'Til There Was You

by Jerry Cole

  And that was when he decided to move overseas.

  “So, you’re just going to run?” Clarice accused Finn when he first voiced his idea to move overseas to her. Although at that point it had just been an extended holiday idea; a few weeks in the sun to forget his troubles.

  “I’m not running,” Finn argued. “I’m just going away for a little while.”

  “Running.”

  “On holidays,” he countered. As always, he was at the pub that Clarice worked, sitting at the bar and drinking the free vodka lime and sodas she served up... well, usually anyway. This time she hadn’t bothered making him any. “Say... can I...?” he indicated to his hand, now curled as if holding a glass.

  “And if I say no, will you just never come back?” she raised an eyebrow at him and put her hands on her hips. Her flaming red hair was up in a sort of beehive hair-do today, which made her seem taller and thus more menacing.

  “Honestly?” Finn thought for a moment. “If I did have to start paying, there’s about a dozen bars nearby that are that much nicer – hey!” he yelped when she threw her drying rag in his face. “I’m kidding.”

  She rolled her eyes and started making him a drink. “Just tell me you’re coming back,” she asked with a hint of sadness. “That you’re not fleeing forever – fuck, one heartbreak and you go all loco on me. Welcome to my world.”

  “When did you ever have your heart broken?”

  “Long before I met you, sweetness,” she said. “But come to think of it... maybe you shouldn’t be taking my advice? That was years ago and I haven’t dated since – and not by choice. Good God, believe that. Here. Drink up.” She looked a little sour now as she shoved the drink under his face.

  Finn took the glass and gave it a sip. “I’ve said it all along. Dating is for suckers.”

  “And your son – Zac?” Clarice then pressed. “What about him?”

  “He’s too young to date,” Finn joked.

  “You know what I mean,” she continued seriously. “How’s he going to be with you going away?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Finn shrugged and took another sip of his drink. This time it didn’t taste so good, almost sour. “I’m only going for a few weeks.”

  “If you say so.”

  And then there was Zac. Honestly, Zac was the only reason that Finn was even waiting to leave the country. If it wasn’t for his son, he might have just packed his bags, gone straight to the airport and bought the first ticket out. But he couldn’t do that, not anymore.

  The last six months had been a revelation for Finn. Never, ever had he thought he’d get to be so close with his son. And not just close with him, but actually like him. He liked his son. He liked spending time with him. He actually looked forward to it! It was a sensation that Finn had always just assumed other fathers to be lying about. How could you like hanging out with a thirteen-year old?

  But Finn did like it. The problem now was that he had ruined that too.

  Finn hadn’t spoken to Zac since he’d dropped him off after Movie World. He hadn’t even texted him. Angela had tried calling him several times since then of course, but he’d just let the calls ring out. He was too depressed to answer, to sad, to broken and worn down and felt too sorry for himself. He was also scared.

  Again, it was this feeling of dependence. Finn had always only had himself to rely on. There was a time not so long ago where Finn could have gone to the airport, flown overseas and no one would have given a shit. Now he had so many people to worry about and factor into his life. Some might have said that was a good thing. Finn was pretty certain it wasn’t.

  But he was going to have to go and see Zac sooner rather than later... but not yet. First, he would buy this ticket. Then he would pack his bags. Then he would say his goodbyes to everyone else, and then... when he was ready and finally at that point of no return... he would go and say goodbye to Zac.

  He was already prepared for Zac to hate him for it. He just hoped it wasn’t too much.

  “Annnnnnnd that should just about do it,” the attendant beamed as she finished up on the computer. Finn snapped himself back into the moment and smiled his thanks. “How fun for you,” she continued pleasantly. “And me!”

  “A real hoot,” Finn agreed plainly.

  “All right. Sent.” She smashed a single manicured finger into the keyboard and then looked at Finn and blinked those big green eyes. “Your ticket should be in your inbox. A one-way flight to Mumbai, India to leave in three days’ time, nine o’clock on the dot. Dun, dun!” She smiled again, as if waiting for Finn to speak up. When he didn’t, she ask, “So... meeting anyone over there?”

  “Hhhmm?” Finn had his phone out, double checking that indeed the ticket had arrived.

  “Meeting anyone? Some people rate travelling alone, but not me. The more the merrier, I say. How about yourself? What is policy Finn Connor when it comes to travelling?”

  The ticket was in his inbox. He double checked the time and date, his name, everything. It was real now. He was actually leaving. “Just me,” he said into his chest. “Solo.”

  “Oh! I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Like I said, everyone has their own—”

  “Probably not.” Finn was quick and up out of his chair before the attendant could say or do anything else. He offered her a tight smile and a nod and then just about ran from the flight agency as if doing so would help cement his decision.

  It was done now. In three days, he’d be on his way to India, followed by whatever the heck he wanted. For six months he’d been tied down, dependent on someone else, unable to do anything that he wanted to do without first double checking with ten other people. Well that was done with. Finally, Finn was his own man again, just the way he liked... although to be fair, even he didn’t believe that.

  If life was so great, and this decision was the best he’d ever had, then why did it hurt so much? Why did he feel so bad about what he was doing? And why, every waking second, could he not stop thinking about Austin?

  The truth was, Finn was alone, and it had never felt so awful.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  If there was one thing that a writer hated, it was a blank page. That blank page was an anathema to a writer, the physical embodiment of pain, suffering and everything else bad in this world. For as long as that page was blank, the writer was a failure. And it wasn’t until words began to appear, sometimes as if by magic, that the stench of failure began to wear off.

  Austin stared at the blank page on his laptop, wishing that by the pure grace of God, words would suddenly start appearing. It didn’t matter what words they were either. So long as there was something there to work with. Anything at all! He’d even try and write them himself, dangling his fingers above the keyboard as if he meant to start typing. But every time he went to actually do it, he would stop, hesitate, wonder, ponder and double guess. And all the while, that page would remain blank.

  He was currently holed up in the study of his brand-new apartment, door closed, curtains drawn, lights off and hunched over his desk like he had a purpose. He had locked himself in this room some five hours earlier, certain that the act of doing so would see him finally start to write. Well... five hours later and his theory was very quickly being proven wrong.

  The problem wasn’t even the blank page. Not really, anyway. The real problem was the lack of inspiration that Austin was feeling within himself. How could he write if he had no idea what to write about? It was impossible!

  “The idea will come,” Michael had assured Austin when he had first broached this topic one week ago. “And when it does, I need you in front of a laptop. Or a with pen in hand. Or crayon if that’s what you prefer.”

  “What if it doesn’t come?” Austin had pleaded.

  “It will,” Michael had said again. “Trust me.”

  There was also a lot more pressure this time round. With the signing bonus Austin had received from New World Publications, plus the deal for two more books, he was now writing for
someone else for the first time ever; forced creativity, rather than a natural muse. It was a process that just didn’t work for him.

  “You’re a writer,” Michael had countered. “You’ll figure something out. And when you can’t, think of all that money. Let that guide you.”

  For a week now, Austin had been locking himself away in his new apartment, laptop open as he tried to come up with a new story that would carry across two more books. And for a week now, he had failed.

  Austin stared at that blank page, determined to keep his mind on what he was trying to write, and not on where it wanted to go. He knew of course why he had no motivation, no drive, no desire... he was more than aware, but fuck, he hated to think about it. Even though that was all he did.

  But how could he not? The reason Austin had been able to whip up his novel so effortlessly last time was because of Finn. He had wanted to impress him, to show Finn what he could do and ultimately, make the stud fall for him. It had been a project of passion, and that was why it had been so easy.

  Every time Austin tried to write, he went down this same path. And every time it led him to the same place; Austin descending into misery as he thought about Finn and what had happened between them.

  The relationship had ended badly. It was as simple as that. They’d gotten into a stupid fight, they hadn’t resolved the fight, and now they were done. The reason for the fight was oh, so stupid too! That’s what made the whole thing worse. If Austin could justify it in his head, then maybe he’d be able to get past it. But he just couldn’t do that.

  Austin wasn’t even sure who was right and who was in the wrong anymore. He didn’t give a shit. He wanted to hear from Finn. He was desperate!

  But he’d left it too long. What amounted to six weeks since their fight, and with no contact, there was just no way he could put himself out there like that. Austin had changed a lot recently, but not that much.

  It was just as Austin was starting to feel the sting of depression that his phone vibrated in his pocket. Five weeks ago that feeling would have sent his heart lurching through his throat. Maybe it was Finn? Maybe he was apologizing? Maybe they’d be back together soon... but that was five weeks ago. A lot had changed in that time.

  The message was from Michael, as it always was now. “Don’t forget tonight!”

  Austin grimaced at the message, but quickly wrote back, “Don’t worry, I’m all over it.” He then shoved his phone in his pocket, looked back at the blank page, realized he wasn’t going to be doing any writing today and figured he may as well start getting ready for tonight instead... at least it would give him time to get a couple of drinks in.

  And what was tonight exactly? Austin had himself a date. And not with Eduardo either. This was a new man called Wallace, one that Austin hoped turned out better than Eduardo had. Not that it would be hard.

  As Austin hurried into the kitchen and made his first drink of the night – but not his last – he managed to find a slither of amusement over the fact that it was now he who was the fuckboy, going on multiple dates with different men. It was something he’d never thought he would ever be able to do. And really, something that he had never wanted.

  Austin was a one-man kind of guy. This whole dating thing, sleeping around, being a general asshole, just wasn’t him. He wanted one man and one man only. If only that man had wanted him back.

  ***

  “... you don’t say.” Austin forced a smile and held it the best he could. “That’s... fascinating.”

  “That’s crunch time for you.” His date’s name was Wallace, and he was so not Austin’s type. He was smaller than Austin in both height and frame. He was balding, but the combover suggested he refused to admit it. And his mustache was one of those pencil-thin ones that nineties porn-stars used to have. “Crunch time is what we call it in the biz,” he finished with a wink.

  “I assumed,” Austin chuckled and quickly finished his glass of wine.

  “It’s not all work though.” Wallace smirked across the table at Austin and ran his fingers over his mustache. “Once crunch time is over, we get about one month of what we call ‘play time.’ You can probably imagine what goes on then.”

  “I hardly can.” Austin folded his fork and knife across one another on his dinner plate. The food was pasta and it was only half-eaten, but Austin was done. He indicated to a waiter that he wasn’t having any more.

  “Oh... this is a nice setting, so I don’t want to spoil it,” Wallace chuckled and then winked. “But it gets pretty wild.”

  “No doubt.”

  What was Austin doing here? He had no idea. The last date that Michael had set him up on, the one with Eduardo, was beyond awful, so the odds were that this one was going to be just as bad. All Eduardo had wanted was sex! And not just in the long run, but right there at dinner... either in the bathroom or under the table. Eduardo didn’t seem to mind. Austin had of course rebuffed him, and then complained to Michael about it.

  "Maybe I overestimated how ready you were?” Michael had pondered the following day when Austin had called him in a fury.

  “You think?!” Austin had snapped. “If I hadn’t stormed out of there the way I had, the guy probably would have followed me down the road with his erection!”

  “At least you know he’s randy,” Michael had chuckled.

  “That’s not the point!”

  “All right, all right,” Michael had then eased. “So, someone less... obvious next time. Got it.”

  Austin hadn’t wanted a next time, but Michael again had insisted. Unfortunately, he appeared to have taken his own mandate a little too seriously when he found Wallace.

  “So, writing,” Wallace pivoted and bulged his eyes. “That must be interesting – tell me about that.” He reached his hand across the table as if for Austin to take it. Austin did not.

  “Oh... what’s to tell?” Austin never did like small talk.

  “How about what you’re working on now?” Wallace tried. “I’m not much of a reader, but I love to listen.” He licked his lips, leaned forward on his elbows and again, ran his fingers over his mustache.

  Austin stifled a sigh. God damn, he did not want to be here.

  Was it weird too that Austin actually thought he was too good looking for Wallace? That might sound pretentious, but once Austin was able to get past the fact he wasn’t ready, and ignore the guilt and stabbing sensation he felt tearing away at his insides, that was what came to mind. Never one to be big on confidence, even Austin knew his current worth and Wallace certainly wasn’t it.

  Austin was now a verifiable hottie. His white-blond hair was cut shorter again; shaved entirely on one side and then undercut on the other with the top left long so it could fold over. His clothes were cool; skinny jeans, a torn t-shirt and a denim jacket all tied together by his new sneakers. And although he wasn’t physically built, he carried himself a lot more confidently. Six months ago, Wallace might have been just what Austin needed. But this wasn’t six months ago.

  The date lasted another forty-minutes. It would have been less, but Wallace was really, really, really eager to extend the dinner as long as possible. He tried for the ‘let’s get dessert’ line, and then suggested they grab a drink. When both of those failed, he insisted on an Instagram account swap before finally releasing Austin back into the world.

  Austin did feel a little guilty about how cold he was toward Wallace. But he’d warned Michael that he wasn’t ready, and had even told Wallace right away that he was just coming off a break-up. So, what could he do?

  It wasn’t until Austin was back in his car and driving home that he finally felt like he was able to breathe again. He’d been on edge that entire dinner, trying his best to not compare Wallace to Finn... not that there was even a comparison to make. Wallace wasn’t half the man Finn had been.

  Austin shook his head as if to expel the train of thought he was going down. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked on Finn. Not again. That was his new method of moving on. Any ti
me he even thought of Finn, he would shake his head and force his thoughts elsewhere. It was elegant in its simplicity.

  The light ahead was red, so Austin slowed the car down. As he did, he idly glanced to the passenger seat, and that was when he spotted something wedged between the seat and the backrest. With the car stopped, he reached across and yanked it out. It was a baseball cap, one with an image of Thor on the front.

  “Shit,” Austin muttered when he realized who the cap belonged to. “Zac...” he then finished.

  How long had this hat been in the car for? At the very least two months, well before Austin had left for America. If Zac had wanted it back, or had even noticed it missing, then he would have called or texted or told Finn to get it... back when they were still together, of course. Most likely the kid had just forgotten. But what if he hadn’t...

  What if Zac desperately wanted the hat back? What if he had begged Finn, but Finn was too stubborn to call or to pick it up? What if Zac had cried and stamped his foot and demanded that Finn retrieve the hat? What if this was his favorite?! That was all unlikely, but it also lent itself to another idea.

  What if this hat was a sign? Or better yet, a bridge! Austin had been waiting for Finn to contact him, but the man was either over him or too stubborn to do so. Austin was the same, refusing to put himself on the line, even if it just meant calling to say hello. What he had needed was an excuse.

  Austin didn’t stop to think. The moment the idea entered his head he was changing directions and heading to where Angela lived. Worst case scenario, he would just have a little talk with her and Zac and figure out how Finn was. Best case... well, he didn’t dare consider that.

  Austin had always liked Angela too, as funny as that might have seemed. He had the pleasure of only meeting her after she and Finn started to reconcile their differences, so he’d never witnessed the ‘dragon lady’ that Finn had always described. Honestly, he used to like the way she derided and insulted Finn. He’d found it hilarious. As such, he had no worries at all about knocking on her front door at ten o’clock at night with hat in hand, literally.