'After a breakup with a guy I considered the love of my life, I went a little nuts. I moved out after a swift series of events that culminated in the discovery that he’d cheated on me with a woman he sold a blender to on eBay'
Illustration: J. V. Aranda After a breakup with a guy I considered the love of my life, I went a little nuts. He and I had been living together, but I moved out after a swift series of events that culminated in the discovery that he’d cheated on me with a woman he sold a blender to on eBay.
At the big red house, my roommates and I sunbathed by a slate-lined creek and painted watercolor portraits of each other. When alone, I wrote sad essay fragments and never-to-be-sent letters, devoured a list of books, and waited for time to pass. I practiced a lot of yoga and whatever else I could file under healing. I read about the chakras and did exercises to open mine. I became addicted to the StairMaster at the gym, dependent on endorphins to propel me through the day.
I was the one to text him after that, inviting him over to the big red house to build a fire in the wood-burning stove. It was the first snowfall of the season, and I sent a list of instructions. “When you get here come around to the back on the left side of the house. The stairs might be icy. We never use the front door. Also my car is parked near the mouth of the driveway because it’s not shoveled. You can pull up on the other side. It’s a horseshoe.
My family visited for Thanksgiving a few days later. “Have you met any nice men up here lately?” my mother, the incredibly patient receiver of my once-frequent crying phone calls, asked. I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, and replied, “How can you tell?” Gauges and I spent the winter together. We drove through the Berkshires in the snow to see James Turrell’s light installations at MASS MOCA. We ice-skated with his friends and their girlfriends, all bundled in coats and sweaters. We cozied up in the big red house, and made each other laugh hard, steadily building a repertoire of shared jokes. Although I occasionally fantasized that he could be, I did not think finding Gauges was the fated reason why I had endured all of my heartbreaks past.
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