Jolt

by Kris Bryant

  I really don’t know how long I’m on the floor before shame picks me up and I head for the bed. I want to just lose myself in sleep, but my thoughts are too painful. My logical side tries to reason with the emotional side. We physically had one day, one dinner, and one long weekend together. We never talked about a committed relationship. Ali asked me if I was ready for one, but we never solidified us. We Skyped or talked on the phone every night, and I really can’t believe Ali had the stamina to perform, talk to me every night, and sleep around with other women on the road. I don’t want to believe that I invested so much of myself into what I thought was a blossoming relationship only to find out it was just about sex. I’m so exhausted. I know I shouldn’t turn my phone on, but I convince myself it’s for safety. I find fourteen missed calls from Ali and several texts.

  Where did you go? It’s not what you think. Please come back.

  Please talk to me, Beth.

  I need to see you. Call me.

  Now, I’m angry. Nothing she can tell me makes it okay for her to kiss another woman. I won’t take her call, but I’m not just going to let this stew.

  I can’t believe you! I trusted you! With everything. All of me. You broke my heart, Ali. I’m done talking. Forget this. Forget us.

  I realize I’m crying as I type my message back to her. I don’t want to be done with her, but once a cheater, always a cheater. I hit send, wait a minute until I know it’s gone through, and turn my phone off. Now, I can try to sleep. That is, after I push everybody out of my head. I don’t want to hear Shakespeare tell me that the course of love isn’t smooth or Emily preach to me that I should keep my heart open. I want to deal with this the way everybody who’s had a broken heart has dealt with pain. I want to wallow in self-pity and pout and cry and analyze every word spoken to see if I read too much into it. I need to cry the rest of these tears, wake up tomorrow, and figure out a way to erase the last two months of my life.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I stare out the window and watch the people below scurry along the sidewalks and streets of my city. They remind me of marching ants all moving in single file. I feel distant from them. I now understand Emily and the funeral in her brain she’s been telling everybody about for years. Hell, I’m there, serving food and waiting on people at my own heart’s wake. I can tell I’m depressed. I’ve been home two weeks now, and I’ve only had conversations with Tom.

  He keeps telling me we aren’t on any deadlines and it’s okay if I need to take a break. I’m ignoring him. My fourth murder-mystery book was easy to finish because it didn’t allow me to think of anything other than the storyline. The other book, the one Tom’s been gently pushing me to finish, is the real culprit. I’m trying to distance myself from it, but it keeps dragging me under, stirring up emotions I don’t want to have. A week ago, when I dropped by the office, Tom casually mentioned that Ali had reached out to him.

  “I really like where this book is going. I think you need to get the anger out and try to start healing. Oh, and Ali Hart called me trying to get in touch with you. Be sure to watch your word tenses. And eat something.” That’s not verbatim, but damn close. I perked up a bit when he mentioned Ali’s name, but my anger kept me in check. I pretended I didn’t hear that part. He watched me closely and I stared back at him coolly. He raised his eyebrows and wisely moved on to a different topic. I left there feeling numb, but not beaten.

  I know I’m going to have to reconnect with the outside world soon. I haven’t read any emails from my main email account. My parents need to know I’m okay because I still haven’t turned on my phone. I’m tempted to get a new one, but I don’t want to go out. I want to stay in my cocoon of misery, also known as my condo. Tom knows I can hole up for weeks. He and my parents both know what I’m like when I’m close to finishing a book. They respect me and leave me alone. My parents because they know I have a quiet and dark side, and Tom because I’m making him money. That’s not fair, because he does care about me, but he has a dozen different writers and I can’t monopolize all of his time with my emotional breakdowns.

  I make myself a cup of hot tea even though it’s a sweaty ninety degrees outside. I circle my laptop. It’s time to get back to reality. Too many things are happening right now. I turn on my laptop, and the first thing I see is Ali with her guitar. Sucker punch. I’d forgotten that she was my wallpaper. I’ve been writing on my netbook this entire time. I want to close my laptop and crawl back into bed, but I can’t keep wallowing. I look at her face and smile sadly. I do miss her. I know I was probably unfair with her, but damn, it hurt! It seems like a lifetime ago. At least now I’m calmer than I was a few weeks ago. The intensity of my jealousy scared me. I was a complete wreck and out of control. Yes, I know I should have at least listened to Ali, but I knew I wasn’t going to be fair to her or to myself with both of our emotions raging.

  I click on my email and cringe. I have over two thousand messages in my inbox. My eyes flicker over the senders, consciously looking for Ali’s name, even though I don’t want to admit it to myself. I have twenty-four emails from her. I ignore them and weed through the rest. I answer a few from Renee and Val. Apparently, Ali reached out to Renee, too, trying to reach me. I’m thankful nobody gave Ali my home address. If and when I let her on my turf, it will be on my terms. I also ignore the nagging disappointment that nobody gave her my address. I can’t win this internal struggle. After two hours of deleting and answering messages, I’m down to only Ali’s. Am I ready for this? Am I calm enough to respond? Curiosity wins and I click on the first one, written the night of the concert. I read the words carefully and I’m transported back to that night. I can’t forget Ali’s hand on that woman. I find out she’s Ali’s ex-girlfriend, Gennifer. I can’t forget their lips touching. My heart hurts again. The ache deep inside almost takes my breath away. I reread the words until they sink in. Until they push through the darkness and anger and I’m able to concentrate on their meaning.

  Beth,

  You have to believe me that nothing happened between me and Gennifer. She showed up at the concert to let me know that our dog died. Yes, she wanted to try again, but I said no. I told her I was very happy with somebody else. This sounds really stupid and it really was stupid, but the kiss you saw was a good-bye kiss. It was very chaste. There was no passion. Not what you and I share. When Brian told me you were here, I was so excited, and then he pointed out what you saw and I was a complete wreck. I still am. Please talk to me. Please call me. I need you.

  Ali

  I received two more emails that night. It’s obvious that Ali didn’t sleep at all. The explanation seems plausible, really, but it still was hurtful to see. I read the next few. They all have the same message asking me to call her or text. Eventually, the pleading stops and the emails are more informative of the tour and less personal. The very last email she sent me two days ago stops my heart.

  Bethany,

  If I knew where you live and if I didn’t have a lot of people counting on me to finish this tour, I’d bang down every door in Chicago trying to find you. It’s apparent you don’t want to talk to me, and as heartbreaking as that is, I have to respect your decision. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I can’t change what happened. I made a mistake. I hurt you after you gave yourself to me, and I can’t forgive myself. I won’t try contacting you anymore, but I need to make sure that you’re safe. Please at least let me know that. For what it’s worth, our time together was incredible and you’ll always be in my heart. Please take care of yourself and know that you’ve changed my life for the better. I wish you true happiness and deserving love. Always.

  Ali

  I close my eyes and relive our very last kiss. I was dropping her off at Kansas City International Airport, both of us trying hard not to cry. Our kiss was very passionate. It was also in front of everybody at the airport. We hugged for a good minute, neither one of us wanting to let the other go. Eventually, I peeled myself from her embrace and tried smiling. We were b
oth sad though.

  If I’m completely honest, I know that the kiss Ali shared with Gennifer was nothing but what Ali said it was. A good-bye. I know that Ali cares for me, and besides, it’s not as if we were exclusive or talked about being monogamous. I know that I’m being unfair and I need to talk to her. It’s the right thing to do.

  Ali,

  I’m fine. I really don’t know what to think or say. I know it wasn’t very responsible of me to just disappear, but you hurt me. God, it hurt to see you with your arms around somebody else. I know we didn’t have an agreement about our relationship, but after our weekend, I assumed we were exclusive. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have fallen so hard for you so fast. I get that now. Maybe when I settle down and finish my writing and you’re done with your tour, we can meet somewhere and talk. I just can’t right now. I don’t have the energy or emotional strength. I’m focused on wrapping things up with my book, and I’m so close to finishing it that I owe it to myself to see it through. Please understand that. Good luck with the rest of your tour.

  Bethany

  I know that my email to Ali isn’t much, but it’s something. It has hope. A part of me wants to run back to Ali because I miss our closeness. I ache for her touch, and I’m almost ready to forgive her without actually talking to her first. I mentally smack myself. I deserve respect. Being vulnerable is one thing, but allowing somebody to hurt me is just stupid. I’ve had enough hurt for one lifetime. If I’m going to have a future with Ali, we’re going to have to set guidelines on acceptable behavior while we’re apart from one another. Kissing other women will not be on my list anywhere.

  My computer chimes. I’m surprised that Ali has replied.

  Thank you.

  Ali

  That’s all it says. I frown. I want more. I’m greedy for more. Yes, I know I’m being ridiculous and selfish, but thank you is a total letdown. Of course, in all fairness, my response to Ali was borderline clinical. I sigh and log out of my computer. I grab my netbook and open the manuscript. I want a fairy-tale ending for this book, but reality isn’t going to oblige. At least not yet. The chapter I’m working on now focuses on hope. That’s the word of the day. I do have hope for us, but it’s more of a seed than a blossom. Baby steps, I convince myself. I tackle the issue of trust and hope and how both are necessary to move forward and how it won’t be easy. Not for me and not for a lot of other broken-hearted people.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “I have to tell you, Beth, this is the best writing I’ve seen from you. I didn’t think I was going to appreciate it as much as I did,” Tom says. I nod along with him, cracking a smile that feels foreign.

  “It wasn’t easy and it’s not what people expect from me, but it really helped me move on. I can talk about Crystal without getting upset. It helped me heal. You’d think that by bringing all of this back up, I’d be a wreck, but I’m doing okay. I needed to do this,” I say.

  “Well, it appeals to your present fans and will hopefully help people who don’t know how to deal with break-ups. It’s fantastic. It’s sad, funny, emotional, and, when I finished it, I wanted more. I need to know more about what’s going on and what your next move is,” he says.

  “I don’t even know my next move. I really wish I knew how this is going to work out.” I sigh.

  “I’m sure things will turn out fine. Just have a little faith.”

  My smile feels better this time. “You’re sweet. I guess I need to talk with Ali and see what comes next.”

  “Make sure to take some time for yourself. Go celebrate. Go to the park and get tan lines. I’ll submit this to Kyle, and once we get his giant stamp of approval, Patty and I’ll take you out to a fantastic dinner. Who knows? Maybe by then we’ll get to meet this Ali girl.”

  I hug him and leave his office. The giant weight that was on my shoulders is gone. I feel free. I stop by my place and change into running clothes. I haven’t spent any time in Grant Park and I miss my daily runs. Since it’s midday Monday, not too many people are around. I feel invigorated out in the sun. I feel new. It’s time to start making big-girl decisions. Now that my books are done, I can focus on my future, mainly Ali. I haven’t received any more email from her, and as much as that stings, I understand. Her final concert is Friday night in San Diego. Ali’s family always attends that one. If I count all of her family members, twenty people will be there, not to mention the band and their families.

  I finish my jog and sprawl out on the soft grass, my arm serving as a pillow as I stare up at the sky. I close my eyes and simply enjoy the warmth and listen to the sounds around me. An older lady and her dog are close by playing ball, birds are chirping all around me, and I can hear a group of kids kicking a soccer ball around. I know I’m going to fall asleep. Not a safe decision, but I’m emotionally exhausted. I end up sleeping for an hour. I wake up feeling surprisingly refreshed and walk home, ready to plan the rest of my week.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I’m pacing around my phone, staring at it and avoiding it at the same time. Today is the day I’m going to call Ali. Of course, I said that yesterday, too, but today I believe it. I’ve been debating whether I should call her now or wait until the tour is over. Since I’m done with both manuscripts, I have nothing to do except think of her. God, I’m so nervous. The phone feels like a brick. I automatically find her in my address book. I stare at the thumbnail attached to her number. I’ve missed her face. I take a deep breath and hit call before panic sets in. I put the phone up to my ear and wait.

  “Beth.” Her voice is low and raspy. It hits me with such force I have to sit down.

  “Hi,” I say, not sure how to start the conversation without sounding weird. “Is this a bad time to talk?”

  “No. How are you?” She sounds tired. I’m sure the last half of the tour was stressful.

  “I’m all right.” I’m not going to start in with how I’m not sleeping and my days are hell without her or how my clothes don’t fit me anymore. I need to find out where we stand before I fall apart. “How are you? Only a few more days on tour, right?” I pretend like I don’t know, but I know her schedule forward and backward. Her last concert is this Friday, only three days away.

  “I’m okay. I just can’t wait until I’m done with everything.” She sounds defeated. “Thank you for calling. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  It’s my turn to speak, and I’m torn with how I want to approach getting together for a talk. The phone seems so impersonal and I want to see her, but I’m nervous. Maybe too much time has passed and she’s moved on. Maybe she’s just not interested anymore. I did push her away and hard.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk, but I would like to see you,” I say. She’s quiet for what seems like hours but is really only about two seconds. Still, I’m nervous.

  “Please,” she says.

  That’s exactly what I want to hear. Her voice is sure and strong, and I know she wants this, too.

  “When is a good time?” I’d like to see her in concert one last time before her tour is done, but I don’t want to be a distraction.

  “Is today too soon?” That makes me smile. “If you can come out to California this week, that would be wonderful. I’d love to share my final night with you.”

  “Won’t your family be at your concert? I don’t want to get in the way of your time with them.”

  “Trust me, you’re not an imposition. They’ll be busy doing touristy things anyway. I just have to take my niece to the zoo Friday morning.”

  “Without the rest of the family?”

  “I promised her last week. She was upset because I haven’t been around. My sister put her on the phone with me and voilà! I have a date at nine a.m. with a four-year-old,” she says. “Hannah made it perfectly clear that the rest of the family wasn’t invited, and I’m totally cool with that. But that’s really all I have to do. If you can make it to the concert, that’d be great. You could hang out backstage. Or I can fly to Chicago and we
can meet over the weekend.”

  “I can come out there. Let me check into flights and figure something out, and I’ll email or text you.” I know that sounds so remote, but I have to approach this carefully.

  “If you’ve ever wanted to go to a fantastic zoo, then Hannah and I’d love to escort you on Friday,” she says. She sounds hopeful and I so want to jump back in with her, but we have to talk about so much. I just can’t go running back as if nothing happened.

  “I’ll have to check. I have to tie up some loose ends here before I can do anything.” I’m lying. I’m so ready to get out of here.

  “Did you finish your manuscripts?” she asks.

  “I did.” I’m proud and sad at the same time. Elated that I’m done, but it’s always sad to say good-bye to my characters. I was happy finishing my heartbreak book, but not with the ending. I wanted a quicker, more cheerful finale.

  “I’m happy for you, Beth. Really.” I hear a commotion and she muffles the phone for a few seconds. She comes back to me and sounds down. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Will you call me later and let me know what you decide?”

  I agree. I’m very surprised at how calm I’ve been during our conversation. Of course, it’s over the phone, and I’m sure it’ll be a very different story face-to-face.

  “Thank you for calling me. It’s so good to hear from you,” she says. Oh, how I’ve missed her low voice. I can hear people behind her talking and know she needs to go.