Karen looks each one of them in the eye, trying to get an early read on their motive. Their reason for being here. Most show up because they’re afraid of being mugged, attacked, or raped.
But every once in a while, someone wants to learn how to protect themselves from a person at home. They think the answer is to become stronger, faster, tougher. To fight back.
They’re wrong.
More than one has ended up with their photo on Karen’s corkboard and a file in that third stack. No one at the department knows anything about it. None of their business.
32
Wes rolls over to the other side of the bed.
Empty.
For the third morning in a row, Wes wakes up without Ivy next to him. It’s the worst moment of his day, and his weakest one. This is when he wants to call her. He even picks up the phone and pulls up her number, but he stops himself when he sees her name. Yesterday, he changed it:
Don’t
He puts the phone back down, forcing himself to get out of the bed and into the shower. Instead of thinking about Ivy, he thinks about Karen. About how this current mess is all Ivy’s fault. Reminding himself why he won’t, and shouldn’t, contact her.
She must know it, too. She isn’t calling him, either.
Maybe Wes shouldn’t have called his sister. Not that her advice is bad, but it isn’t always the best thing for him.
“Normal people don’t do this,” she had said. “Normal people run away. Far, far away.”
He argued with her, demanding she define a normal person. Her answer was succinct.
“Someone who doesn’t have sex with the person who called the police on them.”
Fair.
That’s what he’d said, but he was thinking that all those so-called normal people have never felt the way he feels about Ivy. He has tried to explain it to Stella many times, in many ways, including today.
“Do you like the feeling of falling in love?” he asked her. “Like, the beginning part. When you feel alive, and everything is better. The whole world is—”
“It’s called the honeymoon phase,” she said. “Everybody loves that part. It just doesn’t last.”
“For you.”
“So you’re telling me that you and Ivy defy the normal phases of a relationship?”
“Every time we get back together,” he said, “we fall in love all over again.”
After Karen showed up at his office, heading straight to Ivy’s place was the only option. There was never a second choice.
Stella did make an impact, though. She always does, which is why he doesn’t call her unless he is desperate. This time he was, but it had more to do with Karen than Ivy.
Unlike Wes, his sister did all the things their parents wanted their children to do. Stay in Michigan, for one. The most important one. Next, settle down and have kids. She has also done that, Stella is married and had a baby two years ago. Sometimes the things she says remind him of their parents, only she wasn’t born fifty years ago and is more reasonable about his choices. Usually.
And sometimes Stella is right. Especially when she told him that as an adult, he has to deal with the consequences of his actions. But right now, they’re so much worse than he expected. It feels like he made a choice that can’t be undone.
This breakup with Ivy is different. Remarkable due to the lack of drama, of yelling, of threats. None of that this time. Wes tries to trick himself into thinking they’re too grown-up or too tired for all that, so they’ve both settled for a mutual ghosting.
More likely, the anger hasn’t built up enough.
The thing that sucks—that always sucks—is that when he and Ivy are together, he wonders how long it’ll take this time. How long before they implode.
Even worse, when he and Ivy are apart, he knows they’re going to get back together. It’s not something he says out loud, and it’s not something they discuss. It’s something he knows down to the pit of his soul.
But it won’t be because he calls her.
* * *
—
Ivy types an email, replying to her manager, and calls him an idiot. Because he is, and the question he asked was stupid. She also calls him a jackass, because he is that, too.
Delete.
She begins again, starting with Why are you wasting my time with this?
Delete.
Third time is the charm. That’s what they say, though it wasn’t true for her and Wes. But it could be for her email. She begins with Thank you for your question.
Better. As boring as her job is, she can’t afford to lose it. She has already lost Wes.
Three days. It’s been three days since she has heard from him, and that was at Tanner’s funeral. Since then, not a word. Once, late last night, Ivy thought about calling Karen to complain about him again, thinking it would make her feel better. But that would be regressing back to her former, impulsive self. The one that slipped through a few weeks ago, when she went to the police.
Another ten minutes go by before she sends an email to her manager. No profanity and not a single insult. An exhausting task. Before she screws up and really does send something stupid, she opens up the group chat and vents.
Ivy: So I started seeing this guy and everything was going great. Like, really great.
Brooke: Uh-oh.
Ivy: Yep. He ghosted me.
Brooke: What a dick.
Lucia: It probably had nothing to do with you. He’s just a child.
Ivy: Seriously, who ghosts someone at our age? How big of a baby do you have to be?
Brooke: You have to be a loser. Literally, a loser in all of life.
Lucia: Totally.
Ivy: We didn’t even have a fight!
Brooke: Is words of affirmation your love language?
Ivy: No. But some form of communication is necessary if we’re ever going to see each other.
Lucia: I’m not sure love languages are relevant here.
Brooke: I’m just saying. For the next time, you know.
Ivy: For the record, my love language is definitely acts of service.
The bigger the better, as far as Ivy is concerned. But she doesn’t feel a need to tell her coworkers that.
Lucia: Just throwing this out there . . . but is it possible he’s married? Or has a girlfriend?
Brooke: I bet that’s it.
That’s not it. But if she and Wes didn’t have the history they had, a girlfriend or a wife would be a real possibility.
Ivy: You’re probably right.
Brooke: Obviously, we need a girls’ night.
Lucia: I second that.
Brooke: Happy hour at Luna tonight.
Ivy: Done.
* * *
—
Luna is one of those pseudo-upscale places, the kind that looks expensive. Up close, the decor and furniture is actually pretty cheap. So are the drinks, which is what makes it so perfect. When they walk in, Ivy makes a quick sweep of the room, looking for Wes. That habit has never died—not in ten years—and, no, he is not at Luna.
Good. The last thing she wants is for this to play out in front of her coworkers. It’s also bad, because he isn’t here.
Brooke holds up her drink, a dirty martini, and offers a toast. “We have to celebrate that the guy who ghosted you is gone,” she says. “Because he’s a dick.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Ivy says, and she did. A lot.
Girls’ night moves from Luna to Buckshot to Palmer’s. All of them are Ivy’s suggestions, and she looks for Wes at every one of them. Three hours later, she’s buzzed. Maybe a little more than that, but still sober enough to see that Wes hasn’t been at any of the bars tonight.