I don’t want to say good-bye because the thought of that sucks. The only thing I know that I can say is that I love you. You are a wonderful friend, you always have been. I’m so happy that you moved here and that we were given the opportunity to meet. Thank your mom for me (and give her a hug). I will see you again someday (hopefully not soon), and we will pick right back up where we left off, at a coffee shop in heaven.
Until then...Natalie
145
Oh! My! God! The letter floats to the floor before I even realize that I’ve let it go. I reach for it but the tears won’t stop coming, and I can’t seem to focus enough to find it on the floor. I hate her right now. She couldn’t have made me laugh or cry more, and she’s not even here to yell at. Crap! Crap! Crap! How does she even know what to say to me right now? How did she pick the very right words? How is she still so inside my head when I can only feel her presence in my heart?
I hear the door creak and when I look up, I’m staring into the most gorgeous, emerald green eyes I have even seen. Of all the people to walk in on me when I’m such a mess, to walk in on me at the worst moment imaginable, it would have to be him. That’s when I realized that he’s not alone. Brad’s right behind him. Crap!
“Can we come in?”
It’s a rhetorical question, of course, because Ethan’s halfway in the bathroom already as he’s asking. Brad’s standing just outside the door, and I am starting to feel a little trapped. I don’t really have much of a choice in the matter.
I nod twice, and Brad moves in and closes the door behind him. I stand and turn my back to both of them. Looking in the mirror, I try my best to fix my makeup and wash away the tear stains on my cheeks. I can feel them staring at me, and I am doing my best to avoid making eye contact in the mirror. The bathroom isn’t exactly small, but I am starting to feel claustrophobic.
Ethan disappears from view, and I hear the crinkle of paper close behind me. I turn quickly and snatch the letter out of his hand. I do my best to fold it back up, and I shove it in the envelope on the counter and then back into my purse. The last thing I need is for either one of them to read what she wrote to me. At least, not right now.
“Was that the letter Natalie wrote you?” I’m staring right into Ethan’s eyes as Brad speaks. I want to be polite and look at him as I respond, but I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s like I’m in a trance or something. I nod to let him know that it was, and finally close my eyes to break the spell.
“Yeah. Did you get one too? Either of you?”
“We both did. Brad’s had specific instruction to call me and let me know she had passed. Mine had specific instruction to read her letter at the funeral. There was some other stuff in the letter, I’m sure in Brad’s too. What did she want you to do?”
“She wants me to take care of Morgan. She wants me to make sure he moves on with his life and doesn’t let her loss consume him. She wants me to move on with my life...” I have to pause. How am I going to say this to the both of them right now. It’s not the right time, but it may be the only time I have them in the same room together. Why are they together? Aren’t they supposed to hate each other? “Wait. Why are you two here, together?”
“Everyone’s here. The luncheon started a few minutes ago, and everyone’s starting to arrive. We were looking for you.” Brad’s answer seemed so simple. A couple of friends looking for another friend at a “party.” Problem with that scenario is that they are not supposed to be friends.
“Together? You were looking for me together? Why? You hate each other.”
“Hate is a strong word, Becca. We’ve found a way to move past all that and to coexist.” Really, Ethan? Coexist? You don’t even live on the same continent. That makes it pretty easy to coexist.
This is too weird. I need to get out of this bathroom. I need to get away from the both of them and clear my mind. Everything Natalie wrote is too fresh. The wounds that I’ve worked so hard to close, to stitch up and move on from, are opening again. I can literally feel my heart cracking in my chest and there’s nothing I can do to avoid what’s about to happen. I need air, fresh air. I need to be alone, to get away.
“Okay. So you coexist now. Great. I’m happy for you, both of you. I however cannot coexist with both of you at the same time. I just can’t. So, I need to go. I have some setup to do still. I have to help the caterers and stuff.”
I try to push past Ethan but he doesn’t budge. I’m trapped. I try again but he’s solid as a rock. His muscles are firm. I can feel that he’s been working out. I can feel the heat rising from his body, and I know better than to make eye contact with him. I try once more to move past him but it’s useless. He’s not budging, and I don’t have the strength or the willpower to fight him.
“Brad. Can you give us a few minutes? We’ll meet you downstairs.”
I can feel his stare, but I still avoid making eye contact. He’s taking charge of the situation. I can feel his dominance surround me. It’s a new feeling, but somehow still familiar. It reminds me of the first time we met. It reminds me of how drawn to him I once was, or still am. It reminds me of how much trouble we could get into if Brad were to actually leave us alone in the bathroom right now.
Click. Without saying a word, Brad’s gone. The sound of the lock sliding into place, the scraping of the metal, to ensure our privacy is the only sound in the bathroom right now. Now, I not only feel trapped, I am trapped. I can feel my heart starting to race, my breathing is picking up speed. It’s so hot in here. I feel faint. I retreat to the toilet and take a seat.
Ethan loves you. You know this, I know this and he knows this. It’s not much of a secret to the rest of our friends either. You two need to talk.
I can almost hear Natalie speaking to me. The sound of her voice fills my ears. Her laughter. The serious tone that she used to take with me when it came to Ethan. The way she used to attempt to make a joke at the worst moments just to make me smile. I can hear her voice so clearly.
I close my eyes in an attempt to shut her out but there she is, standing in front of me. Her smile is so bright. I can feel the tears running down my face, but all I can focus on is the sight of my best friend standing in front of me. She’s waving her finger at me, and the look on her face tells me that she’s not pleased with me.
He loves you, Becca. Listen to what he has to say. You need each other right now. You need to move past so much that you’ll never be able to do that unless you talk. So talk to him, Becca. Tell him how you feel. Tell him how much you love him, how much you miss him and how much you still want to be with him. He needs to hear it as much as you do. Just talk to him. You can do it, Becca. Just breathe. Breathe and talk. For me...
She’s gone. Just like that, she’s gone. One second she’s in front of me, pushing me to do what needs to be done, scolding me for being so scared. The next second she’s faded away, and I’m staring up at the ceiling. Then Ethan’s face comes into view.
Crap!
“Is it just me or do you faint on everyone?”
I fainted. I fainted from fear. I fainted in front of Ethan, again. Good gravy, what is wrong with me? Just breathe. Breathe and talk.
Damn her! Even after she’s gone and left me, she’s still telling me what to do. She’s right, but that’s beside the point.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I got really hot and then...well, let’s not rehash that. Why? Why are we in here, Ethan?”
“I think we both know that we need to talk. I’m sure Brad’s right outside. If you feel more comfortable, I can always ask him to come back in.”
“No. I’m fine. I just don’t understand why this can’t wait. Why today? I have enough to deal with today. I’m not sure if I can handle anything else.”
“Do you think you can at least listen to what I have to say?”
“I suppose I can try.” I don’t really think I can handle it. Can I tell him that?
“I’m gonna lay it all out there, Becca. It’s gonna be a lot to hear a
nd I know that it’s gonna be hard, but I really need you to just listen. I want you to hear every word that I say. I want you to absorb it all. When I’m done, well, we can go from there. Can you do that for me?”
No. That’s what I wanted to say, but I once again have lost my ability to speak. His voice has hit deep, causing my body to react. I try to ignore it, but his presence has become so overwhelming. I nod once for him to continue, but before he does, he helps me back up onto the toilet. He turns his back to me as if what he has to say is too hard to do if he’s looking at me. This is going to suck big time!
“Okay, I don’t really know where to begin. I guess I should start with I’m sorry. I overreacted to what happened. I was frustrated and scared and thought I was losing you, so I decided that I would be the one to leave. I was too proud to let you leave me I guess. It was a mistake. My biggest mistake to date, but I know that there is no taking it back.”
He pauses like he’s allowing it to sink in a minute before continuing. I hear something, and I think it’s him whispering something but I realize that it’s him crying, or attempting not to. Without thinking, I move to his side and intertwine our fingers.
He turns. Our bodies are inches apart, and I look up to avoid staring directly at his chest. Big mistake! I make eye contact and that’s all it took. I felt my back hit the wall, and I probably should have cried out in pain, but I was not thinking clearly. I was not thinking at all. My body had taken over for my brain and was now in charge.
His lips hit mine at the same moment he lifted me by the thighs so that I could wrap my legs around his waist. It was all happening so fast that before I knew it, I was missing my underwear, and his pants were on the floor. I cried out the moment our bodies connected from the pure sense of pleasure.
It had been so long. Ethan is the only man I have ever been with. I figured that at some point in time that Brad would want to move our relationship forward, and that I would decide at that point if I was ready for the physical part. He never tried to move our relationship in that direction, and I didn’t push him to. Why hadn’t I pushed?
“Oh, Becca. I’ve missed you so much.”
I want to respond, to tell him how much I’ve missed him as well but I can’t seem to find my voice. I think the little noises that I was making were saying enough at that point anyway.
When it was over, and our bodies separated, I felt empty. For those few moment, I was not thinking about losing Natalie or about how I lost Ethan. For those few moments, I didn’t have to think at all. All I had to do was feel. Now that I was focused on feeling, all I felt was empty and lost.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That’s not exactly the direction I planned our conversation would go.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t consent.”
“Did I hurt you?” After he said it, he realized how it sounded. Did you hurt me now or did you hurt me before? Am I still hurting? “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. I knew what was happening and I allowed it to continue. I’m just as much at fault as you are for what just happened. Just, stop apologizing. It makes me feel like it was a mistake.” I’m lashing out at him to cover the way I’m really feeling and I know it.
“Okay. I’m...Anyway. Can we finish talking now?”
“I think I’ve had about as much as I can handle for one day. I need to get downstairs. Actually, I just need to be alone right now.”
“Okay. Can I call you then? Tomorrow?”
“No. When I’m ready to talk, I’ll call you.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I reached past him and unlocked the door. He knew that I was done for right now. He moved to the side so that I could pass. I closed the door behind me and made my way down the stairs as gracefully as I could. My legs were sore. My back was sore. My whole body was sore.
Crap!
My underwear! I never put them back on.
Chapter 16
I waited three days before I picked up my phone and attempted to dial Ethan’s number. I hung up twice before pressing send. On my third attempt, I hit Send and then hung up before it started ringing. I took that as my sign that I still wasn’t ready to talk to him.
Our talk was inevitable. It had to take place and it had to take place soon. Ethan had to head back to England, eventually. I never asked him when he was leaving. In order to ask him, I would actually have to call him. I would actually have to speak with him. I would have to make sure that I found my voice in his presence. It keeps disappearing whenever he is around.
Today was the day that I was going to get my life back on track. A fresh start. A new beginning. I was going back to school today, back to work, and leaving my house for the first time since Natalie’s funeral. I was getting my life back on track, or so I thought.
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed out to my car. I went to toss it in the backseat when something caught my eye. Crap! I never took my package from Ethan out of my car.
It’s not heavy, but I walk slowly and carry it with both hands just to make sure that I don’t drop it. I make it up to my room and stand in the doorway wondering what to do with it. It’s still wrapped. I have no intentions of hanging it on the wall as a constant reminder of the day my life fell apart.
I settle for the closet, keeping it wrapped for now. One day, I will unwrap it and put everything behind me. Today is not going to be that day.
I open my closet and slide it against the right wall. I can feel that it doesn’t want to go, but I continue to shove it until I am finally tired of pushing. I get down on my knees and start moving stuff out of the way. Shoes, clothes, more shoes. My favorite pair of sandals. I’ve been looking for those for a while now.
My tennis bag, the one Ethan got me. How ironic. Of all the things that could potentially be blocking my way and it had to be that bag, from that person. This is a sign. It has to be. The package from Ethan. The tennis bag from Ethan. All of it is pointing me toward him. I need to call him, to talk to him even though I’m scared.
I knew if I opened the bag that I would find two racquets, probably a dozen balls, and some ankle wrap. It was all I used to keep in there on a permanent basis. I want to open it, to pull everything out, and throw it against the wall. More than anything, I want to put the bag high on my shoulder and take it with me. I want to hit some balls against the practice wall and forget everything that’s happened for just a few minutes. I want to zone out like I used to when I would practice. I need it.
I pull the bag out of the closet completely and slide the package in. I toss everything back in, minus my sandals and the tennis bag, and close the door. I quickly swap out my shoes for the sandals and toss the discarded ones in my tennis bag for later. There was no way I would be able to play in these shoes, no matter how cute they are.
I’m out the door, tennis bag in hand, and on my way to class. I’m officially five minutes late. I need to get lucky, find a close spot and run to class if I was going to make it on time. Who was I kidding? There was no way I was running in these shoes, and there was no way I was getting lucky enough to find a close parking spot at this time of day. I was going to be late, no matter what.
I hit every light, found a close parking spot, and speed walked to class. I was still late. My saving grace today was our professor. Apparently, the copy machine had jammed with our test in it, and he was waiting for it to be fixed. My lucky day!
I had almost two hours between the end of class and the start of my shift at the coffee shop. This is when I normally went to see Natalie. There was no point in driving home to turn around and drive right back. The hospital was close and seeing Natalie became a part of my routine. Today, I needed to start a new routine.
I walked to my car and changed my shoes. I grabbed my bag and headed over to the tennis courts. I knew that there was a chance that I would run into a former teammate or any number of people. I was willing to take that chance today. I needed to do this, for myself.
One year, four months, and three days. That’s the amount of time it’s been since I stepped on this court with a racquet in my hands. That’s the amount of time it’s been since I picked up a racquet. That’s the amount of time it’s been since I hit a ball. One year, four months, and three days.
I stood outside the gates for a while before I finally found the strength to step inside. The courts were empty. I didn’t even see any students passing by. I felt a pair of eyes on me, the presence of another person. I scanned the area, but I didn’t see anyone.
I dropped my bag and sat down next to it. If I learned anything from my accident, it was to stretch before playing. I may not have been competing today, or any day soon, but I knew that I still needed to stretch my muscles before I even thought about picking up a racquet.
It felt good to stretch. It had been way too long since I had taken the time to use some of the muscles I was about to use. I was scared. I knew that things would not work like they used to. I knew that I would never be as good as I used to be. The doctors said that I would never be able to play again. At least not competitively.
I never tried. I gave up without trying. I knew that I would have to work hard to come back from my injury, but I let the doctors decide my fate. They would not sign off on my release to play without me proving to them that I was able to play without being in pain, without damaging my shoulder further.
The pain. I was about to cause myself pain for the first time in a long time. I pulled my arm across my chest and stretched the muscles in my shoulder. They were extremely tight. I had managed to overcome most of the challenges I had had in the beginning. Was this worth it? Did I really need to play?
I needed something. I needed something back in my life. So much had been taken from me in the past year. So many people, and the only thing I truly loved beyond control, tennis. This was the one thing that I knew I could get back. I needed this.
Unglued (Holding On) Page 14
