by Hadley Quinn
“Nothing?” I finally found my voice. “I guess the things that are important to me aren’t important to you? Building a house for us so we can start a family? Some stability? That is not nothing to me, Aubrey. Those are all things for you.”
“Well maybe you don’t know what I want, then,” she mumbled. “You never really have. You just assumed I was content going along with whatever you happened to come across.”
I wasn’t even sure of what I was hearing. Not once had she ever said anything against building a house out of the city, having kids, living a comfortable, stress-free life. But then again, I guess she’d never been the one to talk eagerly about any of those things, either. I was always the one to bring it up. Maybe I just assumed she agreed with me.
What a stupid dumbass I was!
“Aubrey, listen to me,” I said softly as I stepped toward her.
I reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away. My heart sank into my fucking stomach. She didn’t even want me to touch her. She could barely even look at me right now.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled to keep myself composed. “What do you mean you met someone,” I hardly managed to get out.
She swallowed, glanced at me briefly, and then looked away again as another set of tears trickled out. “I’ve been seeing someone else for about four months now. His name is—”
“I don’t want to know his fucking name!” I growled out loud. Seriously, I might track that son-of-a-bitch down and beat the shit out of him!
“Fine,” she narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m just trying to be upfront with you.”
“Upfront? You’ve been seeing someone else for four months behind my back and—”
“He asked me to marry him and I said yes! There, Matt. Now you can call me all kinds of names, whatever you want, and I will listen. I deserve it, I know I do, so just tell me what a horrible person I am!”
Yeah, I’ll admit that I was completely blown away right now. I honestly didn’t know if I was mad, disgusted, devastated or just plain confused. Probably the last one because then it could contain any emotion, right?
God, what in the hell is happening right now…?
“Aubrey, I…” I really didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that she was planning to marry some guy and I just didn’t think this was actually happening.
My eyes shot down to her left hand. There was nothing there. The engagement ring I gave her two months ago was not on her fucking finger. Two months ago. Which means I proposed to her, she said yes, all while she was right in the middle of something with another guy?
“I’m leaving next week,” she said softly. “I’ll get my things out as soon as I can and then I’m moving in with my sister in Florida.”
“No, you can’t go,” I found myself saying. “Aubrey, please, let’s talk about this. Okay? Look…”
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, just holding my hand there for a second. I felt completely helpless right now, torn over what I should do. I’d fucked up plenty of times—nothing to this extent, but that wasn’t the point—and Aubrey was always quick to forgive me. I could get past this, right? We could work through it, I was sure of it.
“Aubrey,” my voice cracked. “Whatever has happened, I forgive you, okay? I love you. It’s always been you. People go through rocky shit all the time and we can get through this, I promise.”
She was slowly shaking her head as she stared at the floor. “I don’t want to get through it, Matt,” she said softly. “I’m done.”
Her voice broke on that last word, and it caused a sob to rupture in my chest. “Babe, please…” I realized how desperate I sounded—I mean I was crying, for fuck’s sake—but I didn’t even care. This was my life that was crumbling right before my very eyes and I had a front row seat while she pressed the detonator.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she whispered, finally looking at me. “I’m so sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m so very sorry for betraying your trust and…it was never something I planned…”
She started to cry again but I didn’t know what to do. Here I was, the fool that had been deceived however many times, and all I wanted to do was move past it and pretend it never happened. I just couldn’t believe she was willing to walk away from what we had to be with another guy, and besides that, I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been happy with me.
“I think I need to lie down for a bit,” she cried softly, shaking her head. “I can’t go into work like this.” She set her bag on the counter and wiped away a couple more tears.
She turned to head for the bedroom, but I stopped her when I called her name. She slowly faced me again but wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
“You’ll always be the one, Aubrey. Always.”
She swallowed and shook her head again as she finally met my gaze. “No, Matt. I’m not the one and I never have been.”
One year later…
1
“Good mor-ning,” a familiar voice sang as I entered the studio on a Saturday night.
Zoie was sitting behind the soundboard; one leg tucked under her, her arm wrapped around the other leg with her knee propped up. It was a typical position for her.
I acknowledged the “morning” comment with a tiny smile. She was a damn night owl and had her days and nights completely switched around. Right now really was her “morning” hour. Besides, musicians were known to work some really late hours, like we’d be doing tonight.
“Hey, Z, how’s it going?” I replied. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Going fine, and everyone else is stuffing their faces with deep dish pizza and drinking beer.”
Sounded about right. Zoie was the bassist for a band of guys that were mainly into the party scene. I kind of felt bad for her because she truly was a talented musician. I wish she could find a band that appreciated what she had to offer.
“Go ahead and mess around if you want,” I motioned to the recording booth. She gave me a big ass grin and jumped out of her seat.
Every other Saturday night a buddy of mine let me use his recording studio. It was just a small shack of a room in the basement of his house, but it was pretty efficient and got the job done. He had great equipment, the place had its own entrance from the outside, and the soundproofing was the best ever. Never a complaint from a single neighbor.
I don’t lay any tracks from myself, though. Nope, I don’t play anymore. I lost that desire a year ago when my fucking heart was ripped out of my chest and it flittered off to Florida. In a huge corner of that heart was my love for playing music, but I was somewhat okay with it being gone. Everything about it was somehow associated with her. Every song I’d played reminded me of her, every instrument I picked up reminded me of her, and any time I opened my mouth or tried to write something down…it was about her.
After she left, I still played for a couple of months. But the sweet songs that I’d written gutted me to a point where the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth anymore. And then my hurt turned to anger and everything I wrote was hateful, vengeful, or just straight up awful. It turned me into a different person because I was starting to feed off of it. Music has the power to do that, to put you into another place entirely. I knew that like an alcoholic knows to stay away from his liquid regret, but it didn’t stop me from basking in my misery anyway.
The day my brother found me passed out in my room after not leaving my house for six days straight was the day I realized something needed to change. I don’t remember what led up to me being buck-naked in my house with bottles of Jack D and vodka littering my entire place, but he took pictures to prove a point and I saw the aftermath with my own eyes.
“I’m not being a fucking douche, Matty. Look at my damn phone!” he yelled at me.
I was a stubborn fucker. I didn’t like being told what to do, especially by my little brother. But I turned my eyes to the screen he was shoving in my face and saw my wasted self sprawled out on the floor of my room, cock and all.
“You see?” Trent growled at me. “I wanna help you, man. Just let me help you!”
That was when I knew I needed to stop bringing myself down to that low place and I had to put my music aside. It was a talent I wasn’t using for anything good, so it was better off being shelved for a while. I’m not sure if I can ever go back to playing like I used to. In my head I see myself playing, but then I pick up a guitar and the cement starts to form in my chest again. I hate that feeling because I can’t breathe.
And it also reminds me that something dark has taken residence where my heart used to be.
The rich hum of a bass line brought my attention back to the sound room. Zoie was effortlessly strumming a riff from an AC/DC song but in a lower register. I listened for a little bit, enjoying the intricacy she’s capable of adding to any song she plays, just as the rest of the band come thundering down the outdoor steps.
Daryl entered the room first, followed by Troy and Lewis. Those three guys together are funny as hell, but I don’t think they have the makings to go anywhere big. They talk it, but they can’t walk it, and I felt that sometimes my work with them was a waste of time. It was always interesting and I got paid for it, but they weren’t my idea of ultimate success.
The following two hours seemed successful, however. The guys pulled through and recorded a few demos, even though I could tell Lewis was still a bit buzzed. When they left for the night, I cleaned up the studio and headed back to my own place.
Entering my empty house was never an enjoyable experience. Every time I came home, I was reminded there was no one there to greet me. You’d think after a year I’d get the hell over it, but the truth was, I never even tried. I felt like everything with Aubrey was meant to open my eyes. Indeed “everything happens for a reason,” and I was set on proving that to be true. Maybe we needed this separation in order to get to a better place, to understand ourselves better so we could build something stronger.
Yeah, I’m an optimistic motherfucker.
I’ve spoken to her a few times in the last year, and we’ve texted more than that. At some point she told me not to contact her, but there were a few reasons I needed to get a hold of her—reasons that weren’t personal so she’d actually respond. I hated the fact that she’d only talk to me if it had something to do with her family or mail that would come for her now and then. It didn’t happen so much anymore, but I still had the lingering hope that she’d feel inclined to give me more than a minute-long conversation.
Call me pathetic, I don’t really care, but when you believe in something, you just don’t give up easily. I wish she would talk to me about everything again. We could reach an understanding of some sort, I was sure of it. What happened and how she left surely opened my eyes. I guarantee I’m a better man because of it—slightly beaten down and struggling, but still better—and I want her to see that. I want her to see that I listened to everything she told me and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix things.
I didn’t think she was married yet. And her fiancé—whose name I knew was Grant because Aubrey had said it over the phone—was apparently as debonair as they get. He was literally the opposite of me. I’d never known Aubrey to like high society, but maybe it was something she had masked. Even though her father had been very vocal about her becoming a lawyer and “reaching her full potential,” she was usually pretty neutral to it all. Looking back, I guess she pacified he and I somewhat the same way; brushing off our personalities like they were just something floating around her. I’m not sure if I’ll ever understand how I could be so blind to all of this. I suppose we see what we want to sometimes, but now that my eyes have been opened, I’m far more aware of who I am and what I have to offer.
I just want a chance to prove it to her.
Yeah, quit thinking I’m dense for feeling this way. If you’ve been in my situation, then you probably understand perfectly. If not, just compare it to something you’ve done in your life and feel you’ve failed at; think about how much you want another chance to not only do it right but also better. It’s not regret for me; it’s not even wishing I could do something over again. I do feel that things happen the way they happen, and I’ve been in love with Aubrey for four years now.
I’m not ready to give up just yet.
2
“Hey, hermano, wake your ass up.”
That could only be the voice of my brother. Trent knew about five words in Spanish and he never failed to sound like a damn Gringo every time. The sad fact was that he did it on purpose.
“Why the hell are you in my house and…” I looked at the clock. It was barely eight in the morning. “And why so early?” I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. “You better have a good reason for being here so fucking early. It’s Sunday.” It was the only day I got to sleep in and I was pretty pissed.
“Hot chick is moving in down the street. I think we need to help her out.”
My eyes rolled automatically. Trent would use any opportunity he could to fraternize with good-looking females. “So go help,” I answered, dropping back onto my pillow.
“Oh come on, Matt. I need my wingman. Please?”
I sat back up. “Do you even know who she is? How do you know someone’s moving into my neighborhood? Even I didn’t know that.”
“Because you don’t notice much when you’ve got she-who-shall-not-be-named on your mind all the time. You’ve pretty much quit on the rest of the people in life.”
He somewhat had a point—when it came to females in the romantic sense, at least.
I groaned and rolled out of bed to head for the bathroom. Knowing my brother, he wasn’t going to give this a rest so I figured I’d indulge him. There was nothing else going on for me that day except yard work. Maybe getting my ass moving early would help me get all of that shit done today too.
By the time I got dressed, Trent was heading out the door. He hollered that he forgot about something going on at the gym he worked at but I really couldn’t understand what he was talking about. He had major A.D.D. and was always jumping from one thing to the next.
Well I was already up and dressed to get dirty, so I headed for the garage and pulled out the lawn mower. The lots in my neighborhood really weren’t that big, so there wasn’t much yard, either. My backyard was literally just twenty feet deep and the six-foot fence was the only thing that separated my small space from the next neighbors’ lot that held the same dimensions. It only took me thirty minutes to cut the grass and clean up the sidewalks, and even though I always made yard work sound like a chore, I actually liked working outdoors. My dream had been to purchase some land, build a house, buy a tractor so I could cut my acres of grass…
Not a dream that Aubrey wanted to share, apparently. She’d made that perfectly clear. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if she just needed some time away; a chance to experience life a little more before she settled down with a family. I honestly couldn’t blame her for that. She’d lived in this city her entire life and I’d only been here for about five years. Trent and I had a single mom that had to move around a lot, just to find work. That’s not the kind of “traveling” anyone would knowingly seek, but for me and my brother it was enough for the time being. We just wanted some roots; a place we could call home and have everything we needed.
Aubrey had grown up a city girl and had never been without anything in her life. Maybe my need for roots and feeling safe and secure were indeed equal to her need to explore and feel free. I’m certainly not one to judge where someone has come from in their life. Aubrey just had different challenges to work through than I did.
Realizing I was going down that road again, I shook my thoughts of the past and shut the garage door. Glancing down the street, I could see a moving van in the driveway four houses down. It wasn’t a very big moving van, and it looked like the two guys were climbing in to head out. I watched until they pulled away, and as soon as they did, I saw her.
My new neighbor.
She was standing on the
edge of the driveway, arms loosely folded across her chest. Her head followed the van until it disappeared around the corner, and then her shoulders fell in what seemed like a heavy exhale. Her hands came up to her face and she rubbed at it for a few seconds, and then they dropped to her sides.
That’s when she saw me.
I’m not really known for checking out women. Bouncing from different music gigs, there were definitely plenty to choose from. But I’d never had my eyes set on anyone but Aubrey throughout all those times. I would converse and mingle with some of the audience members after a show, but knew better than to give any one female too much attention. You end up giving them the wrong idea—or they have something in mind on their own—and it’s not going to end well. I have friends that have been down that road way too many times, and I’ll tell you this… I’m glad I never had to deal with the aftermath.
I realized I was still staring at this woman down the street—and she was still staring at me—but it was kind of impossible to look away. A slight breeze had kicked up and her light brown hair was softly billowing behind her. I didn’t even notice what she was wearing until I found myself getting closer in proximity to her: ripped jeans, a tank top, and a pair of Chucks.
Hell, I had walked across three yards and driveways and hadn’t even realized it until her red shoes were right in front of me.
“Hey, welcome to the neighborhood,” I told her. Feeling formal for some reason, I held out my hand and added, “Matt Alexander.”
The second I put my hand out there, I cringed inside. I knew I was dirty head to toe, especially my hands, and considered changing it to a fist bump instead. Yeah, that would have been really stellar. But she shook my hand, firmly, and gave me a tiny smile while she made eye contact with a pair of eyes that I could only describe as silver in color. They were very unusual, and also hard to look away from.
“Clare Reynolds. And thank you.” She pulled a hair tie out of her pocket and whipped her long hair into a ponytail. “And…duty calls. I have a lot to get done before tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Matt.”
