The Pain in Loving You

by Steiner, Kandi

  For a few moments I just breathed, thinking on what she’d said. It seemed too simple, too cliché, and yet at the same time it felt real.

  “What do I do?”

  Jenna paused, and I continued staring up at my ceiling, like the answer would fall down from the floor above.

  “You call your boss and tell him you won’t be in on Monday. Then, you book the earliest flight for tomorrow, you go shopping and get your hair done with your best friend, and you go get your man.”

  I laughed. “That’s so dramatic.”

  “Love often is.”

  I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders and turned on my side, curling my legs to my chest. “What if he doesn’t want to see me? We haven’t talked since that night.”

  “Stop making excuses and book the damn flight. I’m hanging up now. See you tomorrow.”

  A sad laugh crept out of me. “I love you.”

  “You too. Text me your flight info.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know,” I said, and she ended the phone call before I could thank her.

  I was still terrified. I wasn’t sure if I could do this, if I could do long distance, if I could be with Jamie and handle the pressure of a relationship along with the pressure at work. But if anything, Jenna had opened my eyes to the fact that I had been running from Jamie, and only for selfish reasons. I’d never shown him that he was important in my life, and he was. It was time I showed it.

  And maybe love was scary, but with Jamie, it was amazing, too. It hurt worse to live without him, and I’d realized that now.

  I emailed my boss, booked a flight, and then I finished my bottle of wine, all the while wishing it were Whiskey, instead. That was the night I convinced myself that I could take control of my life, of my relationship with Jamie, if only I made the decision to. Face your fear, and you can conquer anything — right? But what I neglected to realize was that even when it seems like everything has finally clicked into place, the biggest player in the game of life is timing — and you either have that player on your team, or you don’t.

  That weekend, I would learn quickly and painfully that timing was never on our side.

  • • •

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet you there?”

  I shook my head before realizing Jenna couldn’t see me. “Nope, just touching up and then going inside. I want to do it on my own.”

  “Okay. I mean, not that I’m anxious to go and then be left behind when you guys go back to his place to bang all night but you can totally pull the best friend card if you need to.”

  I laughed, applying a fresh coat of dark burgundy lipstick. My gray eyes popped against the smoky shadow Jenna had showed me how to do and my lashes were long and dark. “I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will. Just be honest with him and then make up all night long.”

  “I like the picture you paint.”

  “Well shit, maybe I should just quit law school and be an artist.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bye, Jenna.”

  Once I was alone in my mom’s car, I let out a long, slow, shaky breath, staring at my reflection in the small visor mirror. My cheeks were hinted with a blush and my hair was styled with tight curls. I’d shopped all day with Jenna, and she was right — I felt more confident in a new pair of skin-tight leather leggings and deep v-neck blouse. I slid out of my sandals and pulled my heels from the passenger seat, putting them on one by one before bracing my hands on the steering wheel again. I let myself stall for thirty more seconds, then I grabbed my clutch and made my way inside.

  I’d planned to show up at his house, but ended up running into his youngest sister at the mall when I was with Jenna. She’d told me he was going out tonight, to his favorite bar, celebrating after the hellish week they’d had at work. Busy season happened two times a year for them — February to May, and September through November. They’d survived, and I hoped me showing up would add to the celebration.

  It was dark in the bar, and even though my stomach was tight with anticipation, I didn’t seek Jamie out at first. Instead, I headed straight for the bar, sliding up on a barstool and flagging down the bartender. This was my first strategic move for two reasons: one, I needed libations to get through my nerves, and two, I was half-hoping Jamie would see me first. I was ready, I knew everything I wanted to say, but it would be easier if he had to make the walk across the bar to me. If he simply strutted up with that beautiful smile of his and asked, “What are you doing here?” with wonder in his eyes. Then, I could spill my heart like they do in the movies, and we’d spend the night the way Jenna imagined.

  That’s what I hoped for, but it wasn’t what I got.

  I did get a glass of Makers Mark on the rocks, a sweet bourbon that was easy to drink and made me feel a little less tightly wound. And then, I got hit on.

  “Whiskey girl, huh?” a sweet voice asked. I turned, glass still at my lips, and found a strikingly beautiful woman on the bar stool next to me.

  I nodded, smiling as I finished swallowing. “Yeah. You?”

  She held up her bottle of Bud Light. “Nah, more of a cheap beer gal myself.” She grinned wide, her sea-green eyes raking over me slowly. She reminded me a little of Mona with her long dark hair and exotic features, but Mona wore a constant look of distaste while this woman’s smile was warm and inviting. “I’m Claire.”

  “B,” I said, tipping my glass to her before taking another sip.

  “Bee, huh? Like the bumble?”

  I laughed. “Like the letter. It’s just my first initial.”

  “Ah, makes sense now. Well, B, what brings you to this shit hole of a bar?”

  The fist in my stomach gripped tighter. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten. “I’m here to see about a boy.”

  Disappointment settled in over her features, but she masked it with an easy smile. “Of course, should have known you’d be taken. Not going to lie, I was kind of counting my lucky stars that you slid up next to me looking all sweet, innocent, and lonely.”

  I laughed again, harder this time. “You’re pretty bold.”

  “Beating around the bush is for pussies,” she said with a wink, sipping from her beer. “Speaking of which, I have to say, totally thought you played on my team.”

  “Should I take that as a compliment?”

  She shrugged, gathering her hair to one side of her neck. “Take it however you want.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but my eyes caught on a large table across the bar behind Claire. It took a moment for them to adjust, but once they did, I couldn’t find another breath, let alone another word.

  Claire turned, following my gaze and turning back to me with raised eyebrows. “Disgustingly cute, aren’t they?” She took another drink. “Try being around it twenty-four-seven. That’s my best friend, Angel. She’s been with this guy for — what? Maybe four months now? Pining over him for almost a year before that. He was all heartbroken over some chick he tried doing long distance with, but she was determined to break through that shit. Got to be honest, I told her to give it up, but eventually he took her up on a coffee date and the rest is history.” She chuckled. “Gross, PDA history.”

  Claire was a talker, that much I figured out, and she kept going — on and on and on — but her words faded out as my heartbeat grew louder and louder between my ears. There he was, my Whiskey, but he’d never really been mine. That notion had never struck me quite as hard as it did in that moment I saw him with another woman in his lap, her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist as he looked up at her just like he used to look at me. Every now and then, she’d drop her lips to his, and his hand around her waist would tighten, along with the knot in my stomach. They were both smiling, laughing, happy.

  And then I did the math. Four months would put them together in August, which either meant he’d moved on quickly or they’d been fucking around when we were still together. But we weren’t together, not really, an
d that was the harshest zinger of all.

  Acid rose in my throat and I pushed it back down with a long swig of Makers, turning in my seat to face the bar again.

  “Whoa, you okay, sweets? Looking a little pale there,” Claire said, cocking a brow.

  I nodded, at least I think I did. I couldn’t be sure. The music had morphed, slow, bass pounding along with my heart. I drained the rest of my drink, which only added to my nausea, then I stood abruptly, the bar stool screeching against the floor with the force. “Nice meeting you.”

  “You too?” She said it almost as a question, eying me as I grabbed my clutch and made to bolt for the door. But new high heels and rushing didn’t mix with nerves, or anger, which I felt slowly bubbling, so I slipped, falling against the two guys who were seated right next to us. I mumbled an apology, pushing my way through the gathering crowd toward the door when I heard my name called over my shoulder. I ignored it, quickening my pace until I finally pushed through the exit. I inhaled a deep breath once the cool air hit my skin, nearly doubling over. For a second I stood, fumbling for my keys, and just as I steadied them and hit the unlock button on my car, I heard my name again.

  “B?”

  I couldn’t catch a full breath, my chest squeezing with every attempt. I was going to pass out if I didn’t calm down. I found my balance again before walking toward the parking lot, but glanced a look over my shoulder. “Oh, hey Jamie. Uh, yeah, I was just leaving though so—”

  “Wait.” He hooked a strong hand around my elbow and as soon as his skin touched mine, my entire body buzzed to life, just like it always did in the presence of Whiskey. I let him stop me, but I couldn’t lift my eyes to his, so I stared at the hem of his shirt instead. “What are you doing here?”

  There it was. There was the question I imagined him asking, only when I brought myself to look at him, his eyes weren’t full of wonder — they were full of accusation. And that was all it took to tip my bubbling anger over the edge, the scalding liquid of it searing any rationality I had tried to hold onto.

  “I’m here visiting my mom. I would ask you what you’re doing, but I have eyes, so,” I said, pulling my elbow from his grasp and motioning toward the bar with my tongue pressed hard against the inside of my cheek.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, I think you know exactly what it’s supposed to mean,” I seethed. What was wrong with me? The last thing I wanted when I showed up tonight was a fight, but apparently the whiskey mixed with what I’d seen had lit a fire in my stomach that couldn’t be put out easily. I folded my arms and stepped closer, causing Jamie to inhale a stiff breath at our proximity. “Tell me, did you fuck her the night before you asked me to talk? Did you feel guilty and desperate to lock me down before the pressure of long distance took you under?”

  “What?” Jamie’s nose flared and I felt every muscle in him coil with tension without even having to lay a finger on him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the little pixie blonde who was just mauling your face,” I answered. “Angel is her name, right?” Jamie blanched at that, and I smirked, feeling like I’d won when I knew I was the clear loser before I even walked into the bar. “Oh yeah, Claire? Her BFF? She filled me in on the whole situation when I spotted you two sucking face.”

  Jamie’s shoulders were squared, like he was waiting for me to start swinging. I was almost to the point where I could, madness radiating off me like steam from a hot summer rain. I hated him. I hated myself. I wanted to run away as much as I wanted to pound my fists on his chest.

  “And?” he finally challenged, stepping into my space this time. I sniffed, my eyes dipping away from his for a moment, but I didn’t back away. “What, are you mad? Is that what you’re trying to say? Because I’d be really fucking interested to hear why you think you have any right to be.”

  “Just tell me, okay? You cheated on me, didn’t you? I was in Pittsburgh, and she was here, and it was easier with her, right?” I shook my head. “Why did you even make the big gesture? Why not just tell me?”

  “You think I ch—?” He couldn’t even get the entire sentence out. It died on his lips, killed by a sinister laugh and his hands rushing back through his hair. It was longer than the last time I’d seen it, just how I liked it. I wanted my hands in it, instead. I wanted his mouth on mine. Even now, even raging mad, I needed him. “Angel and I didn’t start talking until October, not that that is any of your goddamn business. She asked me out countless times over the summer and I turned her down every single fucking time because of you. Not because it would have been cheating, since you made it perfectly clear that we were not a couple, but because I loved you, B.”

  This time I did flinch, and I stepped back quickly, suddenly uncomfortable from the heat I felt from his skin. But Jamie wasn’t backing down, and he pushed into my space more, until my back was against the brick wall of the building and I had to look away.

  “I fucking loved you, and you loved me, too. But you wouldn’t be with me. Not when I asked, not when I begged, not when I proved to you that we could do it. You were the one who didn’t—” Again, his words were cut short, and he dropped his gaze to our feet. I took the opportunity to look at him again, and his jaw ticked under the skin as his eyes slowly climbed back to mine. “You’re wearing heels.”

  The heat in his gaze took a hard turn away from anger as those words left his mouth in a low, gravelly voice. It was primal now, and each breath he took felt connected to mine as I watched it leave his chest. The last time he commented on my heels, they ended up wrapped around his waist. Everything inside me craved that same connection, but the wine-stained lipstick smears from another woman on Jamie’s lips annihilated that yearning like the snuffing of a flame.

  “And you’re wearing lipstick,” I breathed, closing my eyes tight as the images of Angel on his lap assaulted my vision. I didn’t want to fight anymore, I just wanted to leave.

  It took a moment, but Jamie pushed himself off the wall, and I creaked my eyes open just in time to see him wipe at his bottom lip with his thumb. He shook his head, like he was disappointed — in himself or me, I couldn’t be sure.

  “Why are you really here?”

  “I missed you,” I answered honestly. I was always honest with Jamie, even when it hurt.

  He cringed, two parallel lines forming between his brows as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, no you don’t get to say that to me.” He shook his head, dropping his hand as his eyes opened again. “I’m finally happy,” he whispered, with a delirious chuckle. “Okay? Is that alright with you, B? Do I have your permission to be fucking happy?”

  My jaw dropped, and I opened my mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words before Jamie held up his hands to stop me.

  “God, you are the most selfish woman I have ever met. Let me guess, you missed me, so you thought you could just get on a flight and I’d be here waiting for you, right? Because that’s exactly what I did for three years in California, so why wouldn’t you think that? But guess what? You wanted me to let you go so badly, and this time, I listened.” His eyes were wide, wild, and he was shaking hard. “So no, you don’t get to show up here and tell me you missed me. You don’t get to—”

  “Stop,” I choked, pushing myself off the wall and walking as quickly as my heels would allow me toward my car. “Stop, Jamie.”

  He followed me. “What, too much for you to handle?”

  “I hate you!” I spat, spinning in place and charging back toward him a few steps. “Go back inside, I’m sure Angel is waiting.”

  “Oh, she is.” He grinned, walking with me a few steps more when I started back toward the car. “And I intend to make her wait. All night long. Remember how fun that always was? Making you wait until you couldn’t stand it anymore?” His breath was hot on my neck even as we walked, and though my fists clenched in anger, my thighs clenched in memory. “Making you squirm under my hands, my mouth…”

  �
�Fuck you, Jamie.”

  He laughed. “Goddamnit, you drive me crazy. You literally make me insane.”

  “Well good thing I’m leaving,” I threw behind me, climbing into my car and hitting the lock button. Jamie was right outside my window as I sparked it to life.

  “Yeah. Good thing. That does seem to be your specialty, doesn’t it?”

  I whipped toward him, found his eyes through the glass as he stared me down. His jaw was set, eyes covered by the shadows from the overhead lights in the parking lot. He was daring me to make the next move, but I was tired of playing the game. I flipped him off with a sweet smile, and then I peeled off, not chancing another look in my rearview.

  Tears found me before I even realized they were threatening to fall. I swiped at them harshly, my hands shaking before a scream ripped through my throat. I hated him, I loved him, I hated myself for loving him. I hated myself for letting him go, for letting him find someone else. I was furious, but the truth was nearly everything he’d said about me was true. I was the one who didn’t want us to be official, I was the one always leaving, and I was selfish.

  I was so fucking selfish.

  In that moment, for no longer than a split second, I realized I was more like my father than I thought.

  I couldn’t stay in that town another night, not knowing he was lying with Angel in his bed not even ten minutes away from me. Not knowing he was happy with another woman, and I was still selfish enough to wish he wasn’t.

  I packed my duffle bag as soon as I got back to Mom’s house and caught a cab to the airport. With nothing more than a few texts to Mom and Jenna, I left South Florida with a new hole burned into my heart.

  If I’d known back then about the Angel’s tax, I would have laughed. They say every year a batch of whiskey goes without being bottled, each year it’s aged, four percent of alcohol evaporates — and that’s the Angel’s share. It really was funny, then, that I’d neglected to bottle Jamie up for myself and so he’d been stolen by a woman named Angel. I maybe could have laughed if I’d known that story back then, but then again, maybe not. Because the truth was it wasn’t funny.