When The Heartache is Over

I waved at her as she closed the distance between us and then got back in my car. Just as she got close, I drove off. She started trying to run faster. But two legs against four wheels wasn't even a contest.

The last memory I have of Vina was the one from my rear view mirror. It's burned into my brain. All of that blond hair wildly arranged around that angelic face, giving her that just fucked look. Those huge tits barely contained by my jacket as they heaved with every breath she took. The jacket didn't cover much as she turned around you could see her entire ass. She didn't even try to cover herself up. Why should she? Vina, had always been some kind of Amazonian goddess. She was living, breathing art. I guess like Stu did before me, I found out that no mortal man can own a goddess forever. My time had just run out. My turn was over.

I turned my back on everything I knew then. I left Michigan, never to return. I left behind all of my friends. I had a lot of them but really what did that mean? None of them could help me. Sure some of them could help me find another job or give me a couch or even a guest room to sleep in for a while. But there's truly nothing that even the best friend can do against the kind of desolation I felt at that moment.

What can even the best friend do when you've had involuntary heart surgery?

I have a friend who's a doctor. He's told me several times about how much preparation it takes to perform any kind of minor heart surgery and how dangerous it is. The doctors, even the most gifted among them, can't do it alone. Just to repair a minor valve takes a team including an anesthesiologist, a surgical assistant, a surgical nurse and several others besides the doctor. Sometimes there are six or seven people on the team and they all have a vital role to play.

In even the most minor heart surgery, if any of those team members don't do their parts correctly or make a mistake, a tragedy can occur.

Those medical professionals make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year and they're worth it. Elvina, on the other hand, makes thirty five thousand dollars a year and she'd just done all of those people's jobs alone.

She simply reached in and yanked my fucking heart out through my chest, held it in her hands still beating and just shit on it. Of course, in defense of the medical team, Elvina had a distinct advantage. In her case, it wasn't necessary for the patient to live.

As I said, there was nothing a friend could do. After the operation Vina had performed so skillfully on me, I was nothing more than a zombie. I wandered around, obviously alive but saying nothing and only eating, sleeping and driving.

I withdrew half of the money in our checking account and half of our savings. Vina could keep the rest, but I needed money to live on and it was rightfully mine anyway. I was being more than generous. I never slowed down and I never stopped until I was too tired to drive. I needed to put as much distance between us as I could.

It was two days before I even thought about my phone. I realized then that I'd left more than Vina behind in Michigan. There were a few people who needed, maybe even deserved to know that I was okay.

One of the worst things about smart phones and the iPhone in particular is that they're power hogs. My phone was deader than disco. I reached into the center console for my cable and started charging it. I kept driving for another hour and decided to stop and get something to eat. I pulled into the driveway of a McDonalds. On my way out of the parking lot, I saw a girl hitching a ride or trying to. She kept looking around her. I guess she was trying to make sure there were no cops around.

I pulled over and opened the door. She got in. The whole God damned car smelled like McDonalds. She didn't even look towards the food. Not noticing that was my first mistake. I looked at her, she was okay looking. She had long legs, but she wasn't even close to Vina's level. Shit, who was?

She opened her coat and I saw small breasts but a very flat stomach. Vina had a small rounded pouch on her tummy. She hated it. She did thousands of crunches and sit ups from time to time but it didn't ever go away.

I thought it was sexy. When we were in bed, I rubbed it every night. "Leave my fat stomach alone," she'd say. "The only reason that no one notices it is because my tits are so big. But you see me without my clothes, so you know about it. It won't go away."

She'd put her arms in front of her stomach to cover it up and I'd move them and kiss it.

"My babies are going to grow in here," I'd say and kiss it again. And then her legs would spread and she'd get that look on her face. The look that told me, that if I didn't fuck her, right then she'd probably kill me. At that moment, back in my car, staring at the hitch-hiker's tiny breasts in her dirty Hawaii T-shirt, I wondered if Vina had faked that look too. More than anything else, I wondered why she'd put up with me for all of those years.

"Hey snap out of it, guy," she said. "Ain't you ever seen titties before?" I almost died laughing.

A thousand things came to mind at that moment. "I've never seen any that small," was one of them, but I didn't say anything except, "sorry."

"If you want a better view or maybe a little more, we could pull over and conduct some business," she said.

"No thanks," I said.

"Too bad," she said. "It might have been better."

"Better than what?" I asked.

"Better than me having to rob you to get the money I need," she said. Her entire voice and demeanor changed. I don't know where she pulled it from but suddenly I was staring down the barrel of a very business-like pistol.

"Pull over," she ordered.

"Nope," I said calmly. "I'm just going to keep driving." I stepped on the gas and pulled into the freeway's center lane.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked. "I said to pull over."

"I heard you," I said. "I'm just not going to do it." She put the gun higher and pointed it towards the side of my head and I leaned towards her.

I leaned closer to her until the barrel was touching the skin on the side of my face in the temple area.

"Go ahead," I yelled back at her. "Shoot me. Shoot me right fucking now." She pulled the gun back farther.

"Are you crazy or something mister?" she asked.

"No, I'm perfectly God damned sane," I said. "I just don't want to live any more. There is simply too much God damned pain and I want to see what comes next. What is there really after you die? I don't know what there is but it has to be better than walking around with this empty feeling and a hole in your heart where your wife is supposed to be."

"Slow down mister," she said nervously. "It's not that bad. You can get back together with her if you're still alive." The speedometer was rapidly heading towards a hundred mph and she was clearly nervous.

"We can't, fucking, get back together," I sneered. There were flecks of spit coming from my mouth as I hissed each word looking into her eyes.

"Mister please, get your eyes back on the road," she begged.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't want to die," she said.

"I do," I said. "Put that fucking gun back against my head, right now or I'll kill us both."

"Mister, you can get her back," she said. "If you love her that much, you just have to fight for her. If she sees you fighting for her, she'll realize that you do love her and everything will work out. It'll even fix the hole in your heart."

"She doesn't fit in the hole anymore," I said calmly. "The hole in my heart was made for a woman who loved me, not some big titted whore."

"Why do you guys get so God damned crazy over women with big tits?" she asked just as the horn from the truck on the other side of the road started blaring. I'd crossed over the median and she screamed.

I yanked the wheel sharply to the right and we missed the truck by centimeters. "Please mister," she begged. "Look if you want to die, that's fine with me. But let me get out."

"Roll down your window," I yelled as the car started veering towards the left again and car horns started to blow. She didn't hesitate.

"Throw the gun out of the window," I said. She did and again she didn't hesitate. I yanked the wheel to the right and started to slow down. I pulled off onto the shoulder and told her to get out.

"I'm really sorry, mister," she said. "I...I just needed money so bad."

"So you didn't see that big assed, "Help Wanted," sign at the McDonalds where I picked you up?" I asked.

"I don't want to work fast food," she said. "There's no future in it."

"But there's a present in it," I snapped. "So you do that while you're working towards something better."

"Do you really want to die?" she asked. I just nodded my head. "You loved her that much?" I nodded again and drove off.

The last thing she mumbled as the door closed was, "Love is for suckers."

I don't think she realized that I'd heard her. But her words had an impact on me. She was right. Every time I'd given my heart, all it had gotten me was kicked in the teeth. I looked at the screen on my phone as I settled back in on the freeway. I had over fifty messages and most of them were from Vina. I turned the phone off and went back to my zombie like drive. But the girl's words were stuck in my head. And I had a moment of clarity. I decided right then that I would pick myself up and simply start my life over again. But this time, I'd do better. This time I wouldn't be distracted. And this time I'd do it all alone. I will never fall in love again.

* * * * * *

Vina

I will never fall in love again. That was the thought going through my mind as I gathered my belongings and slogged back across the beach towards my hotel. I tried to wipe the image of the guy in that Mustang out of my mind but it refused to leave. There was something so primal about him. As I passed the guy renting the surfboards, I reached out to touch the board he'd just returned.

A hand like iron closed around my wrist before I made contact.

"You're a very pretty lady," he said. "But that board isn't mine. It's privately owned. I just wax it and store it for the owner. He comes out here to surf every morning."

I should have noticed it before. The board matched the car. The paint scheme was pretty much the same. There was even a large Running Pony Mustang emblem on the center of the board.

"You have a nice day now," he said.

I turned to go back towards the hotel yet again. I dreaded going there though but I had to. I guess what I was going back to wasn't what I'd expected to be doing. I'd slept in a comfortable if no-frills hotel room last night. I'd slept alone. I guess I'd expected to have a bed partner. But it hadn't worked out that way.

I wonder what had made Mary, Lou Grant's wife, decide to come with us on this trip. Mary had nothing to do with our business. In fact, she was almost my direct opposite. Mary had dark brown hair and was very slightly built. But she had a grip like a steel claw around both Lou's heart and his balls.

In all of the times that I'd met her, I'd never seen her as anything more than some mousy little woman. She was a non-entity. I'd ignored her for years the same way I'd initially over looked Danny.

Yesterday on the plane, Lou had moved back a couple of rows so he could stretch out and take a nap. Mary had moved over and sat next to me. "Oh joy," I thought. "This is the part where we talk about girl power and shopping."

For the first few moments she didn't say a word. She just watched me looking over the report from my PI that I'd just paid another four hundred dollars for.

"It's been five years, Elvina," she said. "He's either dead, or moved on. In either case, just for your sanity, don't you think you should move on too?"

I looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. There was an iron tone to the little mouse's voice that I'd never heard in any woman ever.

"No," I said harshly. "I can't. I won't ever give up on him. No one can hide forever. They even found Bin Laden eventually. I love Danny and we are going to get over this and move on with our lives together."

"Elvina, you're a good looking woman. You could get another man just by snapping your fingers," she said calmly.

"I don't want another man," I hissed. "I had lots of men before Danny, but I love him. He does things to me that no one else can. I love him like my mother loved my father. She died of loneliness after he left her. It took years for her to waste away and finally just die. But that won't happen to me because I'm going to find Danny. He's the only man I'll ever love."

Among polite people a declarative statement like the one I'd just made would have ended the conversation. Maybe she'd have come back with something like,"I hope you find him then," or the slightly snarkier, "Good luck with that."

But Mary Richards Grant went ahead and elevated herself from barely noticeable mouse-like creature, to the top of the bitch list with her next question.

"If he's the only man for you and you love him so God damned much, why are you fucking mine?" she asked calmly.

Every alarm bell in my head went off as she turned from sitting beside me to facing me. Her eyes roved over my face taking in every nuance as my face fell in shock and I gasped for breath.

"Relax," she said. "You're good for at least two more years, maybe even six. My question was more out of curiosity than anything else."

"What do you mean two years...or...?" I asked.

"Before I divorce Lou," she said. "Of course, if you guys can't pull this off; and he gets fired after this trip, I may have to do it now. That's why I'm here. You know how it works in business; that is what you studied in college right? When there's a major problem for the company, the chairman or the CEO steps in to see what's going on. And that's what I'm doing." She smiled at me.

"I have to protect my share of the assets. I have to make sure that my kids are provided for and taken care of no matter what. You wouldn't know about that," she smirked. "It still amazes me to this day; titties that big just going to waste. God damn, you could have had some fat, happy babies. Anyway, if you and Lou fuck this up, I'll be filing for divorce immediately. Lou is fifty, he'll be fifty one next week and he's in very poor health. Fucking you and beating your ass is the only exercise he gets." I gulped loudly.

"His skills, like yours, haven't kept up with the times. The chances of him getting another position at his current level and rate of pay are not very good, so it might be time to cut him loose. The divorce papers have been ready for just over six years. The only thing left to do is to fill in the numbers and update the evidence file."

"But I haven't been..." I began.

"Fucking Lou for six years," she filled in. "Nope you haven't been," she said. "You also weren't the first one. You started about three days before your husband caught you. I even know why you started doing it. You're pretty smart for a stupid woman. And you do seem to love your husband. If your plan had worked, you'd probably be really happy right now and I'd be in the same position, only it would be some other bimbo that Lou was fucking."

"But if you've known for all of this time why...?" I began again.

"Why haven't I said anything?" she asked. "It's complicated. You do know that Lou loves me, right?" she asked. And I nodded. "He loves our kids just as much. The problem is that we're not like you and your husband were. Our sex life has never been good. It's probably some physical thing in me. But I don't enjoy intercourse at all. I never have. It may even be the way that Lou does it. But he, on the other hand, has a very high sex drive and he's like a bull in a china shop. I put up with it and gave him two kids, but after that we just dwindled down to once, maybe twice a month and on his birthday. That's all I can stand."

"It's really frustrating for him because he really does love me, but I'm not giving him what he needs. That forces him to cheat and it's slowly burned away any feelings I have for him. I made him fire his previous two lovers because things got out of hand. I will not stand for being disrespected. And I will not stand for things getting even close to not being discreet. You've never said one single disrespectful thing about me. But some of the things he made you say about your husband were pretty bad. You do know that you hurt him far more with your words than with the sex, right?"

"But none of it was true. Lou makes me say those things because..."

"I know already honey, because he's insecure because he doesn't float your boat the way your hubby does or...did. It really pumps Lou up to have you telling him that he's better and that your husband is a loser and you'd leave him for Lou. And he, like almost every other nincompoop is bedazzled by your boobs."

"But how do you know all of this?" I asked.

"Ever since I found out about Lou's first lover, before you even got transferred into his office, I had the whole place wired for both sound and video. I have taps on his phone and yours. They were in place before you ever became his assistant. I even have your side of your cell phone calls on tape. I know that we aren't friends and never will be but can you accept some constructive criticism?"

"What choice do I have?" I asked. She smiled and looked at me.

"You have plenty of choices," she said. "You always did have them. Look, most of us are colored in some way by some traumatic experience from our childhood or young adult years. In your case, it was your daddy leaving when your mom got her boobs cut off. Your mom died miserable because she really loved your dad and you decided that would never happen to you. According to what you told your old college buddy last year when she called you, you started out just having flings with guys because you didn't want to fall for anyone so hard that it would shatter you when they left you."

My eyes widened that she'd been able to analyze me from just phone conversations with other people.

"That was really self-destructive behavior, Honey. But you seemed to get over it. What struck me as funny was her reaction when you told her about how upset you were about your husband leaving you. When she asked why you'd care about him leaving, you got really pissed at her. I guess she's the type of woman who is really more of a cartoon character than a person. In her view we can all only fall in love with a six foot tall blond Adonis with a ten inch dick.

From listening to you talk about him I figured out your attraction to him. It isn't physical although you do go ape shit over the way he fucks you..."

"Danny didn't just fuck me..." I interjected.

"Yeah I know," she cut back in. "He made love to you. Yaday yada yada...he took you places that no one else could get close to. I've heard you tell that shit to more people than Ford sells cars to. It doesn't matter, Honey. You fell for him because he was the only guy you ran into that saw the woman behind the tits. He loved Elvina, not Elvina's boobies. That guy would drive through hell in a gas truck wearing flammable underwear for you. You knew that even if you ended up like your mom and lost your sweater melons, he'd still love you and the two of you would still have your happy ending, right?" I started crying and nodded my head.

"And somewhere in this little fairy tale it got way more serious didn't it?" she asked. "You responded to how much he loved you. It became like some sort of weird feedback loop. The more he loved you, the more you loved him. When I heard you telling Lou about how you wanted to strangle the women he worked with, I knew what was coming. I knew how you meant it and I saw how Lou took it. It's too late now Honey but you do know that Lou lied to you, right?"