No Tomorrow

by Carian Cole

  You got it too late, you were already gone,

  And there was nothing else I could do.

  I hug him tight, my lyrical, dark, beautiful love.

  And then I let go.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mondays can suck it.

  It’s not even Monday, it’s Wednesday. But I didn’t come into work for two days, so now my Wednesday is masquerading as a Monday.

  I’m wading through no fewer than a hundred emails when my desk phone beeps, signaling a call from the front desk receptionist.

  I press the speaker button. “Hi, Marybeth.”

  “Hi Piper, you have a visitor.”

  My eyes quickly glance over my calendar, but I don’t see any appointments noted. “Is it a salesman? If it is, I’m too busy to meet with someone today.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, who is it?” I ask with frustration. Did she forget her job is to find out the names of callers and visitors?

  “Um, I’m not sure but he looks just like the guy from the band No Tomorrow. He’s in the lobby. Oh my Goddddd.”

  My heart immediately starts to gallop. Blue is here.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  A million thoughts race through my mind as I walk down the corridor toward the lobby. It’s been two weeks since Blue and I parted at the hotel, and my wounds are still raw. I finally broke down and took two days off as mental health days, to attempt to catch up on weeks of no sleep and to spend extra time with Lyric. Today I feel slightly better. Or at least I did until Blue showed up unexpectedly.

  But as I round the corner to the lobby, it’s not Blue waiting to see me at all.

  It’s Reece.

  “This is a surprise,” I say.

  When I met him the night of the concert he looked the part of a grunge guitarist with messy greasy hair, a few days of facial hair, torn-up jeans, and an old band T-shirt. But today, he looks like he just stepped off a Hollywood movie set. His long dark hair is neatly tied back and a pair of aviators sit on the top of his head. A charcoal black Henley shirt stretches over the biggest biceps I’ve ever seen. He looks exotic and confident and rich. Most of all, he looks healthy and well-rested. A stark contrast to how exhausted Blue looked.

  “Yeah, sorry to show up unannounced. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  “Of course. There’s a courtyard outside.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Is Blue okay?” I can’t fathom why his friend would be here, unless something terrible has happened, and I’m already queasy with worry.

  “Yeah, he’s... he’s being Blue.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask as we reach one of the picnic tables.

  He leans against the table and grins down at me. “He’s pretty fucked up about everything.”

  “Well, so am I.”

  “Totally understandable.”

  “Has he gone into rehab?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” I repeat. “He was doing heroin in the bathroom. Did he tell you that?”

  “It’s not new, Piper. He’s had issues since high school.”

  “I know. Which is why he should really be seeking professional help.”

  “He will. He’s not ready yet. And I agree with you, he needs to get clean, but he has to want to. Otherwise, he’ll be doing this again in a few months. Just like he always does.”

  That doesn’t sound promising at all.

  “I don’t even know what to say. Do you do that stuff, too?”

  “Me? Fuck no. I’m straight as an arrow.”

  I shake my head and stare off down the street, toward the park that I can’t even bear to go to anymore because it’s a graveyard of memories.

  “So why are you here?”

  “He told me about the baby. And I wanted to talk to you about it... make sure you and the baby are okay.”

  “Did he send you here?”

  His head moves back and forth. “No. I came on my own. I found your information in his wallet.”

  “You went through his wallet? That’s pretty invasive, don’t you think?”

  “You think I care?”

  “Apparently not. And she’s not a baby anymore, she’s almost five years old. Her name is Lyric.”

  “I heard. He’s friggin’ in love with her name.”

  “That’s great,” I say sarcastically. “Sadly, she doesn’t have his last name, because I had no idea what the hell it was. And trust me, I know that’s my fault because I’m obviously a terrible decision maker when it comes to men.”

  “Nah. Blue’s just an odd dude. Always has been. And you can change her birth certificate, now that you know. It’s no big deal.”

  The thought of changing my sweet little girl’s last name to that of the lead singer of a grunge rock band with a drug addiction scares the shit out of me.

  “Maybe someday,” I reply. “When she’s old enough to understand, I’ll let her decide what she wants to do.”

  He nods. “Fair enough.”

  This is awkward and uncomfortable and I’m sure my inbox is piling up as we speak, so I make a show of checking my watch. “I really should get back to work...”

  “Are you a single mother, then?”

  My eyes narrow. “I hope you’re not planning on asking me out, because I’m definitely not going there.”

  He lets out a deep laugh. “I’d love to, sweetheart, but you’re off limits.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “What I was trying to ask is if you’re raising her alone? Do you need help? Daycare? Money? Any medical problems?”

  I don’t know if I should feel flattered or offended by everything that just spilled out of his mouth.

  “As you can see, I’m employed and I do have health insurance. I’m single but I have friends and family to help out. Lyric is very well loved and cared for. You can tell Blue we don’t need anything from him. You can tell him his dog is still fine, too.”

  “You can drop the defensive act. I’m here as a friend, not your enemy.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just having a rough couple weeks. It’s....” My voice trails off and I let out a bewildered sigh.

  His expression softens. “It sucks to be in a toxic relationship. Been there.”

  My lower lip trembles defiantly. “I’m not in a toxic relationship with him or anyone. We’re not in an anything.”

  He touches my chin and tilts my head up, forcing me to look at him. “Trust me, Piper. You’re in a toxic relationship. And he’s the father of your kid. You’re always going to be in a something with him. Whether you like it or not.”

  Shit.

  “I have a kid with my ex. It’s hard, but we make it work for our kid. I make sure she has everything she needs.” He pushes his body off the table and levels his brown eyes on me. “Blue ain’t me, though. He can’t deal, ya know?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I do know.”

  “He cares about you, though. That’s a first for him. And since he’s too fucked up to deal with it right now, I’m just trying to be a good friend. To make sure his kid is all right.”

  “She is. She’s happy, she’s super smart, she’s a lot like him.”

  He sticks his hand in his back pocket and hands me a card. “Let’s hope she’s not too much like him. My number’s on the card, and I wrote his on the back, in case you don’t have it.”

  Reluctantly, I take the card from him and shake my head. “No. He didn’t give it to me.”

  “You’re better off calling me. He never answers his.”

  “I’m sure we won’t be needing anything, but I appreciate it. You’re a good friend.”

  He winks at me. “Someone’s gotta be.”

  After he leaves I ignore the stare from the receptionist and return to the privacy of my office. I have an overwhelming gut feeling that this definitely won’t be the last time I see Reece Blackstone.

  A month later an envelope is delivered to my office, with a thousand dollars of cash inside, and a note from Blu
e:

  Ladybug,

  I’m sorry I fucked up. Again. You see my pattern? This is me.

  I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish we had more time together before it all went to shit. I wanted to start over. I love how you love me and I love how you hate me. Don’t feel bad. I need your hate and I need your pain just as much as I need your love. It fuels my fight like nothing else. I wish it didn’t hurt you. I hope I’m worth it but I’m probably not. I’m sending you money for Lyric. I love that name. I know you named her for me. I’ll send you more when I can. I waste a lot of money on shit I shouldn’t do. But now maybe I won’t do that anymore. Someday I’ll be better. I hope someday we can try again. I miss you. I fucking ache for you, really.

  I love you.

  Blue

  I close my door so my co-workers can’t see me crying at my desk, and then I re-read the note multiple times. I do this every time Blue leaves me a note—I read it over and over and get more upset and fall more in love and by the end of the day, I’ve memorized his words and I’m even more confused and pulled deeper into this abyss with him.

  As much as I hate to admit it, maybe Reece was right, and this is a toxic relationship. Has knowing Blue ever not given me both the best and the worst parts of my life? No. My life pre-Blue seems like another life altogether. What did I think about before him? What did I love before him? What did I look forward to before him? What made me cry before him?

  My mind blanks. I can’t see the answer to these questions.

  I tuck the envelope of cash and the note into my bag, wondering what he was thinking, sending this amount of cash through the regular mail. It’s unheard of and I’m surprised it didn’t get stolen. The missing return address on the envelope doesn’t go unnoticed, nor the absence of his phone number. Does he not have an address or a phone again? Or does he not want me to be able to contact him?

  For the rest of the day, that little tidbit continues to irk me. How I have never been able to contact him. How he was able to disappear, nameless and address-less—for years! If I hadn’t heard his song on the radio that day, who knows how long it would have been before I ever saw him again. Years? Maybe never.

  Lyric is a chatterbox all through dinner, describing a new girl in her pre-k in great detail. Apparently the little girl is missing a finger after an unfortunate accident. Usually a very quiet child, certain things possess Lyric’s attention and it will sometimes take days or weeks for her to move on from them. I have a feeling this missing finger is going to be an obsession for a long time and I pray she’s not making the poor girl uncomfortable.

  “She’s my best friend now,” she announces at bed time.

  I tuck her in and plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “That’s very sweet. She’s lucky to have you as a friend because you’re fun, and smart, and caring.”

  “I’d give her one of my fingers if I could, Mommy. I don’t need them all, do I?”

  Stifling a laugh, I raise her little hand to my lips and kiss her fingers. “I think you do. In case you want to play piano someday.”

  “But what if she wants to play piano someday?”

  “Well... I’m sure she still can. It will just be a little bit harder for her.”

  “Then I really don’t need all of mine,” she protests.

  “Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about your friend’s fingers. I’m sure she’s just fine. Anyway, I think Acorn would like you to have all your fingers to pet him with.”

  At the mention of his name, Acorn lifts his head from his favorite nighttime napping spot at the foot of her bed. “See?” I say. “He heard us talking and he agrees.”

  She giggles. “You’re silly. He didn’t say that. He said I can pet him with any or no fingers or I can pet him with just my eyes and he’ll feel it inside.”

  Acorn wags his tail, and I’m sure it’s true, he wouldn’t care as long as he was getting attention. I’m touched that Lyric seems to understand that—that there’s different ways of loving someone, and different ways of accepting the kind of love they can give.

  After Lyric has fallen asleep, I get ready for bed, but I don’t go to sleep. Instead, I take Reece’s card out of my wallet and dial the number written on the back before I have a chance to change my mind.

  It rings four times, and I’m just about to give up and end the call when he answers.

  “Yeah?”

  My heart jumps at hearing his deep, scratchy voice.

  “Blue...” I swallow hard. “It’s me.”

  There’s a long pause, then the sound of a lighter clicking, then a deep inhale and exhale of breath. I can almost see the smoke drifting from the tip of his cigarette.

  “Are you there?” I say.

  The click of metal against teeth. “Yeah... just surprised.”

  “Reece gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.”

  I can hear his lips wrapping around the cigarette. Inhale, exhale.

  “Sure.”

  I can’t tell if he’s glad or pissed that I called, so I babble. “I got the money you sent; it came today. You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, babe.” The hoarseness of his voice calling me babe sends a tingle of heat through my thighs.

  “I just wanted you to know I appreciate it.”

  “It’s weird talking to you on the phone. You sound so little.”

  I let out a laugh and clutch the phone tighter. Vendors and clients tell me at least twice a week that I sound about fourteen years old over the phone, which is I why I try to use email as often as possible.

  “Does that bother you?” I ask.

  “No. It makes me wish you were here.”

  My eyes close as his words sink down into my heart.

  Clearing my throat, I pull a pillow onto my lap and lean my elbows on it. “Where are you?”

  “Seattle. For a week, then we head back out.”

  “More concerts?”

  He sighs. “Yeah.”

  “You sound tired.”

  “So do you.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”

  “Because of me?”

  I chew my lip. “Because of what happened.”

  “Do you remember how we used to listen to the rain?”

  “Of course I do,” I reply softly. We used to spend hours making love in that tiny shed, then cuddling under the blanket, listening to the rain falling on the tin roof.

  “Those were my favorite days,” he says. “I loved the quiet of it. Just me and you. I think about it a lot.”

  I remember. I loved it, too. He seemed happy then, and much less restless, but I don’t trust myself to say anything, because he’s the one who left and put an end to our time together.

  “How are you doing... with everything? Are you getting help?”

  He lets out a short laugh. “I’ve been smoking a joint laced with opium and drinking J.D. since you called. So, no.”

  My stomach sinks like a lead ball. “Blue... why are you doing this to yourself?”

  “I don’t know. This is what I do.”

  “But you stopped. You weren’t doing all this when we were together. You told me you never wanted to go down this road again.”

  “I didn’t.” His tone deepens with frustration and anger. “Sometimes this road is easier. I know you don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Help me understand, then. I’m trying.”

  The clink of a bottle against glass sounds in the background, then the swirl of liquid over his lips and the gulp of his throat.

  “It’s like living with a monster in your head, Piper. And it just fuckin’ owns you, consumes you, bleeds you, tortures you. It doesn’t let you sleep. It doesn’t let you be happy. It doesn’t let you trust. So you do what it says just to shut it the fuck up, to try to get just a tiny amount of peace, and then it starts all over again.”

  Emotional grief for him spreads through me, twisting my stomach into knots and sending tears to
my eyes. I wish I could go to him, somehow take this away for him. I wish I could overtake the monster inside him, and hide him away so it could never find him again.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I wish I could do something to help you.”

  Something slams on the other end of the phone. “You can’t. And the more you try, the worse it’ll fucking be. I warned you, Piper. I told you we’d destroy each other. You’ll kill yourself trying to save me and I’ll kill myself trying to make it right and in the end the monster will kill us both. Don’t you see? We can’t win this.”

  “Evan, don’t get mad. You can win. You were winning. I just think you need to find the right help—”

  “Evan again. Always dragging him back in.” More banging sounds come over the line, and his words are starting to slur.

  “It is your name. And I like it.”

  “You like it because it’s not me.”

  “That’s not true. It is you. I think it reminds you of who you were before you got like this.”

  He scoffs. “Don’t try to play shrink, Ladybug. That’s really not a place you want to put yourself.”

  His rollercoaster mood and tone is giving me whiplash, so I decide to quit while I’m ahead rather than agitate him any further. The last thing I want is to make him get higher or drunker tonight.

  “Blue,” I begin softly. “I don’t want to fight with you. I called you to thank you. That’s all.”

  And because I miss you. And I wanted to hear your voice. And for once, I wanted to be in control.

  “I don’t want to fight either. I’m so fucking tired of fighting everything. It’s beating me down.”

  “I know, and I don’t want you to feel that way. Please try to get help. I’m so worried about you.”

  “Come see me, then.”

  “What?”

  “Come out here and stay with me until I leave. We can talk.”

  “We’re talking right now,” I point out, thrown by his suggestion in more ways than one.

  “We are. But I can’t stop thinking about how delicious you taste.”

  “Blue....”

  “What? I want more of you. When I’m lost in you, everything else goes away.”