t help that the air conditioner decided to take a crap yesterday.įisting my hands over my chest, I watch the bedroom door-the one he left ajar when he stormed from my life an hour ago. It’s ten in the morning, but the temperature has risen to a humid ninety degrees, thanks to Oklahoma summer heat. I hear the front door of my apartment creak open, and the sound busts through my pain-induced neurosis.
I can’t see past it, and the idea of going on with this gaping hole in my soul seems impossible. Clutching my chest, I stumble from the bathroom back to my pitiful spot on the bed, but nothing lessens the sobs holding me hostage to this devastation. No, that missing toothbrush obliterates me, scattering any chance of hope I have that he’ll come back. The absence of it rips a hole in my heart. It all comes down to a fucking toothbrush.
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