Author’s note: This hasn’t yet gone through the final edit, so the published version may vary slightly

Chapter 1 – Owen

There should be a handbook for this.

Some sort of reference material you could buy or download or borrow from a friend in time of need. Thirty-five Things You Need to Know When Your Boyfriend of Six Years Leaves You Without Warning. Okay, maybe that’s a little too specific for the general population, but you get the idea.

A website might be helpful, too. One with a quiz or a flowchart that could tell you where you were in the being-dumped process and where to proceed from there. Or a hotline, you know? Someone you could call who would meet with you and coach you through it. A sponsor, if you will. Someone who’s been through it before and can tell you what to do and what not to do to get through it. What your must-keeps and your okay-to-donates and your definitely-start-a-bonfire-withs are.

Because if I’d had something like that, I probably would not be in the predicament I now found myself in. This fresh hell that has made me question how I possibly could’ve gotten a master’s degree given the fact that I am so unbelievably, colossally stupid.

This tenth circle of Dante’s Inferno known as Ikea.

I wanted to laugh at the irony that this newly discovered and previously unpublished level of hell lay just below the one reserved for traitors; after all, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the treacherous Rat Bastard previously known as Richard Ellis, the aforementioned title character of the aforementioned handbook. But being among the bargain shoppers and DIYers has made me question my sanity and wonder how I could possibly have allowed myself to end up here.

Well, okay. I knew how I ended up here. What I didn’t know, and probably never would, was why.

I met Richard—excuse me, Rat Bastard; I’ve been trying very hard to refer to him by the nickname my older brother Leo bestowed on him but a six-year habit was hard to break—when I was twenty-two. A month later we moved in together. I’d just started teaching high school history at the Houghton Academy and RB was in his last year of law school so we lived simply, mostly on my salary. Eventually after RB passed the bar we upgraded to our downtown condo and bought some nicer furniture, but it was still mostly on my salary.

He had loans to pay off, after all. It would only be for a few years, sweetheart. Just a few years of wearing discount clothes and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch while he put all his salary toward paying his law school loans and buying designer suits. Gotta look the part if I’m gonna make partner one day, sweetheart. It’s only for a few years. You understand, right?

A few years later I started working on my master’s degree while RB started landing bigger and bigger cases. Just a few years of these lean times, he’d tell me. Just a few years and then we’ll have the rest of our lives.

Then I came home after finishing my comprehensive exams—the last roadblock for completing this degree I’d spent every waking moment I wasn’t teaching working toward—only to find that my just a few more years, sweetheart partner had moved out. No note, no warning, no nothing. Just his keys in a tiny key envelope shoved under the front door.

After I stopped hyperventilating I called my brother Leo, and he picked me up and took me home with him. I didn’t go back to that condo for a month, and then it was only to pick up the things I needed to take with me to my new place. Everything else got sold in an estate sale. I didn’t want any more reminders of my old life with RB. I wanted to start fresh. Understandable under the circumstances, right?

See, this is where a sponsor would’ve come in handy.

Because a sponsor would’ve told me it might’ve sounded tempting to get rid of absolutely everything and start fresh, but one day I’d find myself the proud owner of a brand spanking new house—well, new to me, anyway—with no bed to sleep on, no chairs to sit in, and no freaking silverware to eat with.

Hence the tenth circle of hell I currently found myself in.

“Will you quit pouting and pick out some forks already?” My best friend Nina poked me in the ribs, probably hoping that if she hit a ticklish spot I’d just giggle and playfully admonish her like some sitcom character performing in front of a live studio audience would’ve done. You know, where they put their hands on their hips and exaggeratedly roll their eyes while they shake their heads and break the fourth wall. “Oh, that Nina Harwood. What are we gonna do with her?”

She’d probably be the audience favorite. The one who would get thunderous applause whenever she walked onstage. I’d be the forgettable one. The one nobody would notice got recast halfway through season three.

“Fine.” I huffed and grabbed the first thing I saw that looked like silverware I might use. Nice and plain, functional and utilitarian. Nothing like what RB had insisted we get all those years ago when we were doing this together at some higher-end department store.

“Good job.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Now let’s try steak knives.”

“I just bought a house I have literally no furniture for. I’m sleeping on an air mattress with a blanket I borrowed from Leo. You think I’m gonna be eating steak any time soon?”

“You just made ten grand from selling all your and Rat Bastard’s old stuff. You deserve a steak dinner. And you’ll thank me when you have a nice sharp set of knives to cut it with.” She picked out a set and threw them in the cart. “Now, shall we try for a spatula?”

The eye roll I gave her was exaggerated enough to make my glasses slip down the bridge of my nose. I slid them back up and brushed back that infernal dark brown lock of hair that was always in my face. Ever since RB left, haircuts had just seemed pointless. As had shaving. “I should’ve just given Leo a blank check and told him to pick out all this stuff for me.” He used to be a chef. Surely he’d know how to stock a kitchen from scratch.

“And miss out on spending the day with me?” She bumped me with her shoulder and pushed the cart further down the aisle toward the cooking utensils.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I knew I was being petulant and bratty, but I just couldn’t help it. Some days I was past the stage of being angry at RB, having settled into a general level of acceptance. Today I was mainly pissed at myself for letting my anger at him cloud my judgement throughout this whole moving-on process. “I just wish one of us had had the sense to keep some pots and pans, you know?”

“I know, me too. But in our defense, Leo and Derek and I—we just wanted to get you moved out of there as quickly as possible. Pots and pans are replaceable. Your sanity is not.”

I nodded, my mind drifting back to that day my brother and his boyfriend met Nina and me at the condo to get me moved out. I’d been staying with my brother since RB left, but eventually I realized it was time to stop hiding and start living my life again. Since Nina was a realtor, finding a house was the easy part.

The house was damaged, like me. It seemed like a fitting metaphor.

Some of the walls had been partially knocked out. The flooring in several rooms was ripped up. The previous owners, Nina explained, had been trying to open up the living space into a more modern open-concept style, but the husband was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer before he could complete the work. He and his wife sold the house, moved in with her mother, and put the proceeds toward his cancer treatment.

Nina called me before she even listed the house. The thought of this place going to someone who’d just take advantage of this couple’s misfortune to flip it for profit nauseated her. I was hardly a Mr. Fix-it, but the notion of bringing this house back to life when my own life seemed completely wrecked just felt right.

Getting moved out of my old condo proved to be harder than I thought, however.

Leo had rented a small moving truck and taken the day off work so that he, Derek, and Nina could get me all moved out. Ownership of everything there had unofficially defaulted to me anyway after RB moved out and left everything but his clothes behind. But after five minutes of being back in that condo, assaulted with memories of building a home room by room with this man I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with, I didn’t want any part of anything in it anymore.

Nina helped me grab the important things like clothes and family photos. Derek cleaned out the refrigerator and the pantry. Leo, ever the pragmatist, unhooked the TV and the Blu-ray player and packed them in the truck along with the washer and dryer—as well as RB’s top-of-the-line espresso maker— maintaining that a TV and laundry appliances held no sentimental value.

I didn’t argue with him. He would know, I figured; years ago he had a long-term relationship end under circumstances not completely dissimilar to mine. Although his ex cheated on him and mine… well, I had no idea what happened.

It kind of made it hard to move on when I had no idea why my relationship even ended.

The four of us got the hell out of my condo as quickly as possible and never looked back. Nina called a friend of hers who does estate sales and arranged for everything I owned to be sold so I never had to look at any of it ever again. I could buy new stuff, make new memories, build a new life in my new house.

That was the eventual plan, anyway. The immediate plan was to get out of this twisted maze of Swedish names with my sanity intact.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself as we rounded the corner to the cookware aisle. After two seconds, though, it became readily apparent I was going to need reinforcements. I sent out a quick text to my brother with a photo of the choices.

Owen: What should I get? Stainless steel or nonstick?

Leo: YOU ARE NOT BUYING POTS AND PANS FROM A DISCOUNT STORE.

That made me laugh, despite my determination to be in a shitty mood in this torturous place. I showed the phone to Nina before typing out my reply.

Owen: I’m not as proficient a chef as you are. The stuff we had before always worked fine.

Leo: Yeah, well it’s time to upgrade.

Leo: You should’ve told me you were going shopping today. I could’ve hooked you up with a restaurant supply store I know.

Owen: Well, then. Looks like Nina and I are done here. I’ll just leave the rest of it to you.

Leo: You got it. 😉

We made our way next to the bed and bath section, stocking up on towels and bathroom accessories. I skipped the bedding section for the time being, since I still didn’t have a bed. In fact, I hadn’t even begun to think about furniture shopping. This trip was daunting enough; the thought of buying a bed, and a nightstand, and a sofa, and a coffee table, and a dining room table completely on my own—all these things I had picked out before with my boyfriend to turn our living space into a home—filled me with a sense of apprehension unlike any I had ever known.

I wanted to do this right. I wanted to show everyone I was moving on, that I was dealing with this and wasn’t going to break down and cyberstalk my ex so I could find out where he lived and start physically stalking him.

The thought had crossed my mind.

No, I just wanted to fill my home with things I liked. Glasses and towels and silverware, that stuff was no big deal to me. But the sofa where I’d spend every evening watching TV while I graded papers? The kitchen table where I’d eat breakfast every morning while I watched the squirrels scamper in my back yard?

The bed I might someday invite another lover into?

I knew it was all just stuff, but what it represented—a life without Richard—was an idea I was still getting used to.

Nina lay a bathroom trash can on top of our overflowing pile of items. “I think we’re done here. Only way we’re getting any more stuff is to head back to the entrance and grab another cart.”

“God, no. I think I’ve had enough shopping for one day.”

“How could I have ended up with a gay best friend who hates shopping?”

“Should I give you an itemized list of all the places my life has gone wrong over the years?”

Nina smiled sympathetically and rubbed my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go check out and we can stop at Dream Cream on the way back to Leighton. Whatever you want. My treat.”

“You know that’s the only reason why I invited you on a shopping trip to St. Louis, right?”

She grinned. “I know. Now what do you say we get out of here? This place is worse than the fourth circle of hell.”

***

Dream Cream was a little eatery just far enough out of St. Louis to be considered the middle of nowhere, and was a favorite destination among Leightoners driving into the city for a day trip. It started out decades ago as a roadside joint with outdoor-only seating, but as their list of milkshake flavors grew so did their popularity. Nowadays you could dine in and enjoy a full meal or sit outside and enjoy any one of their two hundred milkshake or sundae flavors.

For a sunny Saturday afternoon in late October, there was only one dining choice, really.

I watched Nina at the counter as she placed our orders. Her long, jet-black hair hasn’t changed since high school, nor have the Doc Martens and rock tees that have been her uniform since sophomore year. Today it was the Clash.

At least one thing in my life has stayed constant throughout the turbulence. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if it hadn’t been for Nina.

She walked over, one cup in each hand, and sat down across from me at the outdoor picnic table. “One peanut butter milkshake with Reese’s Pieces, as requested.”

“Thank you.” I took a sip, sucking with all the strength my mouth could muster to get the thick concoction up the straw. The end result was worth the effort, as always. I groaned as the flavors hit my tongue. “This was so worth the trip. I would go back and fill up a second cart for another one of these.”

“I don’t know, we bought a lot of stuff today. It’s a good start.”

“Yeah, but not enough. I am really starting to regret not just bringing everything with me. I could’ve sorted it all out later and had a garage sale or something.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime you would’ve made yourself crazy staring at all that old stuff Rat Bastard picked out that you paid for but never liked.”

I immediately felt my hackles rise, determined to defend my relationship with RB despite spending sixty-seven percent of my time nowadays hating him. “I liked it fine. I just didn’t want the constant reminders, that’s all.”

Nina huffed a laugh. “You always complained about your butt falling asleep after we watched movies on that sofa.”

“Okay, maybe the sofa wasn’t the most comfortable, but at least I would’ve had a place to sit. At least I wouldn’t be drying myself off with old T-shirts when I showered because I forgot to bring towels with me.”

“Yeah, well, now you own towels, so that part of this whole thing is behind you.” Nina took a sip of her milkshake, likely mint chocolate chip. “You know you could’ve kept staying with Leo until you had furniture. He wouldn’t have minded.”

I knew he wouldn’t have, but since he and Derek got serious last month, I felt more and more like a third wheel. And even though I was proud of the little hand I had in making their happily-ever-after happen, it was tough being around two people who constantly made fuck-me eyes at each other.

I couldn’t tell Nina that, though. “I know, but it was time. I needed to start being on my own. The longer I put it off, the harder it would’ve been.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. And if you need someone to do online furniture shopping with, I’m your girl.”

My head snapped up and I gaped at my best friend. “Wait, online furniture shopping?”

Nina looked at me as if I had sprouted three horns and a second head. “Yeah. You know you can buy literally anything online, right? Including furniture?”

“I guess I knew that on some intellectual level, it just never occurred to me.”

“And I know this is probably not something you want to hear right now, but you know all that stuff we just bought at Ikea? You could’ve just bought it off their app and picked it all up. Or had it delivered.”

I glared at Nina. “And you’re just mentioning this now?”

She laughed. “I know, I know. I suck.”

“You are such a terrible best friend. I never should’ve traded lunches with you that day in third grade.”

“Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you. Whenever you get around to ordering the rest of the stuff you need, you let me know and I’ll pick it up for you. Free delivery right to your doorstep. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start.”

“And,” she continued, “I’ll buy dinner tonight and let you sleep in my guest bed. We can stay up late and eat massive amounts of pizza while we watch cheesy eighties movies and scour the internet for furniture.”

“That does sound nice.” So did sleeping in an actual bed, not a mattress filled with freezing cold air that made my balls practically crawl back inside my body every night. “And it’ll give me something to do besides sitting at the deli around the corner grading papers like I do every night until I can justify going to bed before nine.”

“Oh, honey.” Nina looked like she was torn between laughing at me and crying with me. “You are not doing that anymore, you hear me? Fuck, Owen. Why didn’t you tell me? You are coming over to my house after school every night until you have furniture, you hear me?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Well, I don’t want you sitting at the corner deli every night by yourself. And since I’m two weeks older than you and therefore your superior, you have to listen to me. So there.”

I knew I wasn’t going to win this one, so I just nodded. “Alright, you win. But I’m still going back to my house to sleep on the air mattress. After tonight, that is.”

Nina grinned. “Deal.”