Before, There Was You

by Kit Harlow

  "Why are you telling me this?" I asked, almost afraid of what she'd say.

  "Because I'm tired of lying and saying I'm okay when I'm not. I'm tired of being alone. And I'm tired of fighting with you. I miss talking to you. I want to make things better between us, but I don't know how. You said it yourself. You were my best friend and losing that friendship was almost harder than losing you as my partner."

  I wiped my eyes, trying to process what she'd just said. It was a glimmer of light in the darkness that had become my life.

  My marriage was falling apart, and the one person I never expected to care about me still did. It was more than I could handle and against my will, the tears fell again. This time, they were silent, but no less soul wrenching. I buried my face in my hands and let it out, unashamed to cry in front of Katie and unconcerned about what anyone else might think.

  When her chair scraped across the floor, I thought she was leaving. I wouldn't blame her...most people when confronted with a sobbing ex would leave without any hesitation. I would have...probably. When her arms slipped around my shoulders, I only cried harder, reminded of all the things I'd lost when I let her walk away. I gripped her forearm like it was my lifeline. She held me tight, waiting until I stopped shaking to let me go. Her arms fell away slowly, almost reluctantly, and I felt empty.

  "Done?" She asked softly.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. She held out her hand. I took it and she hauled me to my feet. Our eyes met and I quickly looked away, afraid of what she might see. Her fingers lingered on mine, and we stood there in that small break room, neither willing to move or walk away.

  "Kat," I started, breaking the silence. I dared a glance at her face and was startled by the sincerity there. "Thanks," I finished lamely. I felt her smile. It was like the room brightened at the gesture.

  "You're welcome," she said firmly, smile making her voice lighter and brighter than it usually was.

  We fell into an awkward silence once again, and I desperately wanted to break it. I couldn't think of a word to say.

  As usual, Katie stepped in. "Do you want to grab a drink?" She asked, voice hopeful and happy. I knew I should say no. My mind screamed at me to say no.

  "Yes," I said instead. If David could see me now, he'd be pissed, I thought. But the truth was, I really didn't care.

  ◆◆◆

  We went three doors down and split a bottle of wine. It was just like it used to be; me and Katie, talking about nothing and everything all at once. She asked me about David, opening a can of worms I wasn't entirely ready for. Keeping it light, I told her about our wedding, regaled her with accounts of my mother and her drunkenness at the reception, and told her everything I could think of. She laughed at appropriate moments, cringed when it was called for, and reminded me of how nice it was, having her in my life.

  We sat in that dark wood paneled room, sinking into overstuffed cushions, and talked. Katie told me about her life up until she got the job at the magazine. She didn't go into detail, but I could tell she was hiding the truth. I wondered how bad things had been for her – even Nathan warned me about it, and he was virtually clueless. She kept talking and I kept listening until we ran out of things to say.

  Katie sighed contentedly and pushed her sleeves up. It was a normal gesture, but I couldn't stop the gasp that came out of my mouth. There were thin white lines that traveled from her wrists up past her sleeves, so faded that most people wouldn't notice them. I couldn't not see them.

  Like her quirks and work habits, Katie's arms were yet another thing I remembered as clearly as ever. I knew the small burn scar on the underside of her right wrist from her high school chemistry class, the scratch from her cat that left a crescent along the back of her left hand, but these were unfamiliar. These were the scars of a habitual cutter. Knowing she had fallen into that mire my broke my heart. Her smile faded, eyes narrowed as I studied her once familiar skin.

  "Liz," she warned flatly. Her face once again became guarded as she withdrew. She pushed her sleeves back down.

  "What happened?" I wanted to know...needed to know. There was no denying the part of me that felt partially responsible.

  "I went through a rough patch." Her lips were a thin line and her eyes were utterly devoid of emotion.

  "That's more than a rough patch."

  "You don't want to know," she added, looking away.

  I reached out, put a hand on her arm and waited. She didn't pull away, much to my surprise, but her eyes glistened.

  She grimaced and stared at my hand. I couldn't read her expression and it scared me. We sat like that for what felt like a lifetime. I wanted to know what happened to her after we broke up. She'd heard all about my escapades. She'd seen me open today, so it was only fair that I give her the same option.

  "It was after I moved to the city," she started. Her forehead creased deeply. "I fell in with a bad crowd in New York. Got hooked on heroin, booze, ecstasy, you name it, I did it. Emily came to visit one day, caught me overdosing."

  She paused, looking me in the eyes, daring me to judge her. I wouldn't because I couldn't. I hadn't exactly handled the year of our break up in the cleanest way. I met her stare with determination. "Let's just say sobering up made me confront a lot of my personal issues. I couldn't use the drugs to pretend we'd simply drifted apart, so I found a different form of release."

  The release could have killed her...I remembered my first night without the hope of her, when the reality of her not coming back sank in. I'd visited New York a few weeks later, thinking I could win her back. When I arrived at the gallery, I saw her with some other woman and left without saying a word. When I got home to Northampton, I felt like my world was crashing down around me. I drank too much, popped some pain killers, and hoped I wouldn't wake up. I did. I felt like crap, but I woke up the next morning, grabbed my notebook, and wrote the article that got me a proper byline.

  "It's my fault—it's because I said no, isn't it?" I asked bitterly. I wasn't angry with her. I was mad at myself.

  "I always thought it was," she sighed, clearly tired of the strain she was under. "I blamed you for years. I thought you were the reason my life was so horrible. It was easier to blame you than to figure out why I acted the way I did."

  I felt my stomach flip. Every muscle in my back tensed up. I bristled, going on the defense more out of habit than any real sense of being in the right. “I begged you to stay, remember? I didn't want any of this! I never wanted you to hurt yourself!"

  "And what exactly did you want?" Katie softly.

  "I—" I paused. It was like a slap in the face, just as alarming and disconcerting. In the last five years, I'd never been asked or asked myself the one question that mattered: what did I want? My whole life since our break up had been built on making someone else happy with little regard for what I craved for myself.

  Kate continued to stare at me, angry and patient, clearly desperate for my answer though I had yet to work one out. She leaned back in her chair and took a long sip of wine before sighing. Just like that, her eyes softened and she sighed.

  "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "You had a shit day and I'm making it worse." We sat in silence again and I stared at my hands, eyes on the wedding band that looked out of place on my finger. "I should go." She reached for her purse keeping her eyes downcast.

  I couldn't keep it in anymore. I wanted to explain myself—I needed to. "I wanted you," I stated with absolute surety. I wasn't sure she heard it, but now it was out in the open. For the second time today, I was prepared to bare my soul to Katie, to drop all the secrets and masks. I ignored the lump in my throat as best I could and prayed I could find the will to continue.

  Katie froze, wallet momentarily forgotten in her hand. The look of surprise on her face set my nerves off. I shook from the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, making my nose tingle. I massaged my hands to give myself a distraction. It was almost too much.

  "I wanted the small farmhouse in Hadle
y." We'd always talked about the future like it was a sure thing. I wanted a simple life that I would share with her. I never talked that way with David.

  "I wanted to raise a family with you." I glanced at her, saw that she was staring at me intently, eyes softer now. I continued. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But when you asked, I was terrified. I wanted to be with you, but I wasn't ready to move to New York, to walk down the aisle…any of it." I rubbed at my nose absently. "By the time I was, you'd moved on."

  I remembered the way Katie smiled at the gallery opening in New York and the woman who hung on her arm. She'd moved on so quickly, it was like someone reached into my chest and squeezed, rending my heart useless...broken.

  "I went to New York to tell you, but it was too late. I never wanted it to come to this."

  Kate blushed, probably remembering that same night. I played with my wine glass, watching the Merlot roll along the edges of the glass.

  "I was hurting," Kate said simply.

  "You don't owe me an explanation."

  She bit her lip. "Yes, I do." She met my eyes and I flinched. "I needed to feel something. It was a month after the breakup and I hadn't heard from you at all. I was tired of feeling numb."

  "So, you did see me?" I whispered.

  Katie nodded slowly.

  I smiled bitterly. "I wanted to hate you. But I never really could."

  "And now?" She whispered, trepidation evident in her voice.

  "I want to be happy." It was the broadest statement I could make. The truth was, I didn't know what I wanted...not fully.

  "You're not happy?"

  I snorted. "I should be. I'm working my dream job, I paid off my loans, I have friends, my mother no longer calls me to tell me I'm a failure." Katie smirked at that. It had been a running joke when we were in college; get a job, you're a failure. Get a new car, you're a failure... "But it feels hollow."

  Katie leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

  "My marriage is falling apart and I'm letting it because I'm tired of fighting for something I'm not sure is worth it. I have to see the one person that I knew, with absolute certainty I'd build a life with, every day, but can't even talk to her because I fucked up in the first place." Katie grimaced.

  "And whenever I work with you, I look for reasons to argue because you're the one person who knows me better than I know myself and it scares me. But I keep arguing with you because at least then, I'm not pretending anymore. At least then I'm being honest with one person."

  Katie nodded slowly. I don't know if she understood, or if she was just taking it all in. We sat in silence for a moment and I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

  "Your mom has stopped calling you a failure?" she asked, changing the subject with a half-grin that lit her eyes fully. It was the most civil response I could have hoped for.

  I laughed. "Yeah. I never thought I'd see the day!"

  "God! I'd pay to see that woman's reaction when you told her you were marrying a man!"

  "Ironically, she wasn't happy about it. She said I had enough commitment issues, I shouldn't rush into marriage just because "he made me feel normal."" I laughed.

  Katie's smile faded and her gaze found its way back to her glass. "Why did you marry him?" She asked softly. What did he have that I didn't was her unspoken question.

  I studied her face, hoping to see some sarcasm or sense of humor. Instead, she was blatantly serious. Why did I marry him? I tried to remember.

  Sipping my wine, I thought about it. "I suppose because he was so very different from you. He was serious, tall, blonde," I ticked off the differences.

  "Male," Katie chimed in. I nodded. There was the barest hint of a smile in her eyes.

  "He was as different from you as I could get. He made me feel like I was special. And it was easy. He never once questioned why I did something. He never challenged me."

  Katie raised an eyebrow. "And I didn't make you feel special?"

  "You made me feel like I was the center of your world, but it was a position I had to fight for," I said sternly. "Our relationship took work and sometimes, I struggled to live up to your expectations of me." Katie cautiously looked at me, almost unsure of the person sitting in front of her. "With David, it's easy. I exist and he thinks I hung the moon." I thought about it more. "Well, it was, anyway."

  "You were the center of my world." Katie brushed her hair behind her ears and studied me silently for a moment. "For years, I thought I wasn't good enough or that I'd pushed you away." She smirked. "And I loved pushing you."

  I laughed. "That's an understatement." But it was a relationship built on trust and mutual respect. We challenged each other because we loved each other. It was the same way with our work; the more we pushed each other, the better we became.

  "You were my life," she continued. "I had no expectations because you were more than I could ever have asked for.” She bit her lip. “When you weren't there, I had to figure out who I was without you as my anchor."

  I could relate, having done some rather fucked up things after our breakup, but it never involved using other people.

  "So you moved on to one night stands?" I asked confused. Stephanie was my friend and I knew she was still hurt by it.

  "At least I didn't run out and marry a man," she retorted.

  Ordinarily, I would have snapped. This time though, I cracked—it started with a short giggle and moved into full laughter. Katie joined in, laughing so hard our faces were lined with tears and my cheeks hurt.

  Just like that, the awkwardness was gone, the anger evaporated. It was so easy—too easy, in hindsight.

  We headed out of the bar into a bitterly cold night. Katie called a cab for us and we headed to our respective apartments together, yet undeniably alone. Along the drive, I kept looking at her out of the corner of my eye. Some of her masks were finally gone and I found myself staring at a woman I knew better than myself. She was absolutely captivating and just thinking about her made my heart race.

  Outside Katie's apartment, I asked the cabbie to wait while I said goodnight. He simply pulled out his phone by way of answer. I threw open the car door, wincing as the cold air hit my face, instantly setting my nose to running.

  Katie was already heading towards her door.

  "Hey," I called after her, hands stuffed in the pockets of my next to useless leather jacket. She spun on her heel and smiled. "Leaving without saying goodnight?"

  She smirked. "Goodnight, Liz," she intoned, eyes sparkling in the lamp light.

  I took a few steps closer and felt the first flake of snow land on my eyelashes. Katie looked up at the sky as the flakes drifted down, settling in our hair.

  "This makes me want to go sledding,” Katie said wistfully. When she looked at me, my stomach flipped again. She always loved the snow and said it made the world nothing short of magical. And now, in the dead of winter, with several inches of the white stuff piled on the sidewalk in front of us, all she could think of was sledding. It was so perfectly her. I smiled.

  "Tomorrow?" I asked, feeling mischievous. "We could take a trip to Northampton. Go sledding by the pond."

  "Are you asking me on a date, Mrs. Markley?" There was no malice in it. So I took a step closer until we were nearly touching. "The meter's running..." Her eyes captured my attention, forcing myself to fall further into those deep green pools.

  I nodded. Katie's smile was infectious. My heart slammed against my ribs, but I couldn't stop myself. I leaned in, nose brushing Katie's cheek lightly. My eyes searched hers, looking for a sign that I was overstepping boundaries. I found none. This time, we'd both know what we were doing.

  "Tell me not to do this," I whispered. Katie's eyes closed.

  "Liz," she said softly. Her heart wasn't in it. "We shouldn't."

  We. She said 'we.' It was all the sign I needed.

  I leaned in anyway, gently brushed my lips against hers and studied her face again. Fear was etched in every feature, but her hand found its way to
my cheek and she pulled me closer. I forgot to breathe. Everything I was, was caught up in this moment, lips parting as she kissed me deeply. When I was with her, David didn't matter. Our breakup didn't matter. All I knew, all I cared about was standing right in front of me.

  I felt whole and torn apart all at once. Katie pulled away, agony clear in the crease of her brow. I wanted to hold her at the same time that I wanted to run away. She took a step backwards towards her door.

  "Goodnight, Liz," she said firmly. Katie all but ran for her door, leaving me outside in the cold with little choice other than to take the cab back to my apartment.

  Chapter 12

  The drive home passed in a blur. I paid the cabbie, shuffled my way to my front door, and forced myself through the lobby towards the elevator. The large out of order sign caught me off guard, but only for a moment, so I took the stairs. With each step, I reminded myself of why I had made the right choice. I told myself that I should be happy because life was so easy, because I had the job of my dreams, a great husband when I didn't push his buttons, and absolutely no reason to be discontent. Deep down, I knew it was a facade.

  By the time I reached my front door, I felt utterly exhausted. I unlocked the deadbolt, tossed my bag to the side, threw the security chain in place, and flopped on the couch. I was restless though. After a moment or two, I stood up, heading to the kitchen for another glass of wine. I needed to calm down and I was on edge. I finished it in two gulps, poured another, and headed to my bedroom to be productive. I'd moved all my shit from Northampton—it was time I went through it.

  With a flourish, I threw open my closet door. I wanted to be comfy while I went through my life and my favorite hoodie was stashed on the top shelf with the rest of my sweaters. I ditched my work pants, grabbed my favorite pair of threadbare jeans and slipped them on before diving into the depths of my closet. The shelves were crammed full, so I put my wine down, scaled the shelves and yanked the tired blue fabric down, consequently sending a shower of sweaters and photo boxes down onto the floor.