Can't Go Back

by Marie Meyer

  “Jillibean?” I said again, still waiting to hear her voice. “Jillian, you’re scaring the shit out of me. Say something,” I demanded. My heart beat hard against my ribs. Something was wrong.

  “I’m…here,” she croaked.

  I paced up and down the sidewalk, taking long strides in an attempt to keep from getting on my bike and driving to Rhode Island right that second. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  She was too quiet. I knew this girl too well, and I could tell she was hiding something. “That’s bullshit. I can tell something’s wrong.” I pulled in a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Jillian didn’t need me freaking out on her. “Just tell me what it is, so I can help you.”

  I could hear her deep breaths on the other end, followed by the words I feared the most. “I hurt myself.”

  I sank onto the bench near the edge of the sidewalk. Terrible images of the day I found Jillian covered in blood and nearly dead in her bathroom flooded my vision.

  I pulled in a long breath. She needed me calm right now. I had to pull myself together, for her sake. “How did you hurt yourself?”

  Sounding like a robot, she recounted the events that had led to this phone call. “In the studio, I was cutting fabric…I sliced my finger.”

  I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath that whole time, but a long whoosh of air escaped my lungs, passing loudly over my lips. I ran my free hand through my hair, clutching a fistful, giving myself something to hold on to. If I could have stood, I would have, but the fact that she was hurt and I wasn’t there with her was a stronger punch to the gut than one of the guys nailing me with his fist.

  I drew in another breath, slowly letting it out, giving the oxygen time to make it to my brain. I needed a level head right now. She needed me to be strong…to help her. I’d done it once, I could do it again.

  I would do it again. I’d do any goddamned thing for this girl.

  “It’s OK, Bean,” I said on an exhalation. “It was an accident, right?” I prayed it had been an accident. Let it have been an accident. These things are bound to happen, right? She’s around sharp objects all the time. She’s going to cut herself. Fashion people cut themselves all the time, right?

  I couldn’t stop speculating. I couldn’t stop worrying. I wanted to fucking scream. If she were here, I could fix this.

  A quiet sound broke through my silent ranting. “Mmm-hmm,” Jillian answered.

  “Is your finger all right?” Truthfully, I wasn’t worried about her finger. She’d survived worse cuts than this little one. I wanted her to talk to me. I was worried about her frame of mind. She didn’t sound good. Why had this cut freaked her out so badly?

  “It felt…good, Griffin. For a split second, I thought about…”

  And there it was. A relapse was staring her in the face. I needed to get to her. But the miles between us prevented me from getting there as quickly as either of us would have preferred. She needed help now. When I’d found out she was cutting five years ago, I’d seen to it that she talked to someone. Even with all of her ranting and hateful words, I sucked it up because her well-being was more important than what she thought of me at the time. Now was no different.

  “Jillian, you need to call Dr. Hoffman. You promised if things got too crazy, you’d call her.”

  “I’m so stressed, Griff. I’m not cut out for this.” Her voice gave a little hitch and I could tell she was holding back tears. What I wouldn’t give right now to wrap her up and hold her tight. God, this hurts.

  “Will you please call Dr. Hoffman? At least talk to her until I get there.”

  “What? You’re coming here?” she choked.

  There was no way in hell I wasn’t going to visit her now. Erin would just have to fucking deal. “I was planning on visiting you for Thanksgiving, since I knew you weren’t coming home. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “Griffin…”

  By the way my name fell from her lips, I knew I’d just made her smile. I already felt better. I’d kept one of my promises. I would always do what I could to make her smile.

  “But,” I continued, not giving her a chance to finish her exclamation, “I’ll only come on one condition. You have to call Dr. Hoffman. Promise me,” I demanded.

  And just like that, the sun rose in her voice. “I will. I promise.” If she hadn’t been smiling before, I knew she was now. I could feel the smile in her words, like warm rays of sunshine on my face.

  “Good.” A sigh of relief washed over me, and I basked in the incandescence of her words. The cold pang of fear that had wrapped around my heart loosened its vise grip, and I could breathe again. But she still needed a distraction from the cut on her finger. The last thing I wanted was for her to fall back into those old habits. “So you’re cooking me a Thanksgiving feast, right?” I joked, changing the subject.

  “Um…no.” A breathy laugh touched my ears, followed by a sniffle.

  Feeling came back into my legs, and I stood. “Wow. You treat all of your guests like that? Or do you save your top-notch hostessing skills just for me?”

  “I’m not in culinary school, Griff.”

  OK, this was good. She sounded like my Jillibean again. “Damn.” I gave a teasing groan. “And here I thought you’d be so happy to see me, I’d get a five-course feast out of the deal.”

  “How does pizza sound?” she asked playfully.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a secret that Jillian couldn’t cook worth shit, and she had terrible taste in food. “Now that’s a Thanksgiving feast I can’t resist. But,” I warned, “none of that shitty fancy pizza. Normal pizza, just meat and cheese.”

  “And pineapple,” she added.

  “Ugh. Being a sophisticated college woman hasn’t refined your palate any.” I walked up and down the sidewalk, kicking rocks to the grass.

  “Nope.” She giggled. An effervescent sound. I could listen to her laugh forever. With her happiness still echoing through my ears, I’d forgotten to how to speak. “Griff? You still there?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” All the tension from minutes before melted away in that moment. Just a small giggle from her had set my world back on its axis. “It’s just good to hear you laugh. You feel better now?” I asked quietly, fearing I’d ruin the lightness of the conversation we were having now. But I needed to know. If she wasn’t right, I’d leave for Providence tonight. Eighteen hours wouldn’t stand in my way when it came to her well-being.

  Before she answered, there was a lot of shifting and rustling on her end of the line. Then she said, “Yeah, thanks to you.” Her voice trailed off, wavering at the end. “You always have a way of making everything OK.”

  With a strong voice, I reiterated what I’d told her so many years ago. “I promised you a long time ago that I’d always try to make you feel better…I’m just glad I still can.”

  Quietly she added, “Forever.”

  Again there was sadness in her voice that knocked the breath out of my lungs.

  “I should probably get back to class,” she said.

  “Don’t forget to call Dr. Hoffman.” I spoke up, clearing my throat. “I’ll be there in a couple of days. Take care of yourself, do you hear me?”

  “I will, I promise.” There was a slight tremble in her voice. “Night, Griff.”

  “Night, Bean,” I replied softly.

  Then the line was quiet and she was gone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The roar of a wild crowd filled the living room the second Thor’s wide receiver passed into the end zone. He spiked the controller between his legs and stood up, arms raised above his head. “Aw, yeah. Take that, Daniels.” He pointed at me, a smug grin on his face. “The season is mine,” he bellowed. He pumped his hands up and down as if to spur on his simulated fans.

  I rested my elbows on my knees and let the controller slip through my fingers, dropping my head in defeat. “Shit.”

  “I ran all over your bitch
ass,” he continued to gloat. “You’re off your game, man.”

  And he wasn’t wrong. The last couple days had been hell. I’d been a nervous wreck since Jillian had called about the cut she’d gotten in class. And the blowup I’d had with Erin earlier tonight hadn’t helped matters. She was furious when I confirmed I’d be spending Thanksgiving in Rhode Island. I tried to explain the situation to her, but she didn’t want to hear it. Before I left tonight, she told me not to call her until I had my shit figured out.

  I hoped this trip would help me do that.

  I shook off my loss and looked up. Thor rubbed a hand over his shaved head, flashing a shit-eating grin.

  “You have no idea,” I muttered.

  “Rematch?” Thor asked, bending over to retrieve his controller.

  I lowered my hand and snagged mine off the carpet. “Nah. Long day tomorrow.” I pushed out of my favorite black leather recliner, sending it rocking back and forth. I tossed the controller in the chair and headed for the kitchen. I needed a drink.

  “Daniels,” Thor called, after he verbally told the Xbox to shut down. He came up behind me. “What’s up with you, man?” he asked. “I thought you’d be excited about this trip.”

  I went to the refrigerator and pulled a bottle of water from the door. Twisting off the cap, I kicked the door closed. I took a long swig, wishing it were beer. Why do women have to be so complicated?

  Sucking down the last of the water, I chucked the empty bottle across the room, missing the garbage can entirely.

  Thor went to the fridge and took the beer I wanted. “I don’t get you, man.” He placed the cap at the edge of the counter and slammed his free hand down, popping off the top with ease. “You’ve been testy all week. I thought a trip east would set you right.” Thor took a long pull on the bottle and leaned against the counter.

  I watched Thor put away one beer and then go for a second. “It’s complicated,” I said.

  “Well, whatever the fuck it is, you have to pull it together, man.” Thor set his half-empty bottle on the counter and walked toward me.

  He slapped his hands down on my shoulders and looked me square in the eyes. “Who do you want, man?” he asked, point-blank.

  I shrugged him off and started for the stairs. I was not having this conversation with him.

  “When you heading out?” he called after me.

  “Early.”

  Despite my being halfway up the stairs, he continued the conversation. “Your girlfriend know you’re going?”

  “None of your business,” I called down the stairs.

  “If you ask me, you’re with the wrong one.”

  “Didn’t ask. Night, Thor.”

  I opened the door to my room and waded through piles of dirty clothes and discarded pages of sheet music on my way to the bed. Peeling my t-shirt off, I added it to the collection on the floor before stepping out of my jeans. The ceiling fan whirled overhead, blowing cool air onto my bare chest and legs. I fell onto the mattress, the old king-size bed frame groaning from the force. I didn’t bother with the blankets, I enjoyed the chill.

  I stole a look at the clock: one a.m. I exhaled in frustration and flopped onto my stomach. I needed to get some shut-eye. Bunching the pillow into a ball under my head, I closed my eyes just in time to hear my phone play a Mark Sandman bass riff.

  I shifted to the side of the bed and reached for my jeans. Mark worked his bass over as I freed my phone from the pocket. As soon as I had a grip on it, I rolled onto my back and answered. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Erin was quiet…reticent.

  For an awkward moment neither of us spoke. The faint sound of her slow breathing filled the silence.

  Then she whispered, “Sorry I called so late.” Her Southern drawl touched my ears.

  “No problem.” I was surprised, though; she’d been pissed off when I left.

  “You still planning on going tomorrow?” Her question was equal parts sad and irritated.

  I understood Erin’s complaint about me visiting Jillian. I’d tried to explain how important it was that I go, especially after that damn phone call on Monday.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “Yeah.”

  There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Griffin, after you left, I got to thinking.”

  “About what?” I massaged my forehead, trying to relieve the building pressure.

  “I think this trip is a good thing.”

  I stilled my fingers. “Really?” She hadn’t been thinking that a few hours ago.

  “Yeah. I really like you, Griffin. You’re smart, kind, respectful, fun.” She paused for a beat. “Andreallyfreakingsexy.” Her words came out in a breathy jumble.

  “Erin,” I intoned. She didn’t have to shower me with compliments.

  “No, wait. Let me finish.” She took a deep breath and jumped back in. “I like us…a lot. We’re good together. We have fun. But we need to use this little break to figure things out. I want more, Griffin. More than just having fun together. When you get back, it needs to be all or nothing.”

  I agreed. “You’re a peach, you know that, right?”

  She gave a humorless laugh. “Just honest.”

  “Thank you, Erin.”

  She let out a long breath. “OK. See you in a few days. Be careful.”

  “I will. Bye, Peach.”

  “Bye.”

  The line went dead.

  With the phone still in hand, I set the alarm for five a.m. and put it on the bedside table. I rolled back onto my stomach and shoved my arms beneath the pillow. My eyes fell to the tattoo circling my right bicep. Always protects. Always trusts. Always hopes. Always perseveres. Never fails. Each line was how I felt about Jillian.

  Erin was right, I needed to figure shit out. I shook my head, searching for the clear answer. Erin or Jillian.

  The way I saw it, I had only two options: work things out with Erin and shut down my feelings for Jillian, or end things with Erin and shut down my feelings for Jillian.

  No matter the scenario, Jillian was off-limits.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pulling into the well-lit gas station, I unlatched the driver’s side door and unfolded my legs from the sardine can that Ren called a car. God, I miss my bike. As soon as I had extricated myself from the vehicle, I stood and stretched. My back snapped in protest. Miatas were not made for people over six feet tall.

  Shutting the car door, I walked over to the pump and swiped my credit card. I read and answered several questions as they popped up on the screen, becoming more irritated by the minute. No, I don’t want a goddamned car wash! It’s fucking freezing outside!

  After my game of twenty questions with the pump, the attendant finally clicked it on and I could fill up my car.

  I set the pump to fill automatically, shoved my hands into the small pockets of my leather jacket, and bounced on the balls of my feet to keep warm.

  As I waited, I wondered what Jillian was up to. How does she occupy her time? It was so strange not knowing the girl I used to know so well. A lot had changed in two months.

  The gas pump clicked off and snapped me back to reality. I shivered as I dislodged the pump and screwed on the gas cap. Once I folded myself back into the car, I fired her up and headed back to I-95 North.

  I set the cruise and let off the accelerator. With the car on autopilot, I peeled my ass off the seat and retrieved my phone from my back pocket. I laid it in my lap and fumbled around the passenger seat for Ren’s aux cable. Once I had the cord, I carefully plugged my phone in while trying to keep the car on the road. Soon The National’s newest album blared from the speakers.

  I adjusted Ren’s EQ settings, cranking the bass so Scott Devendorf’s sound would fill the car. I listened. My fingers danced on the steering wheel as if it were the neck of my bass.

  When the song came to the bridge, I belted the lyrics along with Matt Berninger. These guys were fucking amazing. Gearing up for the chorus, I took in a huge breath and let my voice go, just
like I would at a gig. But Matt’s voice didn’t back me up, instead it was my own voice coming through the speakers—Jillian’s ringtone.

  Grabbing my phone from my lap, I glanced at the screen and pressed “Answer.”

  “Where are you?” she shouted. Her voice filled the car, coming through the stereo speakers.

  I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “I just had to stop for gas. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “Well, hurry up!” she demanded.

  “I am.” I laughed. She was so damn cute when she was excited and the fact that she was excited to see me made her that much fucking cuter. “I’m—” The line went dead and Matt’s voice filtered through the speakers again. I shook my head. Typical Jillian, she always had trouble focusing on one task at a time when she was excited about something.

  I tossed my phone on the passenger seat, tried my best to get comfortable (even though the damn wheel was in my chest), and focused on the next song on The National’s album.

  After I’d listened to a couple of songs twice, my exit crept up sooner than I’d thought. I turned onto the off-ramp and stayed alert, knowing a turn was coming up. Once I made it into the heart of Providence, I would be on campus before I knew it.

  Having only driven this route once, I surprised myself by how well I’d remembered the directions when I turned into the back parking lot of Jillian’s dorm. I killed the engine and got out of the car as best I could without looking like a total dumbass. I hated Ren’s car with a passion. I pulled the lever that brought the seat forward, grabbed my duffel bag from the backseat, and headed toward the dorm’s rear entrance. I dialed Jillian’s number and waited for her to pick up.

  On the first ring, I heard her voice. “Griff?” she shouted.

  I smiled. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

  “Ahh! You’re early!” she screamed. I pulled the phone away, worried her squealing would bust my eardrum. “I’m on my way down!” And once again the line went dead.

  I slipped my phone into my back pocket and waited in the freezing cold. Seconds later Jillian emerged from the staircase and ran toward the door, crashing into it at full speed. I gave her a casual wave and stepped out of the way before the door took me out. But it wasn’t the door that threatened to knock me on my ass, it was Jillian, leaping into my arms.