inspired.
Just because they were soul mates doesn’t mean they had to last forever. Just because they felt true love doesn’t mean they couldn’t have a new life after that love was over.
I yawn, snuggling deeper under my covers. Martha Gellhorn had a passionate marriage to Hemingway but decided she didn’t want to be a footnote in somebody else’s life. She divorced him and traveled the world as a trail-blazing reporter, having all kinds of adventures long after her supposed Great Love was over. I could be Martha! I decide in my sleepy haze. Sure, reporting from war zones can be kind of hazardous for the health, but that life — that moving on — that’s what I’m after here.
And with my new plan, I’m going to make it happen.
People go on crazy juice fasts or flush water through their insides to get rid of the toxins in their systems. And that’s what he is: a toxin. A chemical. An addictive substance wrapped up in magnificent cheekbones and a devastating smile. So if you’re going to get over him, you need to start by getting
away
from him: no calls, no texts, no e-mails. Nothing. Not until you can get through the day without him being the first — and only — thing on your mind.
Chapter Eleven
I wake the next morning with sunlight spilling through my open window and the spark of determination in my veins. I bounce out of bed, full of energy. This is it: the first day of the rest of my life. I never really bought into that kind of thinking before, but now the simplicity is irresistible. Things are going to be different now. I’m writing my own rules. Well, steps. No waiting around for Garrett to call, no hanging on his every message … Maybe it won’t even be as hard as I think, I decide, flossing enthusiastically. Sure, it feels like being in love with him is the only state of being I’ve ever known, but that will pass, it has to, and soon —
Bing!
The familiar sound of my IM alert bubbles to life.
I freeze.
Bing!
it goes again. I look over at my computer screen; there’s a new chat box up, the text scrolling as the sender adds to the message.
There’s only one person that could be.
I stay stranded in the middle of the room with my tank top pulled halfway over my head. I shouldn’t be so surprised. We always chat in the mornings — it’s become our new summer routine. But despite the breezy promises that were just running through my mind, I find that every instinct I have says, “Go! Read it!
Reply!
”
I pause, considering. I mean, it’s one teeny, tiny IM. And it’s not like I’m going out of my way to talk to him — it’s only four steps away!
Besides,
a little voice whispers,
what harm would it do?
I could start the detox after. And shouldn’t I warn him somehow — mention I’m going to be busy and not around to talk, so he doesn’t get worried when I ignore him?
But then one message will turn into five, and then he’ll call, and I’ll be powerless to resist.
No!
I lunge across to my keyboard and click the
X
at the top of the chat box, keeping my eyes fixed on a spot on my wall above the screen so I’m not tempted to read the message. Then I quickly pull on the rest of my clothes, grab my book, and thunder down the stairs.
It’s eight a.m., and already I feel the pull. Something tells me this is going to be a long day.
You know that thing where somebody says “Don’t think of an elephant,” and suddenly, the only thing on your mind is just that: a whole parade of elephants stomping through your thoughts? All it takes is for me to try and not think of Garrett, and suddenly, he’s consuming my every idle musing. Picking a radio station? Garrett only listened to NPR. Browsing the refrigerator for orange juice? Garrett likes the pulp style best. I stare for ten minutes at breakfast options, remembering the many times Garrett has dropped by in the morning to mooch my scrambled eggs and drink coffee before giving me a ride to school, until finally I have to
Just because they were soul mates doesn’t mean they had to last forever. Just because they felt true love doesn’t mean they couldn’t have a new life after that love was over.
I yawn, snuggling deeper under my covers. Martha Gellhorn had a passionate marriage to Hemingway but decided she didn’t want to be a footnote in somebody else’s life. She divorced him and traveled the world as a trail-blazing reporter, having all kinds of adventures long after her supposed Great Love was over. I could be Martha! I decide in my sleepy haze. Sure, reporting from war zones can be kind of hazardous for the health, but that life — that moving on — that’s what I’m after here.
And with my new plan, I’m going to make it happen.
People go on crazy juice fasts or flush water through their insides to get rid of the toxins in their systems. And that’s what he is: a toxin. A chemical. An addictive substance wrapped up in magnificent cheekbones and a devastating smile. So if you’re going to get over him, you need to start by getting
away
from him: no calls, no texts, no e-mails. Nothing. Not until you can get through the day without him being the first — and only — thing on your mind.
Chapter Eleven
I wake the next morning with sunlight spilling through my open window and the spark of determination in my veins. I bounce out of bed, full of energy. This is it: the first day of the rest of my life. I never really bought into that kind of thinking before, but now the simplicity is irresistible. Things are going to be different now. I’m writing my own rules. Well, steps. No waiting around for Garrett to call, no hanging on his every message … Maybe it won’t even be as hard as I think, I decide, flossing enthusiastically. Sure, it feels like being in love with him is the only state of being I’ve ever known, but that will pass, it has to, and soon —
Bing!
The familiar sound of my IM alert bubbles to life.
I freeze.
Bing!
it goes again. I look over at my computer screen; there’s a new chat box up, the text scrolling as the sender adds to the message.
There’s only one person that could be.
I stay stranded in the middle of the room with my tank top pulled halfway over my head. I shouldn’t be so surprised. We always chat in the mornings — it’s become our new summer routine. But despite the breezy promises that were just running through my mind, I find that every instinct I have says, “Go! Read it!
Reply!
”
I pause, considering. I mean, it’s one teeny, tiny IM. And it’s not like I’m going out of my way to talk to him — it’s only four steps away!
Besides,
a little voice whispers,
what harm would it do?
I could start the detox after. And shouldn’t I warn him somehow — mention I’m going to be busy and not around to talk, so he doesn’t get worried when I ignore him?
But then one message will turn into five, and then he’ll call, and I’ll be powerless to resist.
No!
I lunge across to my keyboard and click the
X
at the top of the chat box, keeping my eyes fixed on a spot on my wall above the screen so I’m not tempted to read the message. Then I quickly pull on the rest of my clothes, grab my book, and thunder down the stairs.
It’s eight a.m., and already I feel the pull. Something tells me this is going to be a long day.
You know that thing where somebody says “Don’t think of an elephant,” and suddenly, the only thing on your mind is just that: a whole parade of elephants stomping through your thoughts? All it takes is for me to try and not think of Garrett, and suddenly, he’s consuming my every idle musing. Picking a radio station? Garrett only listened to NPR. Browsing the refrigerator for orange juice? Garrett likes the pulp style best. I stare for ten minutes at breakfast options, remembering the many times Garrett has dropped by in the morning to mooch my scrambled eggs and drink coffee before giving me a ride to school, until finally I have to
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