by Amber Nation
I pointed my finger at the man who spilled the beans, wanting to roar with laughter at the way his eyes bugged out of his head. The man may resemble a brick shit house, but he was a softy. A sheep in wolves clothing if you will. “You! Your ass is mine next time on the field.” I wasn’t going to use my anger to take it out on Roscoe in the locker room. I was going to save it and let it stew then show them exactly who “The Beast” was out on the field.
I slid myself into an empty booth in Trudy’s café wondering why the hell people were still talking about “The Storm.” I placed my grandé white chocolate mocha on the table in front of me, setting my cell phone next to it, and began peeling off my million layers I wore to protect me from the frigid weather. It had been several weeks since “The Storm” as everyone had dubbed it, and it still seemed to be the highlight of the entire town and their conversations. Honestly, I wish the topic could be squelched and soon.
Thirty-eight inches. Apparently, record-breaking weather and the town next to us was considered to be in a state of emergency. Inside Tate Manor, we weren’t the wiser. I was just glad that we were dug out when we had been. If my heart was already this shattered over just a handful of days, think of how bad it would’ve been if we had more time together.
Who was I kidding? I would give anything to have had more time with Holden.
I took a small sip from my steaming cup, knowing that it would burn my tongue. But it served its purpose of dissolving the lump in my throat and moving my mind elsewhere. Even if that involved a tingling sensation and a few days’ worth of abnormal taste.
The last few weeks had been brutal, and it seemed as if I had currently entered the stage of having a pity party.
The stages of Marlee having her heart broken were as followed:
1. Obsessive Crying. This stage wasn’t a pretty one, but imperative nonetheless. My dad had absolutely no clue of what to do with me, so he did what any good parent should. Bought me an obscene amount of chocolate and left me to my sad movies and melancholy state. The only good thing about this stage was that Trudy was with me the entire time. She had been more of a godsend than usual, and for that, I would be eternally grateful.
2. Anger. Again, Dad was as clueless as they came. Being that I was twenty-five, I’d never really ever had a bad breakup. Not saying that Holden and I really had anything to quote, unquote, break up. But my past relationships had always parted amicably. Holden attached himself to my soul and then was ripped away by lies and half-truths. Trudy and I took our time bashing “The Beast” and everything he stood for. Then I would go back and have a crying jag over the fact that I thought anything negatively about him.
I wouldn’t say that I was completely over the anger stage. Or the obsessive crying state either. Who cared, they were my stages so I could revisit them as often as I’d like.
3. Then there is the final stage and the one that I’m determined to spend the least amount of time dwelling in. Personal Pity Party. I didn’t like feeling sorry for myself, but I thought it was imperative to getting over Holden. I deserved to lick my wounds, and that didn’t mean that I was any less of a woman for doing so. If anything, it would only make me stronger in the end, right? This would teach me not to trust so easily.
Even though I was making such a big deal with these stages, when it boiled down to it, I came up with the exact same outcome. I missed Holden, albeit more than I should. Which meant that I shouldn’t be missing him at all.
There were just some things that weren’t making sense to me. If Holden was this big, bad animal then why didn’t he lash out at Greg when Greg said that I was with him? Yeah, we ended up getting the entire story from Greg. It was completely pathetic on how easy Trudy got him to spill the beans. I think it’ll be a really long time before he tries hitting on me again.
Back to the fact that Holden didn’t lash out at Greg. Maybe Holden had changed during the time he was at Tate Manor. It was a longshot, but people could change if they really wanted to. It was either that or he didn’t care about me and equally didn’t care that Greg stated we were together. I wanted to believe in the former, but it seemed as if the latter was more promising. I mean if Holden did care, wouldn’t he have asked me about what Greg said instead of taking it at face value?
Trudy plopped down in the seat across from me and released the longest sigh that I’ve ever heard. Not only that, but you could just see the exhaustion sweeping over her face.
Mornings around the café were always hopping, but even more so lately since the snow had all but disappeared. People were going stir crazy being cooped up at home. It seemed I’ve seen everyone in town at some point over the last couple of days.
It was entirely obvious, but I still found myself asking, “Busy day?”
“The absolute busiest,” she grunted before taking a healthy sip of her own coffee. Trudy was the very definition of a coffeeholic, hence the name of her café. But more so than that, she was an utter coffee snob. She actually started this café on a dare from me. She would whine relentlessly that she couldn’t find a decent cup of coffee around here, so I dared her to do something about it.
Even before the challenge was brought forth from me, she always stated that coffee was her fondest memory. So, in the end, it made complete sense.
When she was younger, she’d go to visit her grandfather once a week. And each time she would come bounding in his house he would be perched at his kitchen table, watching his little thirteen-inch television, with, you guessed it, a cup of coffee sitting in front of him on his vinyl tablecloth.
She would climb onto his lap and immediately reached for the coffee cup. But before she picked it up off of the table and brought it to her lips, she would look up at him and bat her lashes just waiting for the go ahead.
And every single time he would make a spectacle of glancing down the hallways making sure that the coast was clear. Then he would whisper, “Just don’t tell your mom,” followed by a wink.
It was their little secret. And even though she didn’t tell her mom until much later, it seemed the explanation wasn’t even needed. Her mother knew all along, but being that it was Trudy and her grandfather’s little thing, she let it go.
“Do you need help with anything?” I always offered, she always refused.
“Nah,” she waved off. “Just a busy morning and then misunderstandings with vendors. Nothing that I can’t handle.” And she always said that I was the stubborn one. We were two peas in a pod; I think that’s why we always got along so well, or tended to fight like sisters, whichever way you wanted to look at it.
“Hey!” She perked up and snapped her finger as if she just remembered something. “Cale said that you didn’t get your usual.”
I focused a little too closely on my hands that were wrapped around my coffee cup and wondered when exactly my coffee order turned discussion worthy.
“Don’t you think that you’re being a bit too ridiculous?”
I scoffed, absolutely appalled. Who was she to say whether or not I was being too ridiculous? Was there actually any such thing? “Nope. I think I’m being just the right amount of ridiculous. Thank you very much.” I lifted my cup and made a point to take a more than generous sip. The white chocolate mocha just wasn’t the same, but I had to keep my face neutral in order to make sure my point was received.
“Really, Marlee? When in the last five years have you not ordered hot chocolate? The answer is one, today! We spent hours upon hours perfecting that recipe because it was your favorite and you refused to drink anything else. And now all because of him, you’re going to quit it cold turkey?”
Trudy was taking the anger stage to her own levels, that being the most extreme. She’s even gone as far as to not use his name, only referring as him. Although that was a step down from asshole, so maybe she’s making progress.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just thought I would try to mix things up a bit today.” I tried feigning ignorance, knowing damn good and well it wo
uldn’t get past Tru.
“Bullshit,” she barked. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t call you on your shit? You would come here in one-hundred-degree weather and still order that damn hot chocolate.”
Using my thumbnail, I picked at the sleeve on my coffee cup, feeling as if I was being berated. I normally didn’t lash out at Trudy, but feeling as if I was being walked all over didn’t settle well with me anymore.
I didn’t have a chance to form any kind of rebuttal because the ping of my phone interrupted our conversation. I would be thankful for the reprieve if I didn’t know that very ping would be the opening of a whole new can of worms.
I tried to ignore the screen of my phone which illuminated with the twitter notification. But not Nosey Nellie, oh no. Trudy didn’t even try to make the glance look accidental. She full out tried to stare at the screen and then swung her eyes to me. I wanted nothing more than to slide down in my seat so I wouldn’t be forced to endure the wrath of my friend. So rather than watch her face contort into some twisted form of incredulousness, I simply turned my attention elsewhere.
I continued to feel her eyes bore into the side of my face, and I knew that she wasn’t going to back down. It was up to me to relent, as it always was, even though it pertained to my life, and I should be the one choosing whether or not I wanted to share.
My fingers continued their assault on the edge of the coffee cup sleeve, and I purposefully kept my gaze averted as I stated, my voice low, “So, I did a thing.”
“Well, that much is obvious. It isn’t anything to where I’ll need to specify your whereabouts to the police, is it?” Before I got a chance to explain further or before I really knew what she was doing, she snatched up my phone and started pressing buttons and trolling around on the screen.
Her eyes widened as she undoubtedly scrolled through my twitter newsfeed. My heart rate sped up, and I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. Was I entirely hopeless that I was more worried about what the tweet said rather than the fact that I had been busted doing something that could constitute on borderline stalking?
What did it say?! I screamed in my head. The anticipation of what was relayed within one hundred and forty characters or less was killing me. What if he got in trouble again? Or God forbid, what if he got hurt?
My fingers itched to snatch my phone right out of her hands so I could have my fix. I know exactly what you’re thinking. She won’t have hot chocolate, the single most amazing beverage ever, but she’ll watch her twitter feed like a hawk in case someone says something about him?
“It really isn’t what it looks like…” Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say? What everyone expects to be said in a case like this?
She looked up from her reading and pointed down toward the phone in her hand. “Oh really, because it looks like you’ve set up to be alerted every single time someone tweets about Holden Reed or The Beast.”
I slouched over, leaning my elbows onto the table and smashed my cheeks in between my hands. “Well, when you put it that way, it’s exactly how it seems. I’ve officially hit rock bottom, Trudy.” This time, I glanced out the window, watching all the passerby’s and trying like hell to keep my tears at bay.
“Marlee, look at me.” I granted her request, and she looked sympathetic. “I’m worried about you, sweetie. It isn’t like you to be hung up over some guy.”
She was one hundred percent correct. But Holden wasn’t just some guy. I stupidly thought he was the guy. But it wasn’t as if I could turn my feelings off with a flip of a switch; believe me sometimes I wished that I could do just that.
“I need to go to AA.”
She furrowed her brows in confusion. “Maybe you are a little too far gone, but honey, you aren’t an alcoholic.”
I dropped my hands onto the table and allowed my head to fall as well, “I was referring to Asshole Anonymous.” She chuckled, so I arched my head so I could look up at her as I allowed a tear to fall down my cheek. “I love him, Trudy.”
She reached out and grabbed hold of my hand and intertwined her fingers with mine. “Oh, sweetie, I know you do. I knew that when you would fall for someone you would do it hard, because my girl doesn’t do anything half-assed.” A small smile formed in the corner of my mouth. “Not the smile that I was hoping to see, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“I just wish that he felt the same way about me. How could he even think that I would open up so much to him all the while having a boyfriend?”
With my question, Trudy appeared sheepish, which wasn’t exactly the response that I was hoping for. I sat up from my pity party perch and pointed at her. “You know something.” She tried pulling the same stunt as me and looked away. Oh no, that wasn’t happening. Not now. “Trudy, so help me you had better spill. If you don’t, I’ll tell Cale how big of a crush you have on him.”
Trudy gasped horrified, “You wouldn’t!”
And the truth was that the old Marlee wouldn’t even think about it. But I was past the point of being toyed with. My heart and my happiness were on the line here, and I had to step up and look out for my number one. That being myself. “Trudy, don’t try me because I’ll stand up right here and let everyone know it including Cale,” my voice was rising with each and every word that was said.
I moved to push myself up from the booth when her hand darted out and grabbed me by my wrist to stop me. “All right, all right. I’ll tell you; just sit back down.” She glanced around to see if Cale had caught onto our little conversation, but it appeared that he was none the wiser. I was thankful that I didn’t have to spill the beans because that should be done if and when Trudy ever felt ready. But I felt like I needed something in my arsenal that I could actually use against her, and that was virtually the only thing. It was either that or telling her mom when she really lost her virginity…Two years prior to when she actually admitted to it. But being that we were each well into our twenties, there wouldn’t be any repercussions to that admission. So here we were.
“I went after Holden after he stormed out.”
It was my turn to queue the dramatics, or rather, even more of them. I slammed both of my open palms down on the table. “You did what? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wasn’t going to either, it wasn’t my place. It was Holden’s. But since he doesn’t seem to be getting his head out of his ass, then I guess I have no choice but to intervene.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My friend didn’t keep secrets from me. How was this any different than what Holden did to me? “He knows that you aren’t with Greg. It was just his jealousy getting the better of him. He’s known for acting out and not asking questions and that’s exactly what he did. It also didn’t help matters that he one hundred percent thinks that he isn’t good enough for you. Which is why he didn’t tell you about his profession, and, more importantly, the name that surrounds him in said profession. He was ashamed. He liked how you looked at him as if he hung the moon and didn’t want anything to tarnish that.”
“He told you all of that?”
“Not in so many words… But I got the gist of it.”
I shook my head, tears shimmering in my eyes because that sounded exactly like Holden. Back to being a man of few words.
“Are you mad at me? I really had your best interests at heart. I can tell that you’re hurting, and the fact that I can’t help you get past this is killing me. I can’t stand seeing you so sad.”
I couldn’t really be mad at her, her heart was in the right place. That didn’t mean that I had to like it, though. I reached over and picked up my phone, allowing the silence to stretch between the two of us. She deserved to sweat it out a few minutes. I looked at the notification that started this entire situation between us and decided that this would be it. This would be the last time that I wanted to see a notification regarding Holden ‘The Beast’ Reed.
And this current tweet seemed like the perfect parting, all summed up in one hundred and forty characters or less…
Fox News 27 @FoxNewsNow
#BreakingNews Panthers Running Back, Holden Reed considering trade. Just as #TheBeast is finally back in action, could he be moving on?
My heart dropped at the fact that it seemed as if he was moving on, quite literally. But this had to stop somewhere, so it might as well have been here. I went to my settings and deleted everything I entered pertaining to notifications regarding Holden. I even thought about deleting my entire Twitter app, but I wasn’t that strong just yet.
Trudy closely watched my every move and smiled when I placed my phone back onto the table. “The ball is in his court. Let’s see if he decides to make the play.”
“Not to correct you, Marlee, but that’s a basketball analogy.”
“Too true, Trudy. But I don’t know the first thing about football, so that’s as good as it’s going to get.” We each smiled before I took another sip of my coffee and allowed my face to finally twist reacting to the taste. “Trudy, I’m sorry to admit this, but your white chocolate mocha leaves a lot to be desired.” I turned toward the empty counter where Cale was busy wiping the surface down with a rag since he had a lag in customers. “Hey, Cale.” Once I got his attention, I raised my cup and yelled, “Make me a hot chocolate, will ya?” Letting go of Holden felt strangely freeing. That didn’t mean that I was over him, I was just done obsessing about it. It was time to get on with my life. I couldn’t continue to dwell on what could have been; I could only focus on what was.
Trudy threw her head back and laughed, “There she is. Welcome back, girl.”
I was back. But insecurity was a real bitch, and the question that lurked around in my mind was for how long.
(April)
I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. My palms were sweaty, and there was a swarm of butterflies dancing around in my stomach. Here I was standing on the edge of the football field for the Denver Broncos. Well, their practice field anyways.
