Let Her Go

by Briana Pacheco

  Walking out of the building, Owen mutters, “I’m hacking into his computer and downloading a bunch of animal porn when I get back to my apartment.”

  I reach out and find his hand, lacing our fingers together. His eyes stay on our hands before he looks up, the frustration turning into something calmer.

  He says I do that to him. I calm him. Most days, he does it to me too.

  “Don’t do anything stupid. He was drunk. And I punched him. We’re even.”

  Owen grunts. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  “You don’t like the way anyone looks at me.”

  “Well, baby girl here needs some loving and–”

  I freeze up, my arms going limp. “Don’t call me that.”

  Echo wiggles her elbow against my side, giggling. “Yes, ma’am! Please don’t punch me in the face. I’m too pretty.”

  Owen looks at me funny, his handsome face morphing into confusion. Before he can ask me why I don’t want to be called that I put a fake smile on my face, and put one foot in front of the other.

  “You know what, Echo, some day I’m going to hack into your computer, find the least flattering picture of you and post it everywhere,” Owen teases.

  She gasps, clutching her heart. “If you do that, I’ll hack into yours and send that dick pic to your mother!”

  What dick pic?

  Owen stops walking, turning toward her. “You’re the devil! That’s my mother.” His ears start to turn red when his eyes bounce to me quickly.

  I roll my eyes playfully. I know he got a little serious with his ex-girlfriend sophomore year. I caught them having phone sex once and I felt horrible yet extremely jealous for walking in on that. I told him to go explore. I literally forced him into it. It just hurt when I finally saw him happy with another person. For some reason, which I know is because Owen and I are too close (his ex called me out on it), their four month relationship ended and Owen hasn’t looked at anyone else. Except me.

  Those looks are the reason why I can’t look at anyone else either. I’ve tried with one guy but it didn’t work out. I constantly compared him to Owen. He had no chance, the poor thing.

  Echo winks at Owen. “Don’t test me. I’m just as smart as you.”

  They start throwing smart words around and it’s like I’m stuck in a foreign country, not understanding a word being spoken.

  “I can finish a six-hundred page book in less than five hours!” I call out, feeling small as they stare each other down. My best friends can be cocky assholes. They make up computer codes, can hack into some unhackable places, and can do some other nerdy things so sometimes, without meaning too, they make me feel left out because I’m an English major and I love to read whereas they’re majoring in Computer Science and Engineering and can speak nerd. I don’t really have any hidden talents. I’m just a slightly above average-sized girl being five-foot-six with light brown hair, light green eyes, and a tar-black soul with a sprinkle of gold glitter. With a love for books, tea, cats, and running, I’m perfectly fine. Okay, my therapist would say the whole “tar-black soul” comment is definitely something I shouldn’t say about myself. Well, I’ve got a lot of shit to deal with. My life isn’t all fucking rainbows. I’m paying her to help me.

  “Yeah, you can!” Echo confirms, throwing her hand up for a high-five. “Now you need to see how fast you’ll read that thick ass book on your nightstand.” I knew I loved her. She’s always challenging my reading speed.

  “She won’t read it as fast if you’re riding her ass about parties,” Owen interferes. “You can always stay at my place if you need peace and quiet, Zo. Being around Echo for a long period of time can be bothersome.”

  Echo flips him off and then trips on the sidewalk, catching herself before she goes down.

  “I know,” I manage to say through my smile. “I can’t read that book yet. I’m not emotionally over the last one I read.”

  Owen’s lips turn down into a sad pout. He throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “I told you the ending was sad.”

  And because I am me, the empathic bibliophile, I start bawling in the middle of the street, thinking of the book I shouldn’t have read because I knew the hero was going to die. I haven’t even seen the movie adaption because fuck me, I think I would collapse and die. Literally, stop breathing and never inhale again.

  “Ah, sweets, it’s okay. Here. Look at this cute cat video.” Echo shoves her phone in my face, and I’m a walking nightmare, crying and laughing until we’re up in Owen’s room drinking alcohol with his roommate Freddie until we pass out so both Owen and I don’t have to think about what tomorrow is.

  I wake up with one of the worst fucking hangovers I’ve ever had. Sleeping on this fucking couch doesn’t help it either. My body is sore from having to squeeze myself on this tiny piece of shit furniture all night. But I’d choose it over and over again so Zoë can have my bed.

  We usually share it if she stays over but Echo has taken my place. It was either they take the floor and the couch, and I have the bed or they have the bed and I take the couch. Like fuck I was going to let either one of them sleep on the goddamn floor. I was raised a gentleman.

  I swing my legs over the side of the couch and stand, squinting as I walk over to the windows and pull the curtains closed, blocking out most of the bright morning light coming in.

  That’s so much better!

  I stumble into the kitchen and grab a glass of water and some aspirin, taking a few minutes to get used to the pounding in my head.

  Get used to it, fucker. You’ll be drunk again in a few hours.

  I’m not an alcoholic. I just need to dull the ache in my heart that always lingers this time of year.

  I curl my hand into a fist and release it, not wanting to think about what today is but it’s pointless. This day will always come. Every fucking year. Always fucking reminding me. Seven years ago today I lost the one person I looked up to the most. Happy twenty-second birthday to me.

  I feel my heart do some weird shit as I think about him, about the way he slapped me on the back in congratulations and lifted me up onto his shoulders after I hit my first home run in little league baseball when I was seven. I think about the way he let me help him whenever he was working on something and he’d rough up my hair with a smile on his face. “I love you, kid,” he’d say. “You’re the best damn thing to ever happen to me.” I think about how fucking happy he made me, knowing he was my dad.

  And he’s gone. It fucking hurts having to remind myself of that every day.

  I get two more glasses of water ready and make my way toward my bedroom. It’s too early to deal with this depressing day.

  Both girls are sprawled out on my bed, their faces squished into the pillows. It smells like shit in here, the alcohol we drank from last night still lingering in the air.

  I walk to Echo’s side and set down one glass of water and two pills and then I walk over to Zoë’s, doing the same. She stirs in her sleep, turning her head my way.

  I lean down and brush back the hair covering her face. When it’s clear that she won’t wake up, I feel my lips curling up as I tap her nose lightly. It’s something I’ve done for the last decade. She usually looks away and smiles when I do it. When she’s sleeping, she wiggles her nose like a bunny.

  It’s fucking cute.

  She’s fucking cute.

  God, I love this chick.

  I don’t think I can pinpoint when exactly I fell in love with my best friend. Maybe it was when I was five, and I cried non-stop begging my mother not to leave me at school, and then out of nowhere a pretty girl with hypnotic green eyes appeared. Maybe it was when we were seven and I thought she didn’t love me anymore that my heart literally broke and I wished it wasn’t true because I loved her just like our parents loved each other. I told Mom about that the second Zoë’s mom’s car left the driveway. Mom said, “Oh, honey, when you truly love a person, it hurts to let them go.” So I made her tell
me about love. Her eyes glassed over and she told me about how she fell for Dad.

  That feeling, I’ve felt it with Zoë all my life.

  When I turned thirteen, Zoë and I snuck out of my house and walked to our spot down by the creek. She was still wearing her Halloween costume, which was basically Zoë in her own clothes because she was Bella from Twilight. The movie was releasing the next month, and since she read all the books and saw the movie trailers, she was obsessed. She even made me be Edward. I fucking hated that gray pea coat jacket but it made Zoë happy. When we got back to my house and dumped all of our chocolate on my bed, she disappeared for ten minutes and came back with a different attitude. Gone was the laughing girl who I promised to kiss goodnight. I didn’t know what caused the sudden change, but I hated it. Seeing her sad always fucking killed me. So I took her to our spot to try and get her to smile and talk to me.

  My heart broke every time she didn’t smile.

  As we got lost in Jordan Woods that day, we stood by the creek that has shared just about everything with Zoë and me, and I tried to understand why she was so sad but she never said a word.

  I told her that I loved her, like I always did.

  She smiled sadly and then looked away.

  That exact spot was where Zoë spotted a rabbit and was too afraid to try and catch it. I tried. The bunny hopped away like I was trying to kill it. When we were eleven that was the spot where I told Zoë I was going to marry her. She looked around at all the trees and giggled, saying, “Okay.”

  And when we were fourteen that was the spot where I kissed my best friend under the moonlight and told her that I loved her as more than a friend. She looked up at me, biting her lip with tears in her eyes. “Owen, we can’t,” she whispered.

  I never understood what she meant. We couldn’t kiss or we couldn’t love each other. Bella and Edward made it, why couldn’t we?

  That spot was where my heart was buried because not being able to love Zoë felt like I was a dead man walking.

  She never brought up that kiss again. But she never left my side the years after. My love for her grew tenfold. She doesn’t understand the power she has over me.

  Zoë isn’t like everyone else. She’s honestly the saddest happy person I’ve ever known.

  She walks into a room with her head held high, but there’s something in her eyes, in the way her lips don’t curl high enough that contradicts the façade she’s creating. I’ve tried for years to know what goes on inside that pretty little head of hers.

  But I’m always left in the dark.

  She’s my life; my entire existence. I want to know everything she’s thinking and feeling. I want to know why she’s sad most days and pretends to be happy.

  I want to love her the way she deserves to be loved.

  Though she doesn’t let me.

  And yet, I love this girl with everything that I am.

  Always have, always will.

  I take in her beautifully peaceful face before I turn away, letting her sleep.

  I head into the bathroom, starting the shower and then I turn toward the mirror and I stare at my reflection for five heartbeats. “Happy Birthday, son,” I hear my father say. I imagine him squeezing my shoulder, smiling at me while he does it.

  My father is gone.

  But Zoë is still here.

  And that fact keeps my heart beating.

  After a long, refreshing shower, I head into the kitchen and start making breakfast for everyone. It’s too quiet when everyone is sleeping.

  And then I hear her soft footsteps and I can’t help but shake my head playfully. Zoë always tries to sneak up on me.

  I turn my head to see her pout her lips and huff.

  “Hey,” I announce the second Zoë walks into the kitchen, dressed only in a long t-shirt of mine. Nothing else. “I made breakfast if you’re hungry.”

  I watch her eyes take me in, starting at my lips and slowly working their way down my chest. I’m only in a pair of navy blue sweatpants that have “Huskies” written down the side of one leg.

  I’m in good shape; running with Zoë, and playing basketball with the guys on the weekends helps too. Zoë rarely sees me like this though. I sleep with a t-shirt on if she’s in bed with me, and by the time I wake up, she’s gone for a run. I’m dressed when she comes back.

  The way her eyes travel over my abs makes me a little nervous, if I’m being honest. Zoë never pushed for being more than friends with me. She never did or said anything that would cause us to cross that imaginary line. But the way her eyes get this spark of desire in them is new to me. And I’ve noticed that she’s been touching me a little more.

  “Morning,” she murmurs, her eyes leaving my body as she walks closer.

  I’m leaning against the counter so when she reaches for a mug in the cupboard next to my head, she presses her left side into my body.

  She blushes when she steps back, apologizing to me and then she moves to my other side looking for a teabag.

  I head over to the stove and turn on the burner, setting the kettle down on it. I already filled it with water when I came into the kitchen. I was just waiting for Zoë to wake up. She loves listening to the kettle whistle.

  When I turn around, she’s right there, wrapping her arms around me. She doesn’t say it but with the little squeeze of her arms I feel her say happy birthday to me.

  She lets go shorty after, looking up at me with her gorgeous eyes. These eyes have haunted my dreams.

  They are my sweetest nightmare.

  “We still have half a bottle of tequila left,” she says.

  “Looks like our plans haven’t changed,” I comment. We’re still going to drink until we’re numb. Or at least, I am. Zoë is just keeping me company on a day I’d rather forget.

  I see something else in her eyes when she looks up, briefing making eye contact with me. Complete and utter sadness.

  Why are you so sad, Zoë?

  “What’s your wish for today?” she asks.

  “If I tell you it won’t come true.”

  Her lips twitch. “Then don’t tell me. But you still need to make a wish. I don’t have a candle. Just pretend I do.”

  I want us, Zo. You and me. Together.

  I lean forward and kiss her forehead.

  “My wish has been the same since we were kids. Clearly, I’m not wishing hard enough,” I tease.

  Her eyes drop to my chest, and she surprises me with, “I’ll wish with you.” Her eyes flutter closed and she smiles, knowing that I’m staring at her. “Are you wishing? We need to time it perfectly.”

  Time has never been on my side.

  I shut my eyes and make my wish.

  When my eyes open, Zoë sprinkles something imaginary in my face. “Fairy dust,” she whispers.

  I want to laugh and lift her into my arms and kiss the fucking shit out of her. Instead, I take her hand and kiss her wrist. “Why are you so fucking cute?”

  The whistle from the kettle gets louder and lures Zoë away from me. I grab my plate of food and make my way over to the table while Zoë fills up her mug with hot water. She looks up, her green eyes connecting with mine.

  “I love you, Zo.”

  Her lips curl up when she looks away, adding sugar into her mug. “Love you too, Wen.”

  I wonder if she understands just how much I love her. She’s in my every thought. I wake up and go to sleep with her on my mind. I breathe for her. Some people won’t understand it. It’s almost like an obsession I have with her. I need her in my life. Every memory I have, she’s in it.

  My day sucks until I hear her voice and feel her wrapped up in my arms.

  “Eeep!” Zoë squeals, setting the mug down and fanning her lips. “That’s too hot.” She sticks her tongue out and waves her hand even harder.

  She looks fucking adorable.

  I’m going to marry this girl some day. I need her to see that because I’m not going anywhere.

  I turn on my back for the tenth time t
his night and sigh in frustration. I grab my pillow and smother myself with it, growling.

  I can’t sleep!

  Not since I woke up yesterday knowing what day it was. After the Halloween party and the alcohol we consumed, we woke up not wanting to be a part of society. We drank until we were numb. So fucking numb.

  I left Owen’s apartment when I was sober enough and made the fourteen-minute drive back to my apartment in Radford Court. I’ve been on edge ever since.

  Seven years ago yesterday, Owen’s father and I were in that car accident. To this day, I am still not over it. It keeps me awake. It makes the little voice in my head never stop whispering about what I did.

  It drives me mad, hearing the devil’s voice play over and over again in my head. He never went away. Not even after he was buried six feet under.

  Baby girl, baby girl, baby girl. I’ve missed you.

  I count to a thousand, try to bore myself with math equations, finish a book on my Kindle, and eventually try the old fashioned way, just closing my eyes and waiting.

  Nothing works.

  I glance at the clock. 3:27 am stares back at me.

  I throw my comforter off my body, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I turn on my bedside lamp and grab my sweater off the floor. I’m already in yoga pants so getting dressed is quick.

  I head downstairs and stretch in the living room, making sure my muscles are ready for the beating they’re going to receive. I grab my phone and keys, heading out of my townhouse apartment quietly. It’s chilly as I step out into the early morning air, and it brings a smile to my lips. There’s a light drizzle, and not a soul walking in the distance. It’s perfect.

  The sun will be up in less than four hours. Hopefully, I can get at least an hour of sleep when I get back from this run.

  I start myself off at a steady jog down the sidewalk surrounding my apartment building before adding more momentum, running faster.

  This will work. It always does.