He always wanted more.
I didn’t want more.
I was numb, just going through life as it came.
I wasn’t happy.
I wasn’t sad.
I just was.
He went to a different school and had wanted us to settle down as a real couple.
The relationship thing wasn’t for me. I was content with what we had. He was fun: he was what I needed.
I used him.
I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is.
This time, though, he knew, and I refused to be held responsible for it again.
“I’ll see you around, Abbygail.”
Better Left In The Past
Oliver
As I watched her walk away with slumped shoulders, I started to understand what Jenna was trying to tell me about her daughter. The Abbygail I knew wouldn’t have let anyone be in her face like that. I hadn’t heard the whole conversation between her and Chase, but I’d heard enough to make me angry. When I finally got to listen in, he had been diminishing my relationship with her to nothing, spitting out everything we ever did together like he knew us.
The guy was a jealous prick, and when I saw him kiss her, I had this overwhelming urge to step outside and pull him away from her. I couldn’t understand where it had come from, but when she pushed him away, telling him she didn’t love him, I felt relieved.
···
I observed her from the kitchen window, sitting under the willow tree. She’d changed her elegant dress to an oversized pair of sweat pants and her converse shoes, but even then she still looked beautiful.
The wind had just recently picked up, rocking her as she sat on the swing chair that was hooked onto one of the branches. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me, telling me to go see her, to make sure she was okay, but I was petrified.
“Why don’t you just go see her, Oliver?” Jacob asked as he reached for the kettle on the stove. He was making orange blossom tea for Jenna and himself.
“I’m not sure. It’s complicated, I guess.”
“You haven’t spent much time alone with her since you came back, have you?”
I snorted. “Whatever time we’ve spent alone hasn’t resulted in anything positive.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he answered.
My eyes shifted to his, and I looked at him curiously. I had no idea how fighting with Abby could be a good thing.
“Son, I know we don’t know each other well, heck I don’t even know Abbygail all that much, but I’ve heard the stories, and I’ve seen with my own eyes many things this evening. I have to ask you, what are you afraid of exactly?”
“Pain,” I muttered.
“Hers or yours?”
I frowned.
“Don’t answer, just think about it.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Pain is good,” Jacob explained.
“Pain isn’t good. Pain hurts. I don’t want to hurt and I especially don’t want to hurt her.”
“Pain means you care,” he refuted.
“Of course, I care. I’ve always cared.”
What kind of a stupid comment was that?
“Then go talk to her. Tell her how you feel.”
“And what am I supposed to say? It’s been six years!”
Jenna stood from her spot and walked over to me. She took my face in her hands, and urged me to look at her. “How about you just start with the beginning and tell her what’s been in your heart for all those years.”
Abbygail
I couldn’t count the number of hours I’d spent under the willow tree. Crying, and pleading Henry to send Oliver back to me. Over time, I had simply lost hope, and the tree just became a peaceful way for me to let go. It was a place where I could release all the hurt I had bunched up inside of me.
Oliver had been watching me for a while. I noticed when I took a seat on the swing that he was looking at me through the kitchen window. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me until he made it outside. I sensed his presence just as I did years ago. The connection we had to one another hadn’t been weakened with time.
My heartbeat sped up a notch when he got closer.
He stood a few feet behind the tree, as if he was waiting for some sort of invitation to come closer.
I turned my head in his direction. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
He passed the branches and stood in front of me with a grim smile. The sun had set a long time ago; the kitchen and dining room lights had been shut off. The only thing that illuminated us was the faint glow of the white Christmas tree lights my mother refused to take down from the tree over the years.
“Can I sit?”
I moved over a little without saying a word. The chair looked more like a small park bench. It wasn’t big, so when he crossed his feet up on the swing like mine, our knees touched.
“Thanks.” He handed me a corner of our old comforter that he had brought outside with him in addition to throwing his Vans sweatshirt on. Unlike me, he appeared to have anticipated the temperature dropping soon. It was a thoughtful gesture, and I tried to smile in appreciation, but it came out wrong. All I could think about now was the last time he and I shared this kind of intimacy.
“It’s nice here. I miss this place.”
I nodded sadly. “My own little safe haven, I guess.”
Silence took over as we sat closely together. The only sounds we heard were the whispers of the remaining leaves on the willow tree. Chills ran up my spine when the wind picked up and I lifted my head to feel its cool breeze between the rustling branches. It smelled like snow. I really hoped I was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting the serenity.
I felt the ache in his every word. I closed my eyes and bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted the bitter flavor of blood, waiting and chewing on my own words. I had so much to say, but couldn’t get anything out. It was as if everything got stuck in my throat.
“Abby, please.” He reached out for my hand that was fiddling with the drawstring of my hoodie. I recoiled from him and met his eyes for the first time since he’d taken a seat.
He looked hurt. “You have to know how sorry I am.”
I took my eyes away from his and looked up at the sky through the branches. The wind kicked in, and I felt tears threatening to escape my eyes.
“What for?”
“What do you mean, what for?”
“I mean, why are you so sorry, Oliver?” I angrily wiped the tears that ran down my cheek. “For lying to me? For kissing me? Which kiss are you most sorry for: the first or the second one? Are you sorry for leaving me, even though I begged you on my hands and knees to stay? Are you sorry for not saying goodbye? For not writing back except for the one crappy letter that ruined the little remaining friendship we had? How about not giving me any sign of life for the past six years? Or interfering with my love life even though you were long gone? Although, maybe I should be the one accepting the biggest part of the blame for that. Are you sorry about calling me a whore yesterday?” I looked at him. “I trusted you, Oliver. I fucking loved you. You were my life, and you abandoned me even though you promised me you never would. So tell me, Oliver, what could you possibly be sorry for?”
“I never called you a whore.”
Figures…
“So that’s what you’re going with first?”
“I don’t know!” he growled. He turned sideways, and leaned his back on the armrest to face me. “What do you want me to say?”
“Anything!” I roared.
“I was hurting, Abbygail. I thought it was my fault my dad was late for work. In my mind, had I not talked to him about us that morning, he would have been alive and on time.”
I saw a huge tear roll down his cheek. The loss of his father was still something he struggled with.
“It was an accident, Oliver.”
“I know, Abby. But six years ago, I didn’t believe that it was. I believed that it was my fa
ult he died, and I drowned my pain and guilt with anything I could find.”
“But—”
“I needed an out, Abs. I hated who I was becoming. I didn’t want to be a shadow of a person anymore, but most importantly, I didn’t want to hurt you. I had no other choice but to leave.”
The silence between us got thick and the memories of my pain flooded back. I looked away from Oliver and tried to retain my tears.
“Abby,” he called and I looked back at him. “I am so sorry for putting you through it all. I need you to believe that I didn’t want you to be in so much pain. I wanted to protect you from mine.”
Oliver
“I talked to your mother earlier. What happened with you?”
I hoped she would divulge more information than her mother would. But I saw the disapproval in her eyes.
“I guess I just wasn’t as strong as you were,” she spat.
“I’m sorry.”
She stared ahead for a while; I actually thought I’d lost her. But then she looked at me again. Something in her eyes changed in the blink of an eye. They became emotionless.
“That’s the thing, though, Oliver. You can’t be sorry because it’s not your fault. So you left? Things happen, and people move away. I made my own choices, and even though your leaving was my trigger to lose control, you never made me do any of those things. That’s all on me.”
“I wish I could have been there for you, Abby.”
She shrugged and looked away.
“Had I known—”
“Why are you here Oliver?”
Where did that come from?
It annoyed me that she’d gotten so cold with me all of a sudden.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“No. I mean, why are you here? Why did you come back?”
Answering her meant sharing too many of my own feelings, so I just kept silent.
“How much does it hurt?” she challenged again.
“I don’t understand your question.”
“Being back here, seeing your old hometown, your old friends… are you trying to numb the loss of your mother with a different kind of pain?”
“No.”
“Then what is it? Why-are-you-here?”
“I’m here because I wanted to... I wanted to see you. I remember watching you in your bedroom window when I left. All I wanted to do was come over and… I never said goodbye. I—”
“So you’re here to say goodbye six years later?” she interjected. “You could have saved yourself the trip, Oliver; water under the bridge. I don’t care about that anymore. Besides, I said goodbye to you a long, long time ago.”
She stood ready to leave but I wasn’t ready to let her go yet. “I overheard your conversation with Chase.”
“And?”
“He said you used to be in love with me.”
“News flash, Oliver, I was in love with you. Like head over heels in love with you. Like I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this guy, kind of love.” A gust of wind blew past us. “I’m done talking about this.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m not having this discussion with you, Ol.”
“Why not? You wanted me to talk. This is me talking. I have questions. Aren’t I allowed to have my own answers?”
“You want answers?” she replied with a sarcastic chuckle. “Answer me this, because it’s been gnawing at me for years now and I can’t seem to move past it. Why did you kiss me?”
I frowned. I didn’t expect her question, and I also hadn’t expected her to walk away from me so quickly.
“There’s your answer, Oliver,” she replied closing the backyard gate behind her. “Sometimes things are just better off left in the past. Please tell my mom I went home.”
I followed close behind her until we made it to the front of the house, and watched as she crossed the street.
“Abbygail?” I called when she reached the door to my old home. I made sure I had her full attention before I spoke. “I just wanted to tell you, that for the record, I never was nor am I ever going to be sorry for kissing you.”
I walked in before she responded, and as I turned out the lights, I looked through the door window and saw her smile.
Just like old times
Abbygail
An assaulting, repeated thud woke me up from my unrestful sleep. It was loud and obnoxious, and I didn’t understand where it was coming from until I looked at the time and noticed it was 8:30.
Crap, crap, crap…
I ran down the steps and heard her angry voice. “Abbygail Evens, if you don’t come down and open the—”
“Hi,” I answered out of breath.
“Hi? That’s all you have to say to me?” she walked in and dropped her Gucci bag on the floor. I shut the door behind her, leaving the cool air out of my house. The previous day’s warmth had clearly dissipated, but at least it wasn’t snowing yet.
“I have been knocking on your front door for the past half-hour.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I overslept.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Where’s who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You know who.” She seemed more amused than upset.
“No, I don’t.”
“Oliver.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Kylie.”
She passed me and ignored my comment. “Oliver?” she shouted again as she walked up the stairs. Clearly, my friend had trust issues that went deeper than mine. I let her wander around the house yelling his name until she finally came to her senses and realized that Oliver wasn’t there. “Huh… I thought for sure he’d be here.”
“Yeah, well, you thought for sure wrong. I’m going to shower. Go watch T.V. or something.”
···
I came back downstairs twenty-five minutes later, freshly showered and ready to leave. Kylie was standing on the other side of my kitchen patio door. She seemed to be in deep conversation, and I had to knock twice on the window before finally getting her attention. I raised an eyebrow when she put her finger up in order for me to wait as she continued her animated conversation.
“Really?” I heard her reply as I opened the door. “Yep. Sure okay.”
“Nope I’ll see you soon. Bye.” She hung up. “I’m sorry about that, Abby.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“A friend from work.”
She looked at me from head to toe. The click of her tongue informed me that she disapproved the clothing I’d chosen to wear. Kylie and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye when it came to clothes. As much as I liked to dress up once in a while, there was nothing I appreciated more than my ripped jeans and laced boots.
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Yes, Kylie. It’s what I’m wearing. Please tell me: what’s the problem with my clothes, now?”
I walked over to the entrance, grabbed my bomber jacket, and looked at myself in the mirror. I thought I looked cute, and my Rolling Stones tank top completed my look perfectly.
“We’re going shopping, Kylie, not to a fashion show. You’re the one that will regret the heels, not me.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m not changing, Ky.” I put my jacket on and picked up my purse. “Let’s go!”
She mumbled something incomprehensible and turned to me. “Do you feel like breakfast before we hit the mall?”
“Good idea. I’m starving.”
“Is The Diner okay with you?”
“Sure, and I’ll buy since I made you wait for me.”
“Deal.”
The Diner was on our way to where we were headed so there was no need for a detour. The car was quiet, I hadn’t slept in two days, and I was so tired. Oliver’s visit was going to make my week at work excruciatingly long.
“So, do you want to tell me how dinner went yesterday?”
I grimaced. “Not until I’ve had my first coffee.”
&n
bsp; “That bad, huh?” she mocked.
“Bad, good…I don’t even know how I feel about the whole thing yet. One thing is for sure, though, Chase will be out of the picture for a while.”
“Finally.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it means, Abby. I don’t even know why you keep him around. He’s boring.”
“He’s cute.”
She made a disgusted face. Kylie didn’t really like Chase. Come to think of it, none of my friends did.
“He is.” I argued. “You know, in a boy-next-door kind of way.”
“He’s hung up on you like a two-year old can be hooked on its blanky. He’s clingy and possessive, even though you two haven’t dated since high school. It’s time he got a clue. I bet he threw a fit at the real boy-next-door.”
She stopped at the red light before we turned the corner to reach our destination and I raised my eyebrow at her. It seemed Oliver had also gotten under her skin. I was relieved: at least I wasn’t the only one.
“The real boy next door?”
“Don’t give me that look: you know who I’m talking about.”
“Oh I do,” I smirked thinking about Oliver’s body. “But he’s no boy next door.”
A car horn interrupted my reverie. I noticed the light was green, yet Kylie still hadn’t taken off. I looked over at her. She seemed like she was lost in her own thoughts.
“The light’s green, Kylie.”
“Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry.”
She took off and looked nervous all of a sudden. Driving twice around the parking lot, she circled the cars until she finally parked at the exact same spot we saw when we came in. The place wasn’t even that busy. What she was looking for was beyond me.
“Hey, Ky?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s up with you? You’ve been nervously tapping on the steering wheel since we’ve turned the corner.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have. You also looked for a parking space even though the place is full of empty spots.”
“Whatever Abs, I was just looking to see if there was a better spot.”
I shook my head raising my eyebrow at her. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Here’s what I think: you’re either nervous or you’re feeling guilty about something, so spit it out.”
Living with Regrets (No Regrets book 2) Page 7
