Heidi's Guide to Four Letter Words(64)

Clicking my mouse to end the recording, I quickly switch over to my website and upload it without bothering to listen to it or edit it. It’s raw and it’s real and it’s messy and it’s me, and I’m not about to edit myself.

“Wow, that was exciting watching you do that!” my mom tells me, getting up from my couch where she made herself comfortable a little after hour one and coming over to kiss the top of my head. “I guess this means you haven’t spoken to Brent since you came back home.”

I shake my head at her as I close the lid to my laptop and remove my headphones to set them on the table.

When I left my parents’ house yesterday and came back home, I did it as late as possible, when I knew Brent would already be asleep. I had no idea what to say to him, and I just needed to be alone, in my own home, to give me time to think about what I wanted to say. I’m not going to lie; I was a little sad he didn’t notice I was home and immediately come over here, but I only have myself to blame for that. I ran away. I shut him out. I didn’t respond to any of his texts or phone calls. And if I want to continue being the strong, confident woman I’ve become, I need to go to him.

“I have to go back to work tomorrow. As soon as I get that out of the way and catch up on everything I’ve missed, I’m going to talk to him,” I tell her.

Thankfully, EdenMedia gave me two weeks’ vacation right from the start, and they were super nice when I called in last week and told them I needed to use one week immediately for a family emergency. I felt bad about lying to them, but I didn’t really feel like explaining to them I needed to take a week off because I was a heartbroken wuss who screwed up the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

“I didn’t want to tell you this when you were staying with us, but Brent called me almost every day checking up on you,” my mom admits.

My lip quivers when she says this, and once again, I feel like the biggest fool in the world. Every part of me wants to race over to his house right now, beg him to forgive me, and ask him if we can start over, but it’s not that easy. I just blasted all our business all over the internet once again without talking to him about it, because it’s what I needed to do for myself. This whole journey I’ve been on started with me wanting to do whatever it took to be confident and happy for me, not to please anyone else. Brent is a big part of that journey, so I couldn’t just not talk about him and everything between us. He didn’t get mad about what I’d already revealed about him, but I don’t really know how he’s going to take it that I just spent three hours pouring out every single teeny tiny detail between us. I hope he understands I needed this outlet to work through everything in my head. And my heart.

While my mother listened. Now my mother knows more about my sex life than any mother should ever know about her daughter. But hey, we can just consider it making up for lost time, since we never had the sex talk while I was growing up.

Maybe Brent won’t even listen to it. He hasn’t sent me a text or called my phone since I left my parents’ house. Maybe I waited too long. Maybe using my podcast as a way to reach him and apologize was immature, but I couldn’t come up with any other idea that was… me. I can be immature. And I can reveal too much information to complete strangers. I once spent fifteen minutes telling a woman in line at the ice cream shop that I was fidgeting so much because I had poison ivy on my vagina (although I said hoo-ha at the time), because I was camping with my family and had to use the woods as a bathroom.

My mom gives me a hug goodbye and tells me she’ll call me tomorrow. After she leaves, I spend entirely too long staring dejectedly out my front window over at Brent’s house before finally turning off all my lights, locking my door, and going to bed.

Wearing his sweatshirt that I washed three times as soon as I got home. It still doesn’t smell like him anymore, but at least it no longer smells like cheese.



“Oh, hey there, Heidi! It’s good to have you back! Hope everything’s okay with your family,” Dave tells me when I walk into EdenMedia the next morning, shoving my purse into my bottom drawer and firing up my computer.

“You betcha! Everything’s great; thanks for asking,” I tell him, trying not to feel too guilty for making him think something was wrong with my family while I was out.

“Before you get too comfortable there, could you go back to studio four and see if they need anything? Got someone important recording something in there, and I haven’t had a chance to check on them in a while,” Dave says. “I’ll watch the phones for ya.”

Trading places with Dave, I quickly head down the hallway and quietly push open the door to studio four, my eyes immediately going to the small table against the wall where Dave keeps his beverages and snacks. Without looking into the big window above the DAW, and trying to make myself as small and quiet as possible so I don’t disturb the recording on the other side of the window, I walk over to the table and start gathering all the used paper plates, napkins, and dirty Styrofoam coffee cups in my arms, wanting to get rid of this mess before I see if whoever’s recording needs anything.

“And I’m sitting there on my couch, with my dick in my hand, completely enjoying myself and all the dirty thoughts I was having about my adorable neighbor, when my mother just waltzed right into my house.”

The paper plates, napkins, and dirty Styrofoam cups fall out of my arms and flutter to my feet when I not only hear a voice I recognize coming from the speaker mounted on the wall, but a story I recognize as well. My head whips around, and sure enough, there’s Brent sitting on a stool, right next to Aubrey inside the booth.