Desperate Chances

by A. Meredith Walters

  And I couldn’t spend my life checking my phone waiting for him to call.

  Take life by the balls, Gracie Cook!

  “Well, you could come by after that. I’m sure by that point you could use some carbs and decent conversation,” Vivian laughed as I passed her on my way to the bathroom.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” I said.

  Vivian bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes concerned. “Mays and Jordan said they’d come by and Garrett gets back into town today.” She hesitated before adding, “I don’t think Mitch will be there, if that’s the problem. Cole said he had stuff to do today. So if you’re worrying about a run in—”

  “That’s not an issue, Viv. Not anymore.” I drew myself upright, holding my robe closed with one hand and gripping my clothes in the other.

  “Okay. Well good. Just please think about coming by. I’d like to show you the place. I need to know you’re okay with all this. I don’t want you to feel as though I’m leaving you high and dry,” Vivian said.

  I squeezed Vivian’s arm as I stepped into the bathroom. “You’re moving in with your boyfriend. That’s how things are supposed to go, Viv. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I promise.” Vivian didn’t look convinced. “Okay, I’ll come by after I leave my parents. I can’t wait to see it.”

  Vivian relaxed. “Great! Thank you, G!” She gave me a hug and I dropped my clothes on the floor in her exuberance. We both laughed.

  “Okay, now let me get ready. I’ve got places to go and people to see,” I teased, closing the door in her face.

  “Well hurry up. I need to do my hair and the light in my room is horrible!” Vivian called out.

  After I was finished getting dressed, I checked my phone again.

  Still nothing.

  My thumb hovered over the keys and I was tempted to send him a text. But what would I say?

  Did you dump your girlfriend yet?

  Or how about what the hell is your problem? How could you kiss me and drive off like that? What’s wrong with you?

  I could always settle on a string of expletives to get my point across.

  I sighed. This was ridiculous. I couldn’t leave things like this.

  I couldn’t live life in the backseat.

  I grabbed my purse. “Vivian, I’m heading out. I’ll see you later tonight,” I yelled.

  “Where are you going? You haven’t even had your coffee yet! That’s suicidal!” Vivian said, poking her head out from her room.

  I pulled on my coat and wrapped a scarf around my neck. “I—uh—I’ve got something to do this morning. I’ll tell you later.”

  Vivian gave me a knowing look. “Okay then, well, tell me later.”

  Then I realized I was without wheels. That put a significant cramp in my Go-Gracie-you-can-do-it mood.

  “Can I borrow your car? Just until I can pick mine up later this afternoon?” I asked her.

  Vivian nodded. “Cole can give me a lift to work, not a problem. We can meet up after you leave work to get your car.” She tossed me her keys and I gave her a grateful smile.

  “Thanks, Viv, you’re the best.”

  I left quickly, before I could talk myself out of the craziness I had planned.

  I drove the entire way to Garrett’s house with knots in my stomach.

  What was I doing?

  Why was I driving out there first thing in the morning?

  I pulled my car up beside Garrett’s van and got out. I didn’t see Mitch’s car.

  Shit. He wasn’t home.

  I stood there, feeling like a fool for a long time.

  What would I have even said if he had been there?

  “Hey you. What are you doing here at nine in the morning?”

  I glanced up to the porch to see Garrett in a tattered pair of jeans and a T-Shirt, a duffel bag at his feet.

  “Uh, well, I’m not really sure,” I told him honestly.

  Garrett unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Well, I just got here. I just got off a two-hour flight and I hate the airport. I need to de-funk, stat. Why don’t you come in and I’ll make some coffee. You’ve got that I-haven’t-mainlined-caffeine look on your face.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

  Garrett dropped his bag just inside the door turned up the thermostat. “Fuck me, it’s freezing in here. Mitch has a serious aversion to turning the heat up.”

  We walked into the kitchen and Garrett went straight to the coffee maker and dumped the remains of an earlier pot into the sink. It looked like Mitch had been home this morning.

  But where had he gone so early?

  “Milk and sugar right?” Garrett asked and I nodded, sitting down at the table.

  “How’s Riley?” I asked after he handed me a mug of steaming coffee. Garrett sat down across from me, stretching out his legs.

  “She’s great. She was called into to cover a story at four this morning. Some fire over at the government offices. So I just got up and headed to the airport. I waited around for a few hours before my flight. She’ll be down this weekend for the show.” Garrett smiled at the mention of his girlfriend.

  “So you won’t have to wait too long to see her again,” I said, drinking my coffee. Garrett could make one hell of a cup of java, that’s for sure.

  “It gets harder and harder to leave her,” he said softly. He looked up at me, his blue eyes tired but happy. “I’m moving up there. To Boston,” he announced and I blinked in shock.

  “To Boston. You’re moving to Boston,” I repeated, not sure that I heard him correctly.

  Garrett downed the rest of his coffee and nodded. “Yeah. I can’t be away from her anymore. I just can’t do it. And neither can she. She’s got a good gig with the paper. I would never ask her to move back here. There’s nothing for her in Bakersville as far as her career goes.”

  “But the band—” I started to say.

  “I don’t think that’s in the equation anymore,” he said, sounding a mixture of sad and relieved.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked aghast. No Generation Rejects? I couldn’t imagine them not playing together. “I know you guys are worried about the label dropping you, but Mitch’s cousin was getting you guys some gigs right? You don’t need a label to still play music,” I argued.

  Garrett got up and refilled his mug. “You know, the band has been the biggest part of my life for so damn long. After my parents died, it’s what kept me from losing my fucking mind. Mitch, Cole, and Jordan are more than my friends, they’re my brothers. We’ve traveled down this road together and it’s been amazing. It really has. But things change. Life heads off into another direction and you have to go with it. Generation Rejects will always be a part of my life. But Riley Walker is my life, G. I want to build my life with her. I want to put down roots with her.”

  He stopped for a minute and then he smiled and it made my breath catch in my throat. At one time I had thought myself in love with Garrett. It was easy to see why when he looked like that. When he was talking about the woman he adored above everything else.

  “I don’t want to spend all my time on the road, thinking about her. I want to wake up in the morning beside her and I want to go to bed at night holding her. That’s all I want. I’m a simple guy like that. Everything else will fall into place.” He sat back down again and I didn’t quite know what to say.

  “What will the guys think?” I had to ask.

  “They’ve got their own stuff going on. Jordan’s going to be a dad—”

  “You know!” I gasped and Garrett chuckled.

  “Riley told me.”

  “You’re right, he won’t want to leave Maysie and the baby now. I guess it’s the end of an era.” I said.

  Garrett tapped his fingers on the table in a slow, steady rhythm. Much like his personality. Slow and steady. Unhurried. “It’s time though. Don’t you think we’re all ready for a change?”

  I thought about that and yeah, we all were ready. More than ready.<
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  “What are you going to do with the house when you move to Boston?” I asked.

  Garrett looked around the tiny, yet homey kitchen. A hundred memories had been made in this room. Thousands for him. It would be strange for this house to stand without him living in it.

  “I’ll keep it of course. This was my parents’ house. I would never sell it. I guess I’ll see if Mitch wants to keep living here. If not, then maybe I’ll rent it out. I’ve got some time before I have to worry about all that.”

  I felt a momentary panic. “Why wouldn’t Mitch want to live here? Is he planning to move as well?” My voice sounded a little shrill in my ears.

  Garrett raised an eyebrow and regarded me levelly. “He hasn’t said, but we’re all in a state of flux right now. So we’ll see where his path takes him.” He got up and carried his coffee cup to the sink and rinsed it out. “So you want to tell my why you’re really here? I know it’s not to shoot the shit.”

  “Maybe I just wanted a visit,” I replied obstinately.

  “It’s okay to admit, you know,” Garrett said, turning back around and leaning against the counter, folding his arms across his lean chest.

  “What’s okay?” I asked. I was being purposefully obtuse. He knew. I knew it.

  “That you came over here to see Mitchie boy.”

  My cheeks flushed and I had to look away from my friend. “I wasn’t really—” I prepared to lie but Garrett interrupted me before I could finish.

  “Yes you are. I saw that wild look on your face when you got here. Something happened while I was in Boston.” I couldn’t deny it.

  Garrett frowned, looking thoughtful. “I had hoped that you guys would work everything out. I think the two of you are making a mistake by being so pigheaded.” He ran his hand over his mouth and chuckled. “Though I know how hard it is to get someone to see what’s right in front of them. Particularly when they’re stubborn as hell.”

  “I don’t think I’m being stubborn. But our lives are in different places. He’s with someone else. I realized things too late. We missed our chance. I thought we could be friends.” I sighed. It was a sad, mournful sound. “But I don’t think that’s really possible. Because with Mitch and me, there’s always something…”

  “More?” Garrett filled in.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Something more. I hurt him badly, Garrett. I’m sure you know what happened.”

  “Mitch told me some of it. I also know he made a knee jerk reaction when he got with Sophie. He shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right to her. To him. Or to you. A rebound is the worst thing you can do when your heart is hurting.”

  “But he seems happy.” As I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. Mitch didn’t seem happy. He seemed…resigned. And that was not the same thing.

  “We both know that’s bullshit.” Garrett picked up his bag. “I’ve got to go put this stuff away. You can hang out or whatever but I don’t know when Mitch will be back.”

  “Okay,” I said quietly, standing up.

  Garrett paused before exiting the kitchen. He turned back to me. “Don’t give up on what you guys have. Because it’s something special, G, and you both deserve that. Don’t lie to yourself by saying he’s better off without you. Because that, my friend, is a load a crap and we both know it.” With a wave, he headed up stairs and I was left alone.

  I pulled out my phone and looked at the time. I needed to get to work.

  I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a quick note on it. It was time to go old school to make my point.

  I took the stairs two at a time and stopped just outside of Mitch’s bedroom door. I hesitated before opening it. It felt strange to go inside when he wasn’t there. Like I was violating his privacy.

  I gripped the note in my hand and walked in anyway.

  Screw privacy. There were important things at stake.

  Like getting us back to where we needed to be.

  The smell of him hit me as soon as I walked inside. It brought with it a thousand memories. A thousand happy days and never ending smiles. It also brought with it a lot of heartache.

  The place was a mess. The bed was unmade and there were clothes on the floor. Mitch Abrams was an unabashed slob.

  I snorted at the sight of his overflowing hamper and three days worth of dishes piled up on the desk in the corner. His room, like his vehicle, could be labeled a toxic dump.

  Though it hadn’t bothered me too much when I used to come over. I was able to overlook his grimy tendencies so easily. That should have been an obvious sign of my feelings for him. Nothing says I love you like not bitching about dirt and clutter.

  I went to leave the note on the dresser when something caught my eye.

  In the middle of discarded Twizzler wrappers and piles of change was a collection of hair ties. Blue, red, pink, purple. They were twisted into a knot and placed on top of a small wooden box.

  Small hair ties. Stretched out hair ties. All mine. Some of them I had left by accident. Others I had purposefully kept in his room so that I had one should I need it.

  And they were still there. A year since the last time I had entered his room.

  I picked up the bundle of hair ties, gripping them in my hand. I rested my hand on the lid of the box debating whether to open it.

  Don’t, Gracie. You’ve already rudely entered his room without being invited, don’t make it worse.

  They say curiosity killed the cat. My curiosity almost broke my heart.

  I opened the box with shaking hands and reached inside. My fingers closed around a stack of photographs, which I promptly lifted out.

  I shouldn’t be looking at these. I need to put them back, leave the note, and get the hell out of his room. It wasn’t right to snoop around like this.

  Whatever. Of course I was going to look. Who wouldn’t?

  So I started going through them. One at a time.

  I didn’t realize that I was crying until tears fell on the glossy prints.

  They were photographs of me. Each and every one of them.

  Some were of Mitch and me together. Others were of me with our friends. Some, I was by myself. They were candid and honest. They captured a Gracie that was natural and uninhibited. I hadn’t even known I was being photographed.

  Some people would have been weirded out by that. I wasn’t. Not at all. These pictures revealed a woman I had almost forgotten about.

  A woman that was happy.

  Wiping away tears, I started to put them back when something caught my eye. It was a picture towards the back that I had almost overlooked. The longer I stared at it, the harder my tears fell.

  In the photo, Mitch and I were standing by a raging bonfire behind Garrett’s house. I didn’t know who had taken it, but whoever it was had captured something honest. Something completely real.

  Mitch had his arm slung around my shoulders. I was looking up at him, my eyes intense and hungry. We were both smiling. Only inches apart. Mitch’s hand was frozen just as he was about to touch my face.

  It was a beautiful picture. The fire and the smoke created an artistic haze over our figures.

  But that wasn’t what left me reeling.

  It was the look on our faces.

  We looked in love.

  No one could see it and think anything else.

  I flipped it over and saw a date in Mitch’s chicken scratch handwriting.

  July 4th, 2013.

  2013.

  The photograph was from two years ago.

  Two years.

  Even then my heart had known that I loved him. My brain may have been in denial, but I knew.

  I clutched the photograph to my chest and felt almost sick about all the lost time. The missed chances.

  I had been such a fool.

  Carefully I put the pictures back, closed the lid, and replaced the hair ties. My hair ties. The ones Mitch kept.

  With trembling fingers I left the note for him propped against the box and wiped the lingering tears from my face
.

  It was time to leave.

  I shut the door on our memories, hoping that we weren’t too late to make new ones.

  Rows of family photographs lined the walls of my parents’ living room. Mom had turned on the gas fireplace and the house was toasty and warm. It had started to snow late in the day and there was a fine dusting already on the ground. I hoped the roads stayed clear enough for me to get home.

  Because hell if I was spending the night.

  Anyone looking at the framed pictures would think we had lived a perfect life. Posed photo ops of Christmases and birthdays. First days of school and gymnastics meets.

  I was obviously the center of my parents’ world. Oh the fun of being an only child. I was the entire focus of their pride. And more often than not, their disappointment.

  My parents were good-looking people. My dad was tall and rugged. Mom was beautiful and refined. And I was the cherry on top of the perfect genetic cake. A lovely combination of my mother’s blonde hair and my dad’s blue eyes.

  They loved me. I knew they did. But their love came with a price. Absolute and total obedience. It was expected and required if I wanted to exist in harmony with them.

  “There you are! I didn’t even hear you come in,” my mother said¸ breezing in from the kitchen wearing a lacy apron straight out of a Leave it to Beaver episode.

  “I just got here,” I replied, air kissing her cheeks so as to not smudge her make-up.

  “You father just called and there’s a pile up on 64, so he’ll be another thirty minutes.” She pulled back the curtains and looked outside at the falling snow. “It looks treacherous out there. You should plan to spend the night in your new room.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Because in my mom’s mind there was no room for argument.

  “I can’t, Mom. I’m supposed to go to Vivian and Cole’s new apartment after dinner.”

  Mom waved away my comment. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Then she frowned as she registered what I said. “Vivian has a new apartment? When did this happen?”