it all wrapped up: the cozy little house, the gorgeous daughter, the loving husband who’d adored her ever since she was 19.
What did Annie know about heartbreak? Lila thought miserably as she made her way further down the street. What did Annie know about making it on your own? Lila dug her hands, clad in matching green mittens that her Gram had knit for her, deep into her pockets.
Crossing the street away from the shops, Lila walked along the side next to the ocean. Gray mist snarled among the waves, crashing up and swirling among the rocks. She paused to stare out moodily into the deep. What she needed was some sort of cape to complete the picture, black and swirling around her. Someone could see her from a distance and ask, “Who is that woman in the cape?” Another would answer, “That’s old Spinster Clark. She lives out on Point Doom with 13 cats.”
With embarrassment, Lila remembered she’d actually worn a cape on a visit to Annie a couple of years ago. She’d deliberately chosen the most ‘city’ outfit she had, all black with skinny jeans, spiky black heels and a cape she’d found on the sale rack at Saks that still had cost a small fortune, black with scarlet satin trim. She’d wanted to look the cool and clever big-time big-city advertising executive and had made quite a show of having her iPhone out the whole time in case she’d been needed. Annie had been dressed like they were about to head to the library to study, in comfy sweatpants and a big sweater.
Which was exactly what she had on now, Lila realized, looking down at herself. Oh how the mighty had fallen. Her iPhone lay silent in her pocket as she resumed her walk along the seawall. Phillip hadn’t called once since he’d ended things. And she’d had such dreams for them. She could still see it, the two of them living in some chic apartment in a trendy part of the city with sleek, modern furniture without armrests and hard, animal print pillows. She’d be pouring them both Martinis—a drink she’d never enjoyed but this wasn’t real life now was it—as he’d be loosening his tie and… asking her what the hell was she doing there in the apartment he was sharing with Axelle?
Heaving a deep sigh, Lila trudged slowly in the fog and wished she didn’t have to drive home that night. Thinking of it as home didn’t even feel right. Annie lived in a home, with Pete and Charlotte and cozy lamps and chenille blankets. Lila lived in a box with a futon and a wide-screened TV her roommates always had turned on to America’s Next Top Model. Which she had to admit she found addictive. But that was beside the point—the point that she was alone. Utterly alone. As she had been her whole life, she thought with another sigh, dredging up the cloak self-pity she kept for such circumstances. From somewhere in the misty sea, a fog horn gave a forlorn bleat.
Across the street a brilliantly lit store with gleaming wood floors cut into her gloom. “Cover to Cover” read the sign above the door in burnished gold letters embossed on weathered wood. The bookstore drew Lila like a tractor beam. Crossing the street, she peered into the windows framed with the little white lights of the season. The entryway had a couple of fliers advertising a local play and an upcoming New Year’s Eve block party plus a small hand-written help wanted sign adding just the right amount of clutter to make it homey.
Swinging open the heavy wood and glass door, Lila stood in the entryway taking in the local recommended authors section, the new fiction table, the bargain bin, and one overstuffed armchair that remained unoccupied. Grabbing a paperback with the classic pink cover with a pair of shoes on it signaling chick lit, she claimed the chair and wondered what team of goons they were going to have to use at closing time to kick her out of the store.
Chapter 3: Take. These Broken Wings.
“Do you have a fire
What did Annie know about heartbreak? Lila thought miserably as she made her way further down the street. What did Annie know about making it on your own? Lila dug her hands, clad in matching green mittens that her Gram had knit for her, deep into her pockets.
Crossing the street away from the shops, Lila walked along the side next to the ocean. Gray mist snarled among the waves, crashing up and swirling among the rocks. She paused to stare out moodily into the deep. What she needed was some sort of cape to complete the picture, black and swirling around her. Someone could see her from a distance and ask, “Who is that woman in the cape?” Another would answer, “That’s old Spinster Clark. She lives out on Point Doom with 13 cats.”
With embarrassment, Lila remembered she’d actually worn a cape on a visit to Annie a couple of years ago. She’d deliberately chosen the most ‘city’ outfit she had, all black with skinny jeans, spiky black heels and a cape she’d found on the sale rack at Saks that still had cost a small fortune, black with scarlet satin trim. She’d wanted to look the cool and clever big-time big-city advertising executive and had made quite a show of having her iPhone out the whole time in case she’d been needed. Annie had been dressed like they were about to head to the library to study, in comfy sweatpants and a big sweater.
Which was exactly what she had on now, Lila realized, looking down at herself. Oh how the mighty had fallen. Her iPhone lay silent in her pocket as she resumed her walk along the seawall. Phillip hadn’t called once since he’d ended things. And she’d had such dreams for them. She could still see it, the two of them living in some chic apartment in a trendy part of the city with sleek, modern furniture without armrests and hard, animal print pillows. She’d be pouring them both Martinis—a drink she’d never enjoyed but this wasn’t real life now was it—as he’d be loosening his tie and… asking her what the hell was she doing there in the apartment he was sharing with Axelle?
Heaving a deep sigh, Lila trudged slowly in the fog and wished she didn’t have to drive home that night. Thinking of it as home didn’t even feel right. Annie lived in a home, with Pete and Charlotte and cozy lamps and chenille blankets. Lila lived in a box with a futon and a wide-screened TV her roommates always had turned on to America’s Next Top Model. Which she had to admit she found addictive. But that was beside the point—the point that she was alone. Utterly alone. As she had been her whole life, she thought with another sigh, dredging up the cloak self-pity she kept for such circumstances. From somewhere in the misty sea, a fog horn gave a forlorn bleat.
Across the street a brilliantly lit store with gleaming wood floors cut into her gloom. “Cover to Cover” read the sign above the door in burnished gold letters embossed on weathered wood. The bookstore drew Lila like a tractor beam. Crossing the street, she peered into the windows framed with the little white lights of the season. The entryway had a couple of fliers advertising a local play and an upcoming New Year’s Eve block party plus a small hand-written help wanted sign adding just the right amount of clutter to make it homey.
Swinging open the heavy wood and glass door, Lila stood in the entryway taking in the local recommended authors section, the new fiction table, the bargain bin, and one overstuffed armchair that remained unoccupied. Grabbing a paperback with the classic pink cover with a pair of shoes on it signaling chick lit, she claimed the chair and wondered what team of goons they were going to have to use at closing time to kick her out of the store.
Chapter 3: Take. These Broken Wings.
“Do you have a fire
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