Hard To Love

by Ross, Sabrina

  “About Matt,” She asked rubbing my back then pulled me in for another hug. I held my breath, unable to speak, and nodded my head. “It will be all right, dear.” she said, offering a sympathetic smile. Since the accident, all she kept telling me was how everything was going to be all right but it wasn’t. It had been a year and I didn’t feel all right. I felt lost and angry and hurt.

  “I know, Mom.” I gave her a thin-lipped smile. I slipped off my boots by the front door, and then made my way to the stairs.

  “Oh, by the way, I spoke to Mrs. Peterson today. She said any time you’re ready, you’re more than welcome to have your old job back at the restaurant.” She smiled widely. It was helpful of her, but I wasn’t in the mood to start a job, not yet.

  “Oh.” I sucked in a breath and tried to smile. “Uh—thanks.”

  “I would do anything to see you happy again darling.” She said as she gently caressed my cheek then told me she loved me. Guilt filled me, everyone was trying so hard to make me feel better and all I could think about was me. It took a lot for me to move home again. Falling back into my old life was not something I was interested in. I didn’t want to move back home, I had left that life behind. Problem was with Matt gone I couldn’t afford anything on my part-time salary working at the diner. My freelance photography pretty much went nowhere. When Matt was alive his salary was plenty to cover our expenses. We even planned on getting married and eventually selling the loft for a house in Beverly Hills. His dreams—not mine but I supported him because he always supported me. He always told me to strive towards my dreams. Always supporting me, in everything I did even when it failed. Being happy at what you do for a living was what he always used to say to me, and he lived his every day.

  His dreams came true; he was an editor for a big production company in Hollywood. He and his team of editors had been nominated twice in the three years we were together. He was proud of his achievements as was I. He meant the world to me and living without him was too hard. Moving back to Portland was a big adjustment. I had been gone for almost four years and never kept in touch with my old friend. I was happy to be home with my mother. She had been pretty lonely since Dad died five years ago.

  “I told her you are stopping by this week,” she said with a nod before walking away.

  “Uh—okay,” I breathed, then turned and walked up the stairs.

  I shut my bedroom door and flopped down on my bed, burying my face in my pillows. I just wanted to lie here and not move ever again. I had done nothing the past year but wander around as a different person in my own skin. Life was empty without Matt.

  The silent pity party didn’t last long because my cell phone started ringing. It was a familiar ring tone, which forced me to get out of bed and grab my phone.

  “Hello, Cassie.” I couldn’t help but smile remembering that I had forgotten to call her when I got to town.

  “Hey, girl,” she said. “You were supposed to call when you got here.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I got a little sidetracked.”

  “That’s okay, tomorrow you are all mine, and no complaints on the arrangements,” she stated.

  “Promise,” I said then lied back on the bed. “I can’t wait to see you.” Cassie had a way of helping me forget my problems. We hadn’t seen each other since I moved away but my mother always kept me up to date on Cassie’s adventures.

  “Good. I’ll see you around ten,” she said before hanging up. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was still early enough to make it to the restaurant before Mrs. Peterson closed for the night. I pulled my hair up in a bun and grabbed my jacket.

  When I pulled up to the restaurant, it was half past nine. The parking lot was practically empty. I took the first spot by the door and made my way in. An older woman cleaning a table greeted me. Letting the door swing shut behind me I stepped in. “Hey there, darlin’. What can I do for you?” she asked. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with Mrs. Peterson. Is she still

  around?”

  “She sure is. Who should I say is callin’?” she asked. “It’s Lauren Miller,” I replied. She nodded, and then turned

  away. I took a seat at the bar and waited. The bartender smiled and offered me a drink. “I’m good, thanks.” “Lauren, I heard you were back in town!” Mrs. Peterson squealed as she came around the corner from the kitchen area. I stood and walked towards her open arms. “It is fantastic to see you. You look terrific.” She hugged me tight. Surprisingly, I felt happier. Mrs. Peterson and my mother had been friends for years. “I was sorry to hear about Matthew. It’s such a tragedy. He was such a sweet boy.” She rubbed my cheeks as she screwed her lips downwards. It was strange how everyone remembered Matt when he lived in Portland yet I never met him until college.

  Matt and I met at a college party. He was three years older than I was, probably the main reason why I never met him before. I found myself smiling as I remembered the first time I laid eyes on him. A few friends and I were invited to this fraternity party, they had ditched me at some point in the night, and I ended up playing this crazy drinking game called Shot Gun with a bunch of people. The game involved a can of beer being shaken and punctured; then you had to drink the beer down as it sprayed out. When Matt showed up I had just finished my sixth round against a guy who barely got down his fifth. I noticed him when he smiled at me from across the lawn, and that was it. I was hooked. As it turned out, I was beating one of his friends at the game.

  Mrs. Peterson spoke, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Your mother mentioned you moved back home.”

  “Yes, temporarily,” I said, mumbling.

  “Well, don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything,” she said. “You’re welcome to work here until you get back on your feet.” She hugged me again. Mrs. Peterson was a childless, widow who had plenty of love to give. My mother told me back when I first started working at the restaurant, not to ask if Mrs. Peterson had any children because it was a sore subject. Mrs. Peterson had always wanted children but was barren, according to the doctors. Her husband never wanted to adopt and didn’t believe in paying someone to carry their child for them either. He was a God-fearing man and believed wholeheartedly that if it was meant to be, then it would be. I can’t say that I believe that theory myself, but to each his own.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Peterson.” I said, politely.

  “No problem, dear.” She smiled widely. “So how’s Monday work for you?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said with a nod. That gave me four days to get my stuff together and unpack my things. It was time to start acting as though this was my home again. “Thanks again. See you Monday. Have a good night.”

  “You too, dear. Tell your mother I said hello.”

  “I will.” I waved as I walked out the door.

  My mother was already in bed by the time I returned home. So I quietly made my way up to my bedroom. Because I was unable to sleep, I decided to unpack my things and put them away. I slipped the headphones from my IPod that I found in the mess that was my suitcase then crawled into bed. Sleep was hard to come by lately, and noise seemed to drown out my thoughts. The nightmares had faded, months ago.

  Occasionally flashing back as vivid as the day it happened. I closed my eyes, resting my hand on my chest. As I drifted to sleep images of the forest began; first of my time with Matt, then Mason. Then I heard someone shout my name over the music and I sat up, pulling the earphones from my ears and looked around the room. My heart thudded hard against my ribcage, tears effortlessly falling from my eyes.

  Stretching across my bed, I opened the bedside table drawer and took out a bottle of prescription pills. It had been months since I had needed them, but today after seeing what I saw and heard; the sleeping pills were needed. I tilted the bottle enough to let two peach-coloured pills drop into the palm of my hand, and then grabbed a bottle of water from my hand bag to wash them down. As my head hit the pillows, I tried again to close my eyes and calm my nerves.

&nb
sp; CHAPTER TWO

  The next morning, Cassie woke me up out of a dead sleep. I had forgotten how well the pills worked. It was just after ten when I focused on the clock by my bed. I rubbed my face, apologizing.

  “I didn’t realize how late it was .” I croaked.

  “I can’t believe you slept in this long.” She flopped down on the bed next to me. “Whatever happened to the girl who was up at the crack of dawn no matter how late we were out drinking?” she teased.

  “Age caught up to me,” I joked.

  “Nah, that’s not it.” She turned onto her side. “Get dressed. We’ll go have breakfast at the club, then go shopping.”

  “The club?” My brow rose.

  “Don’t tell me you have forgotten about the club?” Cassie turned towards me, laughing.

  “No, that I have not forgotten.” I sighed. “And shopping for what?”

  “We need dresses for the masquerade my parents are throwing for Halloween.” She clapped her hands excitedly as she sat up. “Remember those back in high school?”

  “Yes.” I said, trying to smile.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged. “It just seems as if nothing has changed here, except me.”

  “That’s what L.A. does to you, sweetheart.” She smirked.

  “I don’t have money to spend on a dress,” I said, dragging myself out of the bed.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She hopped off the bed.

  “Cassie—”

  “Ah, don’t you dare say it. We are shopping and you’re going to stick your pride where the sun doesn’t shine, because you are my best friend and I have not seen you in forever.” She scooped me up in her arms, spinning me around to face the mirror on my wall, her cheek against mine. “We are going to show these old folks what it means to party, and you are going to enjoy it!” She walked me to the bathroom. “Hurry up.” Locking the door behind me, I turned and stared at myself in the mirror. The puffiness under my eyes was proof of my tear-filled night.

  After fighting with the tangles in my hair, I gave up and tied it in a ponytail. I scrubbed my face with cleanser, patting it dry, then swiped a toner over my face and added a bit of cream, lightly dabbing under my eyes, wishing the bags away. “Nothing a little foundation couldn’t hide,” I muttered.

  When I got back to my room, Cassie had already raided my closet and picked out clothes for me. My eyes fell on the bed where she laid out my clothes: a pair of dark skinny jeans, creamcoloured circular hem sweater, black-and-beige flats. “So glad you have such classy taste.” Cassie giggled, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

  “Thanks.” I shrugged, then changed into the outfit and checked myself out in the mirror. It was a cute ensemble. I had never worn these particular pieces together, but Cassie had a pristine eye for fashion. As we exited my room, I grabbed my bag off the dresser.

  “Morning, girls,” my mother said, stopping us as we got to the main floor. “I have coffee and scones on if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but we are going to the club for breakfast.”

  “Okay. Have a good day.” She smiled, hugging her arms close.

  Before I left, I turned back and walked towards my mother, kissing her cheek before leaving. That put a smile on her face.

  Back when I lived at home, Mom was the town’s social butterfly. I remember her being friends with everyone. She went to their house parties and costume balls. I used to love watching her get ready on those big nights out. However, since Dad died, she had kept to herself. She didn’t want the members at the club treating her differently because she was a widow. My mother is a proud woman and never asked for pity or handouts.

  Not that she needed it. Mom and Dad had done well, not quite in the same category as, say, the Harpers or the Porters, maybe a class just below them. Dad was an engineer and Mom was a nurse.

  “Are you sure I’m not underdressed for this?” I asked shyly.

  “I picked your outfit, Lauren. Trust me. You are going to be fine.” She giggled, taking my arm in hers. “Everyone is going to die when you walk in,” Cassie said, turning off the alarm on her car.

  “I doubt that,” I scoffed.

  “Are you kidding me? You were all everyone talked about since the last time you came to visit,” she said, crossing her arms. “Just because you don’t live on Skyline Road doesn’t mean you are not noticed.” She said and rolled her eyes at me. “You should meet my cousin Mason. You’ll love him—all the girls do. He should be there this morning.”

  “Uh, Cassie—”

  “Shush and get in.” She shut her door and started the car.

  Hesitantly I climbed in the front seat. It had been a year since Matt died, but I didn’t feel ready to start seeing anyone else. The idea of falling in love all over again was not appealing, especially with men such as Mason Foster to choose from. A rich kid who probably didn’t know what it felt like to lose anything.

  We pulled up to the front of the country club twenty minutes later. A valet walked around the front of the car, nodding at Cassie as she got out. He handed Cassie a tag as he got in her car. Cassie linked her arm with mine, and together making our way in through the front doors. It was just as I remembered; glossy dark maple wood floors, beige walls with crown moulding. On the floor were several round tables with dark green fabric cushioned chairs, and a bar in the corner of the room. As we walked in, incoherent chatter filled the room—until I entered. It fell silent and it appeared as if everyone was staring at me. I looked down at the ground nervously. Cassie ignored everyone as she walked through the dining room with her head up and her arm wrapped around me tightly. We stopped at a table where her mother and father were seated.

  “Morning,” she said, approaching. “Sorry we’re late.” She tilted her head sweetly. “Cassie.” Her mother looked up at her. Cassie let go of my arm and walked around to hug and kiss her mother, then her father.

  “Mom, Dad, you remember Lauren Miller.” She introduced me, and it felt just as uncomfortable as it did the first time I had met them fifteen years ago.

  “Yes, of course. How are you, dear?” her mother asked, leaning over to shake my hand.

  “Very well. Thank you for asking,” I said, giving her hand a gentle shake.

  “How was L.A., Lauren?” Cassie’s father asked, making light conversation.

  “An experience,” I said with a smile. There were three others sitting at the table. I recognized the woman but couldn’t place who she was.

  “This is Abigail Foster”—Mrs. Harper said, introducing us as Abigail smiled and nodded—“her husband, Spencer, and that is her son Mason.” I smiled, nodding at who was paying attention to me.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said giving a polite smile and a wave instead of reaching across the table.

  “Mason!” Abigail tapped him on the shoulder. “My son the social butterfly,” she scowled and rolled her eyes at him as he slowly turned to face her. “If only he was as good at finding a job as he is at being social.” He had been leaning over the back of his chair, speaking with a girl at the other table who now glared at me.

  “What?” He hiss at her and turned to face me. That’s when I gasped and practically jumped out of my skin. I never imagined the Mason Cassie was talking about would be the same one I met yesterday.

  She clucked her tongue at him. “We have company.”

  “We always have company. It’s nothing new.” He scowled, wagging his brow and smirking at me.

  “Manners, Mason.” She tapped his leg.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Hey.” He said.

  “Uh—hi,” I stuttered. Everyone looked at me oddly except for Mason, who turned away again.

  “Have you met before?” Cassie asked, looking over at me, then at the back of Mason’s head. Mason immediately spun around and stared for a moment.

  “Sort of.” I said, biting my bottom lip and taking my seat. “Do tell.” Cassie leaned closer to me.

 
Mason’s eyes lit up, a grin stretched across his perfect lips and he snapped his fingers remembering. “Oh, right. The—girl who talks to herself,” he chuckled. My mouth dropped. That was how he remembered me.

  I crossed my arms and scowled at him. “I was not talking to myself.”

  “Well, you were talking to someone and I certainly didn’t see anyone else around,” he joked.

  “I’m surprised you remembered anything considering the amount of alcohol in your system,” I snapped.

  Mason’s head jerked back and he gave me a crooked smile, then he leaned back in his chair, his eyes focused on mine. I could feel my adrenaline pumping the angrier I became.

  “Lauren!” Cassie cupped her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her smile.

  “Then I guess your recollection of the day’s events would have more detail than mine.” The grin on his face widened. He was a real piece of work. “If I recall, you even tried to kiss me.”

  “That’s absurd,” I retorted. The sting on my cheeks flared red.

  “You don’t have to hide it. All the girls love me,” he chided.

  “Mason,” His mother scolded.

  “Will you excuse me? I suddenly don’t feel hungry.” I threw the napkin from my lap onto the plate. “It was a pleasure meeting you all.”

  “Lauren,” Cassie grabbed her hand. “That was rude, Mason.” Cassie said.

  “What is wrong with you, Mason?” his mother scolded. I stared Mason down but he didn’t say anything else. His jaw clenched, and he sat there silent for a moment before turning around and continuing his conversation with the girl at the other table. I then turned and walked away.

  “My son has been rather unruly lately,” Abigail apologized as she took a sip of her tea.

  “Lauren,” Cassie called out as she followed closer. “What was that about?” She grabbed my arm.

  “Nothing.” I pulled free. Life had never changed here, I didn’t fit in back in high school, and I certainly don’t fit in now. “That was not nothing? Did you really try to kiss him?”

  “NO!” I blurted. “He was drunk, Cassie. Drunk to the point that he barely was able to walk,” I replied. “I offered him a ride home, without knowing who he was, even though he had been such a jerk beforehand. I can’t believe he is your cousin,” I said, shaking my head.