by Jaci J
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, looking away from the raw emotion on his face.
“Like what?” he laughs, finding my discomfort funny.
“Like you wished you never met me.” Zac doesn’t correct me and my heart dies a thousand painful deaths.
I’ve seen Zac drunk. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him hurt. But I’ve never seen all three combined in this man before me.
Zac continues to rant, spewing hateful words at me. I let him go until I’ve had enough.
“You’re not the only one who’s hurt,” I shout out bravely. I’m tired of always being blamed for everything that’s ever happened between us. “Not everything is about you.” Things are about to get ugly. I won’t be his punching bag forever. The shit stops tonight.
“No. You’re right, Emerson, it’s not,” he says in a mocking tone. “Everything is always about you!” He’s still slurring, pointing his finger at me.
“Jesus, Zac. What’d you expect me to do?” I shout, throwing my hands in the air, tired of it all. We had this fight ten years ago, but apparently, we’re gonna have it again. “Get married right out of high school, pop out baby after baby, work at the Seven-Eleven while you lived out your dreams. Isn’t that what you wanted from me?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, because that’s exactly what he wanted. And it’s not that I didn’t want to marry him and have kids. I just wasn’t ready then. I needed to explore. I needed to live the life I had always dreamed of.
“You could have stayed, went to college,” he reasons, “with me.”
“That was your goddamn dream Zac, not mine,” I yell, anger bubbling up and spilling over. “It’s not like I woke up one morning with a plan to ruin your life, our life,” I amend, because it wasn’t just his life I changed forever that day I drove away. Leaving rocked my world as much as it did his, but I had to go. “We were young. We wanted different things, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love you for fuck’s sake. It didn’t mean I didn’t care about you. I didn’t stay and I didn’t ask you to come, and that was all for you.”
“You left me.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I could never move on, okay?” he roars, tearing at his hair. “I still can’t. Fuck, I never could let you go. And here I am, still fucked in the head over you. I can’t move on. It’s ruined my damn life. I think about you every damn second of every fucking day and it fucking kills me that I don’t have you.”
My heart breaks for breaking his. I know it hurt, but I never thought he’d hang onto the hurt. He was heartbroken, but I would have thought he’d move on from me after a time.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling utterly defeated. “You love me.” There is no other explanation for it.
“And what about you? Did you ever love me?”
I would have rather had him hit me than ask me that question. How could he even think that? “I’ll always love you.”
“But…”
“There is no but. I have loved you from the moment I met you, and I will love you until the day I die.”
“You have no idea what you did to me,” he says quietly. Gone is the anger, and in its place is frustration.
“Do you think I spent the last ten years living the dream I went looking for? It took me leaving to find out I was considered more mediocre than star quality. Nothing worked out the way I thought it would. My dream wasn’t everything I thought it would be, and I lost you too. I didn’t know how to hold onto you, but I missed you every second of every fucking day. I never moved on. I was always so in love with you. Nothing, and no one, would ever be you, or give me what I had with you. You’re it for me, Zac. You always have been. No one will ever love you like I love you.”
Nothing I have ever said has been truer than those words.
I sober up real goddamn fast.
Bile rises in my throat and I’m not sure if it’s from the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed or her admission.
No one will ever love you like I love you.
I left the wedding feeling like shit. Shit for Nadia and shit for Emerson. I had fucked up and I wanted to make things right, so I had Justin drop me off at Nadia’s. Bad fucking idea. I walked in and found her on all fours with some college douche fucking her from behind.
She looked shocked, but not sorry.
I’m sure I looked shocked as well, but not sorry either.
I left there and somehow ended up here, drunker than I was when I left the wedding.
Her words have sucked the wind out of my sails. This fight just doesn’t feel the same anymore. Every angry word and hurt feeling I’ve held in for all these years seems unimportant suddenly.
Emerson still loves me. She’s always loved me. I should have known that.
“Fuck, Em. I just wanted to love you forever.” I sag, sitting down on the small couch. Sure, I didn’t have it all together ten years ago. I had no solid plan. Hell, there was barely an idea. What I did know and what I did plan was to have Emerson here, with me, always. Married or not married, kids or no kids, I didn’t care. All I wanted was for us to be together.
“I know,” she sighs, scrubbing at her tired eyes.
Sitting down next to me, her head falls onto my shoulder, her welcomed weight leaning into my side. She’s tired. I’m tired. Tired of living like this.
“I really never meant to hurt you. I am so sorry, Zac.”
“Do you regret leavin’?” I ask her. She doesn’t hesitate with her answer.
“No.” I’m kinda glad she doesn’t. At least she got whatever it was she was looking for out of the fucking mess.
And since we’re confessing…
“Nadia’s been fuckin’ around on me.” Saying it out loud feels good. I think I’ve always known, and it’s not like I’ve been a saint since I met her either.
“Wha…really? What was she thinking, cheating on you!”
Emerson sounds completely baffled by the idea, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. I almost laugh. That’s the thing I’ve always loved about this woman. No matter what I do, how I look, where I live or work, she always thinks the most of me. I walk on water in her eyes, still, after all this time, and it feels damn good.
“Eh,” I shrug. Maybe I wasn’t into her enough. Maybe I didn’t give her enough of me, but really? I don’t care. I was mad about it for about fifteen minutes, and it was only because of the way I had to find out.
“Do you really hate me?” she asks quietly, carefully.
“Yeah. Sometimes I do.” I’m not going to lie to her. Some days it’s the only thing I feel. “But I love you more than I hate you.”
My mom always said to really hate someone you would’ve had to have loved them first. That is the absolute truth.
There’s a silence, and then a burst of laughter. Emerson laughs until she’s breathless. Her shoulders shake and tears roll down her cheeks. Hiccupping, she tries to control it, which only makes her laugh harder, and in turn I laugh, because this shit is fucking ridiculous.
“So, where do we go from here?” I ask her, breathless, completely lost. Moving forward seems so foreign when I’ve been stuck in limbo for years.
“Friends?” She shrugs. “More than friends?”
“I can try.” I’m not sure we can every truly be friends. There’s too much between us. But I can give it the old college try, because I’ll be damned if I’m ready to let her go again.
“That’s all I can ask.” We were friends before we were anything more. Maybe we can make it back to something that resembles that kind of relationship.
“I’m sorry.” It’s something I should have said a long time ago. She was right. If I loved her like I said I did, I should have let her go and tried my damnedest to make it work. Emerson needed my support then, and I should have been strong enough to give it to her.
“Did we finally come full circle?” she asks, sounding hopeful.
Taking a deep breath, I feel my chest lighten.
<
br /> “I think we may have.” And it feels so goddamn good.
“I’m hungry,” Emerson announces suddenly, getting off the couch. “All this fightin’ has made me hungry. How ’bout some left over pizza?”
I feel happier than I have in years.
“Yeah. Sounds good, babe.”
This is strange. Row is staring at her hands and Justin is staring at the side of her head, neither making conversation with the other. I shift on my feet. I’m the odd man out in this scenario, making halfhearted attempts at luring one, the other, or both into conversation that’s a little less…awkward. The weather, sports, local news. Nothing works. They both nod and continue to stare at anything but each other.
I wonder if this is how people feel around me and Zac? If so, I owe everyone an apology.
Row showed up first, arms loaded down with lunch, wine, and movies for a girl’s day. Justin showed up fifteen minutes later, arms loaded down with a toolbox and plumbing pipes ’cause the sink needs fixin’.
Things are so weird between the two.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth at Row who’s looking at me with pleading eyes.
“Get rid of him,” she mouths back, or it could have been, “Do you have cinnamon?” I have no idea what the hell is going on, but whatever it is it’s super uncomfortable for all involved, me included.
“Hey, Justin. Me and Row have plans. Wanna come back by tomorrow and do that?” I ask him, nodding over at the closed bathroom door.
“You sure?” he asks, his head whipping around to finally look at me. He’s been so damn engrossed in the side of Row’s head, he completely forgot I was here. “You won’t have a bathroom sink.”
“I’ll be fine. I can brush my teeth in the kitchen.” Or I can just forgo it all together. Anything to cut through the tension.
“Okay.” He gets up from the stool at the small island in the even smaller kitchen of my garage apartment.
“Yeah.” I’ve never been more sure of anything.
Justin walks to the door and opens it, but before he leaves he tosses a fleeting look back at Row who is still staring at her hands, ignoring him.
“Bye,” he mutters, closing the door behind him. Ro exhales loudly.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss.
“Who the hell knows?”
“Rowen.”
“I don’t know. It’s like we share one good moment and then he shows up with some nasty girl and ruins it. Then when I date, he gets all pissed at me for it.”
Pointing at the pink bottle next to her, I wiggle my fingers. “We’re gonna need wine for this.”
~~~~~~
Wine has been consumed. Food has been eaten. Movie has been…kinda watched, and love lives have been discussed.
“Do you think he’s home?” Row asks me from the driver’s seat as we make our way to Zac’s house. I’ve been curious to see it since I’ve been back. We’re drunk-ish, and we’re driving, and it was a really stupid idea. I never claimed to be brilliant, but we’re driving slow, and Row’s being super careful.
“He might be by the time we get there.” I give Row the side-eye. She’s driving so damn slow, both hands gripping the wheel while her eyes are fixated on the road. If she went any slower we’d be parked.
“Not funny. I had three glasses of wine. I don’t wanna hit anything.”
“What are you gonna hit? We’re on a gravel road with open fields on each side of the car.”
“A deer could jump out onto the road,” she says with all seriousness.
I laugh. I can’t help it. “You’re ridiculous.”
After this weekend, the wedding disaster and our heart-to-heart, Zac left town for work for a few days, and I needed some girl time.
I don’t know where Zac and I stand. I know nothing. I’m Jon fucking Snow.
The long gravel road veers off to the left before disappearing between a thicket of lush green trees. It was all fun and games until Row passed the only other driveway on the road.
Where the fuck are we going?
Then it hits me. There’s only one house at the end of Spruce Street.
Never in a million years did I think Zac would live here.
“Row?”
“I know…” she mutters back, a sad tint to her words.
I spent a lot of time here growing up. Summer nights and weekends. Memories run rampant.
The trees clear out and a log cabin comes into view.
Swallowing thickly, I stare out the window, transfixed on the scenery that’s all so familiar.
This was my grandparents’ place.
“I—uh…” I have no idea what’s trying to come out of my mouth. My brain is scrambled fucking eggs at this point.
Zac lives here?
Oh my God.
Row drives around the side of the house and there’s Zac, looking just as confused as I feel.
I watch him run a hand over the top of his head, unsure. He looks around and then looks back at us.
“Shit,” Row swears. “He must’ve come back early.” She looks at me apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have brought you out here if…” she trails off when Zac steps in front of her car, an ax hanging by his side.
“It’s okay. We’re okay, I think,” I mutter, watching him. Zac and me left things on shaky, but okay ground last time we talked.
I haven’t been here in years, but it still feels the same.
The last time I saw this place it was overgrown and begging for some serious repair. That was four years after my grandparents died. Zac has made it shine.
I’m out the door and standing in front of Zac, in some sort of daze, before I even grasp what I’m doing. “You…” Words elude me. “It looks so great.” I finally manage to say when I spin around slowly, taking it all in.
He nods firmly, brows still furled in a confused expression. “It’s…” This is fucking hard.
My grandparents lived here for fifty or so years. My grandpa built my grandma this place for their second wedding anniversary. Built right next to a large freshwater pond for her with his own two hands. All of his love and devotion poured into this piece of land.
I spent so much time here as a child. We all did.
Zac loved this place as much I did.
It hits me out of nowhere. “You bought this place for m—me,” I stutter, tears tripping up my words.
“Emerson,” he groans painfully. Propping the ax up against the side of the house, he takes a cautious step towards me.
“They were gonna sell it right before I left,” I ramble on, tears falling like a river now. “It was for sale.”
A big red for sale sign was in the front yard, their belongings packed up. The house was empty. My parents had planned on selling this place ten years ago, and with everything going on in my life back then, I never gave it a second thought. I remember being sad that it would no longer belong to my family, but I was so sick over leaving Zac, it took a backseat like everything else at the time.
“This was my place.” One of my favorite places.
“Jesus, Emerson. Don’t cry.” Zac looks so uncomfortable, but I just can’t find it in myself to stop. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shifts, awkward with my tears. “Stop cryin’.”
“I can’t.”
He really does love me.
She’s crying and I want to touch her, hold her, but I don’t. Instead I shove my hands in my pockets and watch the tears fall down her cheeks. I open my mouth to say something comforting, but not a damn thing comes out.
I’m so bad at this.
“You bought this place for me, for us, didn’t you?” she sniffles, her wet eyes wide and focused on the house that took me three years to renovate. “It’s beautiful, Zac.” Pride bubbles up in my chest at her words. Fixing this place up was no small job. Blood, sweat, and years went into it, and I spent a good deal of that time thinking about her. New log façade, floors, bathrooms, kitchen, and just about everything else.
It was a l
abor of fucking love.
I just shrug, not knowing what to say.
“I did. It always reminded me of you.” I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Emerson immediately starts crying again—big, ugly tears. “Babe, you have to stop that shit.” I can’t handle the waterworks.
“You love me.” she hiccups, wiping at her eyes.
“Thought we already hashed that shit out the other night?” It’s possible I told Emerson I loved her at least fifteen times a day ten plus years ago, but the years in between without saying it has made it weird for me.
Turning away from me, she walks towards the house.
“You mind?” she asks over her shoulder, already opening the front door.
Nerves start to replace pride. I changed a lot, and she might hate it.
I do mind. I’m not sure it’ll ever be good enough for her. I’m not ready, but I let her go in anyways. I did do this all for her.
Looking at Row, I shrug, hesitant. She’s quietly hanging back, watching the mess between Em and me play out. She just shrugs back when I silently plead for some damn guidance.
“Should I go?” she questions, lingering by her car, looking just as uncomfortable as I feel. I can handle hate and anger, but tears and sappy emotions make me uneasy.
“I can drive her home,” I tell her, lifting a shoulder.
“Okay.” She gets into her car. Backing out, she waves before making her way down the long driveway, leaving me and Emerson alone.
Hesitating outside, I don’t go in right away. I give her a minute. Give her time to take it all in.
~~~~~~
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Pulling out a pack of pork chops, I glance over at Emerson. It makes me pause, seeing her sitting at the kitchen counter, like she’s been here all along. Never expected to get back here with her, but I’m pretty damn happy we’re trying.
We need some work, but we’ll get there.
She nods, smiling. “Yeah. Well, unless you’re gonna make me cook.”
“I’ll cook for you, but I’m not promising it’s gonna be edible.” I got many things from my mom, but cooking was not one of them. I can grill and that’s about it. I’m a hit or miss cook.
