by Tia Lewis
My breath caught in my throat. He did have me. But that wasn’t enough.
“That doesn’t matter,” I argued gently. Grayson shook his head fervently as I spoke. “This, whatever it is, isn’t enough.”
“Don’t say that.” His cheeks were tinged a bit pink now. His eyes were that sky blue again, the one that made me warm from the chest out. “It’s not up to you to decide what’s enough for me.”
I couldn’t take this. I realized then, with a start, that Grayson wouldn’t give up. He didn’t have it in him to stop fighting, didn’t realize he was batting for the wrong team. He was going to throw away this movie deal and probably others, all in a stubborn bout of romanticism he’d eventually regret. Chris knew it; I knew it. Grayson didn’t, but Grayson couldn’t. Everything about him was genuine, from the dimple that sometimes formed in the corner of his mouth to the whispered promises that slipped from his lips when our heads were still on the pillows. He liked sweet foods and couldn’t sweep and thought Todd was funny and he was perfect in the mold of my life. But he was also so much more than this. Me, Kyle’s—this would never be enough. He deserved so much that I couldn’t give him.
But I could give him this. I could give him this shove that Chris couldn’t, that Grayson didn’t realize he needed. Grayson had entered my life and made the time start mattering again. I could make sure he didn’t waste any of his.
I could feel my throat closing with the effort to keep my sobs inside my chest and not rake through my whole body, and the effort infuriated me.
“You’re being ridiculous!”
He glared at me. “I’m not!”
“You are. You’re just being stubborn and—and—pigheaded because you can be.” He didn’t even look a bit swayed. “You’re going to, what? Throw your entire life away so you can watch me work in a diner? You’re a movie star.”
“Oh, right, here it is.” He laughed humorlessly. “Maybe I don’t want to just be a movie star anymore!”
“Then try TV!”
He threw his hands up, gesturing around the still blessedly empty diner. “None of that matters, don’t you get it? I was—it wasn’t real. But this—this is real. You and me and blueberry pancakes, Jade. This is real. Everything else—Hollywood or movie stars or whatever, that’s not anything that matters. This is.”
I blinked rapidly, I pulled my hands from underneath his, wrapping my arms around my stomach, desperately trying to hold onto my resolve. Grayson pulled his own hand back more slowly, taking in a deep, shaking breath. His face was open, vulnerability seeping from his pores.
“Fame isn’t real. It’s like you’ve forgotten that I’m just a regular guy.” He hesitated, swallowing thickly. “Just a regular guy falling in love with the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.”
I froze. Grayson offered me a wary smile.
I could say it back. I could get out from behind this stupid table that I ruined and pull him to me, kiss him senseless, and tell him that I loved him. I could never side with Chris on anything ever again and encourage Grayson to stay here, hoping that he never realized what he gave up.
I could say it back.
But I didn’t.
My life slowed down when Grayson entered it, allowing each moment to be felt and seen and full. Because of this, I felt each agonizing second as I locked my jaw, my eyes trained on the slit in the table, as I refused to say a word.
If I opened my mouth, I’d beg him to stay. And he deserved to go.
Eventually, the door opened, the bell chiming. We both looked up to see Alana, who stopped when she saw our expressions.
I couldn’t look at him. My eyes burned and breathing was so hard. I stood up and went to the back, slamming the storage door shut behind me. I held my breath as I listened. Don’t go.
Alana’s voice was too low to hear when she spoke, but I heard the door when it opened again and shut. Then no voices.
Grayson was gone.
I sank to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest as I wrapped my arms around them. My every vein was throbbing, each cell of my body aching as my shoulders shook with the effort to contain the pain inside of me.
Grayson was gone.
Grayson
She didn’t want me. After everything I did to stay here with her and hold onto what mattered—she didn’t want me. I told her I was falling in love with her, and she walked away without a word. I had to leave. I had to get out of there. Maybe Chris had been right all along.
Jade
The first week after Grayson left the diner, I hoped that he was still going to be there. Each customer was met with a disappointed greeting and every day full of anxious hope I shouldn’t have had. I wanted him to leave—needed him to, really—but I never expected Grayson to just up and leave without even saying goodbye.
By the time the second week rolled around, I realized that he wasn’t actually just avoiding the diner. He was just gone.
It was a harsh realization, one that hit me the second I got home from the diner and was taking off my coat. It punched me in the stomach, a hard hit that knocked the air out of me and made my arm shoot out in front of me, pressing against the wall as I tried to keep myself upright.
He was gone. And it was all my fault.
It’s for his own good, I chastised myself, slowly continuing my way into the apartment. It was dark, save the Christmas lights that beamed from the wall, signaling to me that Madeline wasn’t home yet. Good.
I poured myself a drink and threw it back, swallowing quickly so I could finish it off while I was still in the dark kitchen, pressed against the counter top. It burned my throat a little, but I didn’t mind. It was nice to feel something so concrete.
I poured another, this one fuller than the last, and shuffled into the living room. I didn’t bother putting a movie on, just flicked the TV on so it could lowly play whatever had been being watched before it had been switched off. Nighttime TV sucked, but I couldn’t force my thoughts to clear or my mind to focus long enough for it to matter.
How was it that this was what had become of us? Me, drinking in the dark with a constant feeling of emptiness in my chest, and Grayson just gone, missing from my life as if he’d never stumbled into Kyle’s in the first place.
I had always known it would be temporary. But temporary didn’t have to hurt this much, did it? It didn’t have to leave so much carnage behind.
The first time I saw him, I’d had to sit on the floor I was so dumbstruck. The memory tugged at me, all night, whispers of bright hats and slippery smiles and eyes that could change color just from thoughts. Grayson had etched himself into my life so thoroughly that no place was safe from him, no thought or desire or space was free from his ghostly presence. I wanted to punch him for leaving; wanted to kiss him and beg him not to go again.
But he wasn’t around so neither option would work. Instead, I took another long pull from the drink, sighing at the burn as I swallowed.
I finished half the bottle before Madeline came home, her key scraping against the lock in the door. I must’ve muted the TV if I was able to hear that so clearly. I blinked, trying to focus on the screen to figure out what was playing. It proved pointless, so I took another drink.
Madeline smiled when she saw me, but it fell when she took in what I actually looked like. I was sure I was a mess. Sprawled on the futon, eyes glassy, bottle resting between my legs. I didn’t think I was actually bruised or bleeding, but I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out I was. Judging by the concern on Madeline’s face, I just might’ve been.
“Hey,” she said softly. I didn’t reply but nodded the bottle in her direction. Some of it splashed onto the futon, and I bit my bottom lip, eyes welling. It would stain now. Not that it really mattered. It was littered with other stains. My whole life was, really.
No. I wanted this. I caused this. Grayson was probably off signing contracts and getting facials and being carted around like a prince and he deserved it. Deserved better than to hide in a dark hote
l and eat fried, small time diner food for every meal. No, I wouldn’t let my thoughts blame him for this.
Madeline settled herself on the couch next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and placing my head in the crook of her neck, holding me tightly to herself. I let my head drop to rest on her, not fighting when she pried the bottle from my hands.
She took a swig and sat it on the ground by our feet, cuddling closer to me.
“I know you miss him,” she murmured. I was too far gone, too hurt, too drunk, to even bother denying it. “It’s okay to miss people, Jade.”
She lifted her other hand to run through my hair, soothingly petting me as the TV played too lowly and my heart desperately tried to stop cracking.
Another two weeks passed by. I, unfortunately, retained the newfound ability to witness my life fully, even without Grayson around. I experienced every miserable hour as slowly as I had when he was there and then, one day, a few not so miserable hours.
My mood had improved, just a bit, as the days passed. If I stopped moving for a moment, my thoughts would return to Grayson, to how much it hurt, but when I was busy enough, things felt—well, almost normal.
After three of these pretty reasonable days passed in a row, Madeline cornered me in the non-fiction section of The Bookies. I had stopped by to bring her a coffee and her tiny arms wrapped around one of mine, refusing to let me leave until I heard her out. I could have broken out of her embrace, but her face was scrunched seriously, her hair pulled into two tight buns, and, frankly, she was adorable.
I wished, though, that I’d pushed my way out of the store at any cost to her or our friendship. It turned out she was absolutely certain I had to go on a date with a customer she had met earlier that day. She insisted that it was crucial, that I needed to put myself out there if I ever wanted to be able to relax again and that it had to be this guy.
I said no a dozen times and then, after a dozen more maybes, relented.
Maybe, I had thought, it wouldn’t be so bad. Madeline had jumped up and down for a good ten minutes before running to the register to get his number, somehow hopping over abandoned books in her booted heels and not tripping once. I shook my head in wonder. Who was I to second guess Madeline, anyway?
But, it had turned out, I definitely should have.
So bad my ass, I thought, watching as my date tried for the third time to convince me to watch The Horse and the Hound, one of Grayson Sparling’s “absolute best films”.
I ground my teeth together, rubbing at my temples while the guy explained that the movie was really very good and that Grayson Sparling was actually quite awesome in it.
I wanted to tell him that I knew exactly how awesome Grayson Sparling was, thank you very much, and until a month ago, I had actually owned that particular DVD. But Grayson hadn’t wanted anyone to know, and so I just ground my teeth and suggested, now for the fourth time, a different film.
The guy huffed in annoyance. I didn’t know what Madeline saw in him. I needed to get out of here.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing and pointing toward my extensive DVD collection—all great movies without the ex I couldn’t stop thinking about. “Feel free to pick out a movie. Just not—”
“Yeah, this one.” The guy clearly wasn’t having any better of a time with me than I was with him. Which, yeah, was my fault. I had been quiet during dinner and was positively argumentative about the movie. But I had told Madeline I wasn’t ready, and she insisted I was. So, really, I’d just blame her. I closed the door to the bathroom, running my hands down my face.
I looked at myself in the mirror, sighing. One movie and then this guy would leave. I could make it through that much.
My phone rang from the other room, and I shook my head, leaving the bathroom to answer it when I heard the ringing cut short and my date’s confident “hello?”
I gawked, hand still on the doorknob. This guy just answered my phone?
“Hello?” The guy repeated. “No, she’s in the bathroom. I- who am I? We’re just watching a movie, man, we’re on a date.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I almost laughed. I had assumed it was Alana on the other line, grilling the guy for details. I hadn’t even told her about this date, though it was safe to assume that Madeline did.
I decided to rescue the guy from my cousin’s insipid grilling and headed back into the living room. I was surprised to see that the guy had set his phone down, though, before I could even get into the room. Alana had never gotten off the phone that quick.
“That was my phone?” I asked as if I hadn’t been eavesdropping. The guy nodded but was staring at two DVD cases. Both looked like action flicks. I let out a breath in relief. Finally.
“Some guy,” he muttered, shoving one of the DVDs back on the shelf. He brandished the winner to me. “What do you think of this one?”
The guy looked hesitant, and I almost laughed. “Perfect,” I said, grabbing it and shoving it in. This, at least, I could do. I could always watch Vin Diesel save the day.
I grabbed my phone off the table, shoving it into my pocket. I’d just deal with Alana’s line of questions tomorrow at work, rather than text her back. If it were important, she’d call back. I was pretty certain it was just to get dirt on me, though.
“Great.” We sat down, the bowl of popcorn cool and resting between us from before the Grayson Sparling debate.
So, the date wasn’t great. But it wasn’t horrible, either. It was just bad enough that I actually was looking forward to telling Madeline and Alana about it.
Even if there was no love match made between us that night, I realized, unfortunately, that Madeline was right. This was definitely a step in the right direction.
Jade
“I saw him.”
Alana was breathless, her hand on her side as she panted, bent at the waist. She had run into the diner a moment ago, throwing her bag on the stool next to where Madeline was sitting and had started talking through gasps for air. I blinked at her from behind the counter, exchanging a look with Madeline.
“Huh?”
“I saw him, you dummy. I saw him.”
Two months had passed since Grayson had left town, and with each day was a new struggle. I had accidentally poured raspberry juice in a bowl of pancake batter last week and almost pulled out my phone to call him because they tasted so nice.
But even though I was still aching most of the time and my thoughts tended to be consumed, things weren’t as bad. The heaviness in my limbs didn’t last as long, and I didn’t have the urge to drown my thoughts with a bottle anymore. I guessed that even the scars that never left you stopped bleeding eventually.
“I saw Grayson,” Alana panted.
Then again, maybe not.
The air rushed from my lungs, and I gripped the counter top. Madeline looked between us quickly, as if we were speaking instead of just watching each other, wide-eyed.
“Where?” I finally asked. My heart hammered dangerously fast as if Grayson himself had walked through the door. “Where?”
“Downtown. At the Ritz. He was—there were a lot of press people there.”
I nodded, tugging at the ends of my hair as my mind swirled. Grayson was back. He was back in town, and he hadn’t called. Hadn’t stopped by.
My pulse danced at the thought of seeing him again.
“Go!” Alana urged, sitting on the stool by Madeline, her grin growing. “Go get up! We can watch the diner.”
I blinked, considering the offer. I steeled myself against the onslaught of desire I felt at the concept. “No,” I refused quietly. “Thanks, though.”
“Jade,” Madeline said sadly.
I shrugged it off. I had made my choice, and it was the right one, even if my gut ached in protest.
Alana opened her mouth, but Madeline dropped her hand to her arm, shaking her head slightly. Alana let out a disbelieving scoff.
“This is stupid!” she said, shaking her head rapidly. She jumped off
the stool again, pacing a short space near the counter. “You’ve missed him! And I’m sure he missed you and if you just went down there—”
“Alana,” Madeline tried, but Alana wasn’t hearing it.
“No! No, Madeline. You’ve seen her, Jade’s been miserable! Grayson just up and left, and he owes Jade an explanation at least!”
“No, he doesn’t,” I could barely speak around the lump in my throat, the tightness in my chest.
“Yes, he does, don’t be a martyr,” Alana waved off my protest, turning back to Madeline. “We don’t even know what happened, but it doesn’t matter because people don’t just leave! They shouldn’t just leave!”
She was almost yelling now, her voice rising with each new sentence she spoke. Her eyes were bugging and wild, and I realized with a start that this had very little to do with Grayson and me.
Her bottom lip trembled, and she wound her arms around her waist, the same that I had done that day. She looked little, then, my cousin. I walked to her slowly, enveloping her in a hug.
“I miss him, too,” I murmured, quietly. Alana whimpered against my hair.
The year anniversary of Kyle’s death was barely a week away. I should have realized how heavy Alana’s heart was weighing.
“I don’t want anyone else to leave without saying goodbye,” she sniffled, looking up at me. “Why can’t you just go say goodbye?”
My bones temporarily turned to jello, and I cleared my throat several times to keep from crying. “It’s not the same, Alana.”
She frowned, stepping out of my embrace. “Only because you can fix this.”
I slumped. I could. I could fix it but—
“It’s my fault.”
Alana and Madeline waited. I swallowed a few times before speaking. And then, as if I had prepared and been waiting for the right moment, I told them everything. The movies that Grayson was passing up, the worries I’d felt, his tender confession that I’d steadfastly ignored. I couldn’t stop once I started, spilling story after story of our short romance to my captive audience.
