Bittersweet Melody

by Belinda Boring

  Everything became loud and overwhelming. Every sound and smell. The aisle suddenly became way too small, the shelves threatening to topple over and bury me alive.

  I needed to get home and put my purchases to use.

  Now.

  Tightening my grip on my cart, I could feel the oncoming storm building inside me. I was too exposed. “I’ve got to go, Caylee. Sorry,” I whispered, unable to hold the panic at bay. Leaving my shopping behind, I didn’t wait for her to reply or to offer an explanation. I had to get out—get home. It was already getting hard to breathe.

  Even after all this time, I still couldn’t predict when an attack would surface. With the help of a therapist and my own observations, I’d figured out most of my triggers, but that didn’t account for the unexpected.

  Fumbling for my keys, my hands shook, making it difficult to open my car door. Somehow, I managed, and once I was inside, I flipped the locking mechanism. It wasn’t the safety of my room, but it was enough for now.

  In, out.

  In, out.

  Breathe.

  Focus on the here and now.

  Distant sounds of explosions and gunfire grew louder and louder as phantom smoke filled the car, drowning me with its noxious fumes.

  Gasping, tugging at my shirts collar as it strangled me, my body started shaking as sweat dripped down the side of my face, my vision pixelating.

  Afghanistan.

  Death.

  It was as though I'd never left.

  It’s not real, Cooper. Breathe, goddamn it!

  There was no way I would let myself lose my shit here.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there, staring out into nothing, my heart thundering violently in my chest. Memories came crashing over me, and closing my eyes, I struggled to let them go. What I needed was something to numb it—anything. The noise was deafening inside my head. Unfortunately, the one thing that could help was back inside the store.

  Caylee.

  My stomach dipped. Not her . . . the alcohol.

  Never her.

  There was a knock at my window, startling me.

  “You forgot something.”

  I was tempted not to wind my window down, to simply start my car and drive away. It was the only thing that made sense. Stop this before everyone gets hurt.

  Me . . . her . . . both of us.

  So, of course, I didn’t. Opening the door, I got out. “Caylee, about . . .”

  She cut me off. “I hope you don’t mind, but you left everything behind.” Digging through her bags, she finally glanced up at me. “Where do you want these?”

  No judgment. No added comments about how I was killing my liver and drinking myself to death. Simply, you left and I thought you’d want these.

  She stunned me.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I mumbled, pulling the lever to open my trunk. Hefting a few bags out of her cart, I transferred them over, embarrassed. “How much do I owe you?” There was no way she was going to pay for all this. I knew how much my habit cost. Caylee gave me the receipt, and I scanned the list for the total, handing her a bunch of twenties. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” she smiled, and I waited . . . waited for what I assumed would come next. There wasn’t a female alive who could walk away without getting answers.

  What happened back there?

  Am I okay?

  Can we talk about that night at the bar?

  They always wanted to talk everything to death, including having me ‘express my feelings’.

  When she took in a deep breath, I braced myself to block her attempts. There was no fucking way I was going to be psychoanalyzed in the middle of a parking lot. Not ever.

  “What are you doing tomorrow night?” she finally asked.

  Huh? Totally not what I was expecting. “Umm, we have rehearsal.”

  “What about after? Do you do it all night?” She had the decency to blush the second she said it.

  Coughing around my first lewd response, I shook my head. “I think tomorrow’s a shorter practice. I should be done around eight. Why?”

  Caylee had already recovered from her accidental innuendo. “You’re coming over for dinner. I have a late class, and Rebecca and I always cook way too much. You’d actually be doing us a favor . . . in fact, bring Marty as well.” She was cute when she rambled.

  No.

  No way.

  Not a chance in hell.

  “Sure, it’s been a while since either of us have enjoyed a home-cooked meal.” My eyes briefly closed as I heard myself saying the complete opposite of what I’d intended. “Do you need us to bring something?”

  She laughed.

  I was beginning to crave that sound.

  “Surprise us.”

  Watching her walk away to her own car, something whispered that the biggest surprises were yet to come.

  Chapter Ten

  Caylee

  “He’s not the freaking Queen of England, Caylee.” Rebecca didn’t bother hiding her exasperation.

  “I know that,” I fired back, tilting my head as I examined my last attempt to set the table for dinner. Usually, we either ate standing up in the kitchen, catching each other up on how our day went, or in the living room, watching TV. We used the square dining table for homework that required we spread out multiple books for research—or at least, I did. It wasn’t uncommon for Rebecca to come home from her work-study job at the campus library and find me deep in Freud, Yung, and Erickson, some of the pioneers of psychology I was learning about.

  This would have to do. She was right, we were simply having Cooper and Marty over for an informal meal, not anything fancy to warrant this level of nerves.

  “Although,” she added, switching out the napkin holder in the center for the vase of fresh flowers I’d brought home. “Who doesn’t love the smell of tulips?”

  Seems I wasn’t the only one over-thinking. It hadn’t been until I told Rebecca that Marty would also be joining his friend that she’d become flustered. For the past three weeks, she’d affectionately been referring to him as ‘the one who got away’. No matter how many times I argued my estrangement from Cooper didn’t mean she couldn’t call Marty, she’d been adamant.

  It had something to do with the girl code. No matter how hot or how badly you wanted to rock the world of a good-looking guy, girls stuck together. Marty was linked to Cooper, so it made him off-limits. Her logic was sweet, albeit misplaced, but I appreciated it.

  While catching him in a compromising position had definitely been a shock, it was his silence later that hurt. For days after, each and every time my phone vibrated, I’d jumped, hoping it was him. Countless texts had been written—ranging from a simple, “So, what happened?” to angrier ones outlining what poor manners he had and how he sucked at being friends. I hated how it made me feel like I was back in high school¸ begging someone to take pity on me, to show common courtesy. Negative emotions churned inside, dredging up feelings I’d long ago dealt with.

  If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that Cooper Hensley wasn’t going to reduce me to bitterness. I cared too much for myself, valued the person I’d fought so hard to hold on to. Owen’s death had annihilated me. I refused to go back there.

  So I did the only thing I knew. I deleted each response and moved on. As more time passed, I’d accepted our fleeting friendship was over and patted myself on the back for at least trying. Some people just couldn’t be reached. He had his life, and I would continue on with mine.

  Then I bumped into him at the store and saw what was in his shopping cart.

  That one glance had crumbled every thought I’d painstakingly erected.

  Cooper was in desperate need of a friend.

  I just needed to be patient.

  “Looks perfect.” I smiled, determined to quit fiddling with things. We’d both given the house a quick cleaning, making sure all the main areas we’d be using tonight were tidy. Rebecca and I were naturally neat people, but we still
scrubbed, dusted, and vacuumed until everything seemed to sparkle. Chances were the guys wouldn’t even notice the effort we’d made.

  I’d know, though.

  “Did you ask if they had any allergies?” Rebecca asked as she followed me into the kitchen. My mouth was already watering, and the gentle waft of simmering pasta sauce did nothing to ease my growing appetite. After peering over the pot and stirring the ladle through the thick tomato mixture, she lifted the wooden spoon to her lips, softly blowing. “Do you think it needs more salt?”

  “Step away. Now!” I laughed, swiping the utensil from her hand. “It’s fine how it is, and I didn’t ask. If they can’t eat this, then we’ll go out to eat. It’s okay.”

  She wiped her hands down the side of her pants. “Sorry, I’m just nervous is all.”

  “And you’re making me more anxious in the process,” I retorted, smirking at her. “Do you need a brown paper bag or something? Seriously, everything’s going to be fine. Breathe.”

  Take your own advice, hypocrite.

  Leaning against the counter, Rebecca toyed with the remaining ingredients for the salad. “So, did you ever find out what happened that night?” She said it so nonchalantly, popping a piece of cucumber into her mouth.

  “Nope,” I answered, checking on the garlic bread cooking in the oven. Everything was almost ready. All we needed were our guests of honor. Glancing at the clock, Cooper and Marty were due any moment now.

  “Are you going to ask him?” Rebecca was relentless.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I wiped my hands with the clean dishtowel, tossing it onto the counter when I was done. I’d asked myself this over and over since last night.

  “Surely he’s expecting it to come up, right? I mean, he has to know he screwed up. You have to talk about it.”

  “Cooper’s different, Rebecca.” It felt like an excuse, but it wasn’t. If he was anything like Owen, he couldn’t be rushed. Any kind of force, and he’d clam up.

  That didn’t mean I didn’t deserve some kind of answer, however. I did. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.

  “Well, I’ll make sure to give you two some alone time.” Winking, she didn’t give me a chance to amend her comment. “And by that, I mean, I’m hoping a certain tattooed guitarist is my dessert tonight.” When she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, I burst into laughter.

  “Do I need to find somewhere else to sleep?”

  “Hmmm, I wouldn’t go that far, but I’d definitely wear ear plugs if I was you.”

  The doorbell rang, causing us both to jump like we’d been caught doing something naughty.

  “Show time,” Rebecca clapped, excitement filling her eyes.

  “Show time,” I murmured, heading toward the front of the house to answer the door.

  The butterflies swarming in my stomach offset a jittery sensation, one that was part anticipation for the evening, another part worry. I wanted everything to go smoothly. There was no room for extra drama in my life.

  That last thought evaporated the instant I saw Cooper standing with a hesitant look on his face, Marty grinning behind him. “Sorry we’re late,” he apologized, looking down at his feet before holding my gaze. He was just as uncertain as I was. For the shortest of seconds, hope also glimmered in his eyes.

  I finally took in a deep breath.

  This was a good thing.

  “No, you’re right on time. Dinner’s almost ready. I hope you’re both hungry. We kind of went a little overboard.”

  “Then lead the way, Caylee,” Marty interrupted, brushing past Cooper. “Who am I to ignore the call of food?” Watching him walking away with Rebecca toward the kitchen, there was no doubt what he was really here for. Men didn’t hide their feelings the way women did.

  Correction—not all men.

  Cooper gave me the impression he was a master at putting on a front.

  “I figured that wine would be a good addition to whatever you’ve cooked. Save the harder stuff for another time,” Cooper chuckled, showing me the bottle in his hand. “I’m not much of a wine drinker, but the label looked cool enough.” Shrugging, he added one more thing. “At least it’s not in a box, right?”

  Accepting his contribution, I grinned. He couldn’t have picked a more fitting blend. “Educated Guess. Rebecca and I have been meaning to try this, but we keep forgetting.” My finger traced over the black label, recognizing the equations written in white from old chemistry classes. Whoever had designed it was a genius. It looked just like a chalkboard inside a scientist’s laboratory or office.

  “When I saw it, I figured it was the best choice considering Marty and I are eating with beautiful university scholars.” The moment he finished, Cooper cringed slightly. If I could venture a guess, he hadn’t meant to add the “beautiful” to his comment.

  Acting as though it hadn’t made my stomach dip hearing it, I ushered him completely inside. “Then come on in and let’s open it up.”

  ****

  “Anyone want to take an ‘educated guess’ on what this will taste like?” It was safe to say everyone rolled their eyes over my cheesy question, the play on words blatantly obvious.

  “Grapes.” Cooper answered, swirling the Cabernet carefully around in his glass. We’d all just sat down to eat, and Rebecca was pouring the wine.

  “Ass?” Marty shrugged, smiling his thanks as she brushed past him. Cooper reached over and slapped his friend on the back of his head. “What? Someone had to be thinking it.”

  “I can think of other ways to say it, though, idiot.”

  Luckily, I’d swallowed the mouthful of food I’d been chewing on, or I’d have choked. “I hope it doesn’t taste like that. That’s a waste of good money.” I couldn’t count how many times Rebecca and I had been excited to try something new, only to discover our dishwater had better flavor.

  “It’s a crime against humanity,” my roommate added, taking a seat at the table and raising her glass into the air. “Here’s to what I hope is the first of many evenings.”

  Everyone murmured in agreement, and I took a tentative sip. Delicious.

  “Oh my gosh. It’s like a freaking fruity orgasm for your mouth,” Rebecca exclaimed. In the process of drinking, her enthusiasm caught Marty by surprise and red liquid sprayed everywhere.

  “Shit,” he stammered, quickly wiping his mouth before mopping his mess up.

  “Damn, man. Way to make an impression.” Cooper chuckled, tossing him his napkin. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

  “I should’ve warned you,” I countered, already standing to help. “I’m used to Rebecca and her surprise outbursts.”

  “Hey, I was just being truthful,” she pouted, pretending to be offended. “Can’t blame a girl for being honest.”

  The look that surfaced over Marty’s face as he stopped momentarily told me the next thing out of his mouth would be highly sexual. Cooper must’ve recognized it as well, coughing loudly and speaking up before his friend could. “Sorry about your table cloth. I’ll replace it.” For good measure, he shot a warning scowl at Marty.

  Whatever he was going to say was forgotten as a new expression skittered across his features. “No, it was my fault. Well, technically, it was Rebecca’s fault, but still. I’m sorry, Caylee. I hope it wasn’t some kind of family heirloom I just ruined.” He gave the cream-colored crochet spread one last wipe before realizing he was merely smearing the remaining wine, making the stain worse.

  With a straight face, I let out a heavy sigh. “It was, actually. My great-great-great grandmother brought it over from Europe when she migrated to America with her husband, and it’s been handed down from mother to daughter. I wanted something special tonight and thought this would be a nice touch.” To drive the point home, I stared at the damage forlornly. “I’m sure I can get the red out.”

  The room fell silent as all eyes were on me. It was Rebecca that finally broke. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!!”

  Her accusation made me blush. Biting on my lip to curb
my laughter, I tried to feign innocence. “Am not!”

  “You so are!” It became a showdown across the table. Poor Cooper and Marty sat quietly, waiting for an explanation. When I didn’t offer it up, Rebecca exposed my good-natured teasing. “We got it at a yard sale last week. It cost us a dollar, and we have absolutely no sentimental connection to it.”

  “Caylee?” Cooper’s eyes were wide. He’d totally believed me.

  “What?” I shrugged, taking a mouthful of wine. “You have to admit, he walked into that one.”

  “You wound me,” Marty moaned, dramatically dropping into his seat with his hand over his heart.

  Cooper smirked. “Admit it, you deserved it.”

  “Still. Give a man a heart attack. I was waiting for the tears and wailing.”

  Rebecca glanced at me, mouthing the word wailing. I wasn’t sure what kind of females he thought we were, but we weren’t that type. Shaking his head with relief that we hadn’t inconvenienced him with our feminine theatrics, Marty picked up his fork. “Can we eat now? Put this behind us?”

  “Absolutely,” I answered.

  “Is it just me, or does anyone else want to give him a bib? Maybe the one my ancestor knitted on the Mayflower?” Rebecca asked sweetly.

  This time I did choke.

  So did Cooper.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Marty growled, cramming an overloaded forkful of pasta and meatballs into his mouth.

  Beaming at him, Rebecca took another sip of her wine before eating. She definitely looked like the cat that ate the canary, all smug in her seat. “I thought so.” With a quick glance at Marty, I saw their interaction for what it was—foreplay. They were both enjoying the bantering back and forth. It was almost as if Cooper and I were simply along as chaperones.

  “Kids,” Cooper exhaled, rolling his eyes. “I guess next time I’ll leave mine at home.”

  Hearing him say next time made my insides warm. I wasn’t drunk enough for me to blame it on the wine.