by Blair Holden
“I’ll go and check up on her. Get some sleep, Trav, you look really tired.”
He does. There’s two-day-old stubble on his face and there are hollows between his eyes. He’s two seconds away from dropping dead and I feel guilty. Between school, homework, and Cole I’ve been leaving him with Beth for way too long. I try telling him that I can watch over Beth for some time so that I can let him get some sleep but I doubt he’ll go to bed voluntarily. “I’m fine,” he says, but even as he says that a yawn escapes him.
I push at his shoulder. “Go to bed. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”
He winces. “I know you will, Tess. She’s your best friend first and my . . . whatever she is later. You can’t be comfortable with this situation, can you?”
I shrug and pretend to think about my answer for a while, just to mess with him. He’s watching me attentively, like my answer has a kind of life-or-death importance. It’s sweet that he cares so much. Not all boys are giant douche sickles.
Then I nudge him with my elbow and grin at him; he sags on the back of the futon in relief. “I’m really glad she has you. Whatever kind of relationship you guys have, I’m happy that you’re in each other’s lives. You’ll be good for her and when she’s back to who she is she’ll be really good for you. Now go sleep before I have to sedate you.”
Smiling, he gets up. Leaning over me he ruffles my hair and kisses the top of my head. Walking backward toward the stairs he says, “I’m here for you too, you know, so if you want to talk about whatever Stone’s done to get you all riled up my door’s always open.”
“Yes, Yoda brother, I will seek you out when I need to.”
“You think Yoda stops teaching just because his student does not want to hear?” my goofball brother says in his infamous Star Wars imitation. I chuck a cushion at him and he ducks, chuckling all the way to his room.
Then I go up to check up on Beth, who’s staying in the guest bedroom. All her stuff is still in boxes and Megan and I have only unpacked the essentials. She doesn’t move from her position on the bed except to use the bathroom or to eat the little she does. She’s lying like she always does, on her side facing the window and staring out into the distance, her face expressionless. Her body’s curled with her legs tucked in toward her chin and her head’s resting on her folded hands. She looks like a fragile, lost child and it breaks me.
“Hey,” I say softly and she acknowledges my presence with a glance in my direction and then goes back to staring out the window.
She doesn’t talk much or at all. All we can do is tiptoe around her, waiting for the moment when she’s ready to deal with what happened. Right now she’s coping by shutting everything and everyone out. It’s how she’s protecting herself but damn it, it hurts to see her like this.
I lean against the door and rack my mind for something trivial to talk about. I should tell her what an asshat my boyfriend is but I don’t think she’d appreciate my whining right now.
“Mr. Vaughn brought that horrible algebra test back, you know the one we took last year? Do you remember how bad it was and how we wanted to stuff Megan in the trunk of her car because she couldn’t stop crying over how she got one question wrong?”
No response, nothing.
“And the cafeteria lady’s been trying to sell us that casserole again, the one in which someone found a fake tooth? I’ve never been more grateful for vending machines in my life.” I persevere, not letting her silence get to me.
“Oh and I almost forgot, Megan spilled OJ all over one of Nicole’s ex-minions. It was hilarious, the girl was all over Alex and Megan got all up in her face and dumped the entire cup over her head.”
When I’m met with more silence, I give up since it hurts too much to stand here knowing I can’t do anything to lessen her pain. She’s always been there for me, always been so strong and it’s shameful that I can’t be there for her when she needs me the most. I place the plate of food in my hand on the nightstand, hoping she’ll nibble on something and then leave, closing the door quietly behind me.
***
After ending a call with Megan and telling her all about the progress with Beth for the day, I pick up my Kindle and hope that a good book will give me some peace. Cole hasn’t called or texted me, nor have I reached out to him. He’s the one who should be apologizing, not me. His verbal attack was completely uncalled for and there’s no way I’m breaking down and calling him until he says he’s sorry and that he was wrong. But God, I miss him. I miss hearing his voice right before I go to bed. I miss the stupid things he says to make me laugh. I miss talking to him about Beth and hearing him tell me that everything’s going to be okay. Then just as I am a second away from grabbing my phone and calling him, it buzzes, letting me know that I have a text. I reach for it, my heart thudding violently, but then the disappointment is just as crushing. It’s completely the wrong person that’s texting me. I don’t want him to text me!
Jay: Cole’s in a mood. You guys have a fight?
Yes, you ignorant idiot, we had a fight. It was about you, now go hide before I stab you where it’ll really hurt. I toss my phone aside, not bothering with a reply.
Trying to lose myself in a cheery, lighthearted romance is difficult given my current situation so I switch over to a sci-fi where everyone dies. Yup, that’s much better. Doom, death, and despair is much more my cup of tea at the moment. My eyes are drooping and the Kindle begins slipping from my hands when there’s a knock on my door. My first thought is Beth and that she better be okay. Praying silently, I rush to the door throwing it open but it’s not Beth.
“What are you doing here?”
He looks bewildered for a moment or two before his eyes dart toward my braless chest clad in—ironically enough—one of his T-shirts. Of course he’d come when I was in my pajamas and completely vulnerable to his gaze. I cross my arms in front of my chest and wish my short shorts would automatically elongate themselves.
“I want my shirt back,” he says defiantly but then I notice how he’s swaying on his feet. I step closer and the stench of alcohol becomes stronger. Fantastic.
“You’re drunk,” I state and he does a comical mixture of both nodding and shaking his head. “Shirt,” he says again. The swaying becomes worse and I realize that I need him to lie down before he injures himself.
“I’m not taking my shirt off, Cole, now come in.”
I support his huge body the best I can into my room and toward my bed. He’s mumbling incoherently under his breath all the while but doesn’t struggle against my hold. Finally, after the kind of workout that should make up for a month at the gym, I push him so that he plops down on my bed.
Placing my hands on my waist, I give him my most disapproving look. It’s hard though, especially when he’s looking this vulnerable and lost.
“How much did you drink?”
He squeezes his thumb and index finger together leaving about an inch of space between them but then reconsiders his answer. He spreads his arms apart, looking pretty pleased with himself. “This much.”
Holy Batman. Did he just raid Charlie Sheen’s liquor cabinet?
I begin pulling off his shoes and pull the covers over him. There’s no way he’s going home tonight.
“Why?” I ask as he begins humming the national anthem.
“Because you like him better. You’ll always like him better,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing, halting my movements.
My heart breaks on the spot. Is he still worried that I could have a thing for Jay? I think about all the time we’ve spent together and wonder if I’ve not shown him enough what I feel for him. The feelings I have for him trample all over the ones I have for Jay. They’re nothing alike in any way whatsoever. But he’s still conscious of it and that makes me feel inexcusably guilty. This boy has changed my life and I’m too much of a coward to tell him that I love him. That I’m in love with him.
“You’re wrong,” I whisper softly but he’s already passed out
by this point.
I sigh and crawl into bed next to him, draping myself all over his chest and swinging my legs over both of his. My arms go around him, holding him closer, and I breathe the scent of his shirt. It’s only slightly marred by vodka but it’s still him.
Tomorrow, I clear all his misconceptions.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: You’re as Lickable as Your Ice Cream Namesake
He’s gone.
I know this even before I open my eyes and face what has suddenly become a horrible day. We all have the basic senses, right? Sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing. While these five things continue to fail me on a daily basis, I’ve developed a new sense that has yet to disappoint. It’s the Cole sensor.
When he’s nearby there’s a hum of electricity in the air. My nerves are on high alert and whether or not I choose to acknowledge it, a part of me knows that he’s there. Every single bit that I consist of is attuned to his presence. The Cole sensor is as freaky as it is a godsend. It gives you the kind of thrill you get when the roller coaster suddenly dips, the feeling that can only truly be matched by free fall. And right now, I’m horribly attached to solid ground.
I pat the space next to me, refusing to acknowledge something I already know. He left. He came brokenhearted and trashed out of his mind yesterday and slept with me in his arms and now he’s gone. I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling, blinking back tears. It’s not hard to convince myself that I’m just being melodramatic. It’s not like we had this major relationship-breaking argument, it was just a minor misunderstanding which needs to be cleared immediately.
The thought forces me out of bed, thus preventing me from moping around all day, eating my weight in ice cream. Old Tessa would have no problem doing that since it was the norm for her. But I’m so sick of being the helpless little girl who always needs to be rescued. How many times has Cole put himself out there for me? How many times has he braved his fears and been honest? So yes, it’s the least I could do for him.
A sort of determination leads me through the process of getting ready. I blaze through getting ready, hoping that my eyes aren’t still red rimmed. Before leaving, I check on Beth. She’s asleep but what’s surprising is the fact that Travis is in the bed with her. He’s been sleeping in his own room because Beth wouldn’t let any one of us stay with her but that seems to have changed now. I smile as I watch them. Both are on their sides, facing each other. Their hands are joined, between their two bodies, and it’s like they fell asleep just talking and holding hands. I suddenly miss Cole so much that it’s staggering.
Not even bothering with breakfast, I fly down the stairs and rush outside my house. The five-minute walk seems like eternity but I finally make it. Huffing and completely out of breath since I ran all the while, I ring the doorbell. I have just enough time to stop looking like a panting dog before the door opens. I try to hide the disappointment when I see Cassandra. It’s okay, I tell myself. Cole must be asleep or trying to get rid of the hangover from hell right now. He won’t be waiting for me, dying to open the door when I show up.
“Hey, honey. Come on in.” Cassandra smiles at me kindly and lets me in. Taking me by surprise, she engulfs me in a warm hug and I hug her back. She’s been such a rock for me lately. Not just me, in fact. She’s helped Beth in whatever way she could. The hospital is such a blur to all of us but I remember her taking care of Beth and allowing her to deal with her grief while understanding that she couldn’t have done anything to help Marie.
So it’s good to be here with her, letting her comfort me. I think about my own mom, who’s reportedly shacking up with a guy Travis’s age. It hurts, of course it does. I’ve seen her gradually become someone I could never respect. She went from being a great mom to a good, partially there listener to a stranger. I have Travis now, family-wise that’s all I could ask for. Dad’s changing or trying to change. He’s been more attentive, more caring, but that still can’t make up for the years of neglect or how his job destroyed our family.
We sit down on the living room couch and my eyes wander around the room of their own accord. The Cole sensor isn’t blaring out and I know even before she tells me that he’s not around. My heart sinks, stomach turns, eyes water.
“I take it you two had a fight?”
She clasps my hands in hers but I can’t meet her gaze. I feel gutted, like things are spiraling out of control and I don’t have a way to stop them from doing so.
“Not a fight . . . he just misunderstood something that happened and he didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
She sighs. “I would have stopped him if I knew he was running away from his problems again. I’m sorry, Tessa, but he left an hour ago with an overnight bag. All I got was a note on the fridge. If it makes you feel better he said he would be back tomorrow.”
No, it doesn’t make me feel better. Cole has a full twenty-four hours for him to convince himself that I’m in love with Jason—the source of all my problems—Stone. If it weren’t for the love and respect I have for the woman sitting next to me I’d take a cleaver to her son’s head.
In a sort of a daze I walk out of the Stones’ house, all my earlier determination having dissipated. The world around us has always caused problems but Cole and I have always been okay with each other. That’s what makes being with him so perfect. He’s always there for me, always. To know that he’s hurt because of me and that he’s mad at me crushes me in the worst kind of way. A guy like him comes only once in a lifetime, I know that. I’ve seen more than my share of dysfunctional relationships. I’ve seen men cheat, get drunk, and even abuse their partners. High school kind of makes you immune to the idea of love and commitment, but Cole changed that.
And now he’s gone.
I pick up my phone and despite the small voice inside my head asking me to give him some space, I text Cole. I text him the one phrase that I know will get his attention. We have it for emergencies and this qualifies as an emergency. I’m losing my mind here. For all I know he could’ve run into the waiting arms of Kimmy or Nicole or the other multitude of women just dying to sink their claws into him.
I need you.
I press Send without a second thought. The phone weighs a ton in my hands as I stare at the stupidly unchanging screen. He might not even have his phone on him. The battery could be dead, he could have dropped it, or there might be no reception in Kimmy’s evil lair. And then the most wonderful feeling in the world, my phone buzzes! I can hardly control the relief that courses through me. I can see the words, I don’t care if there are only three of them but they make my heart soar. It may be slightly pathetic of me but at least he cares.
Are you okay?
No.
What’s wrong?
Before I can formulate a reply, one which states that he’s breaking my heart in a less self-pitiful way, my phone starts ringing. The ringtone I’ve recently set for Cole, ‘The Only Exception” by Paramore, blares out as my shaking finger slides over the screen so that I can answer. We both speak at the same time.
“What’s going on?”
“Where are you?”
I repeat my question, “Where are you?”
“Tessie, just tell me, please. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Yes and yes to the last question,” I mumble and I hear him draw a heavy breath on the other side. I could just imagine him running his hands through his hair, tugging at it painfully.
“Don’t do this to me. What do you mean yes? Please tell me what’s going on,” he begs and for a second I feel cruel. He left me. He just up and left after last night, making me go through hell. I want to make him feel the worst. I want him to suffer but then again I’m so in love with him that the idea of hurting him is preposterous.
“You left. You didn’t even talk to me or let me explain. You just left.” I emphasize the last three words and hope he gets the importance of them. He knows I still struggle with my abandonment issues. If he still just up and left despite knowing that about me then h
e should feel guilty. I can’t possibly handle another person in my life deserting me because I wasn’t enough.
“Please, shortcake, don’t be angry . . . I just needed some space.”
“Space?” I nearly screech and it sounds hideous even to my own ears but now I’m just angry. The concept of “space” has been invented to get men to leave their relationships and do as they please. It’s just as bad as wanting a “break.” You’re basically in the same confused state, not knowing whether you are or are not in a relationship. The women sit at home by the phone, weeping and eating copious amounts of chocolate while the men sow their wild oats; they show these things on TV all the time.
“You needed space so you run? Did you not for a second think how much that would hurt me? I’ve been going out of my mind here. If you wanted to leave me you could’ve just said so.” My breathing’s hard and I’m fighting back sobs. I hate him, I love him but I hate him so much right now.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize what I’d done until I was too far away. I’m a dickhead, baby, but I’d never leave you.”
“Guess what? You already did. You couldn’t trust me enough to stay. You never gave me an opportunity to explain and that’s unfair, Cole.”
I hear the sound of traffic in the background so he must be talking while driving. It’s dangerous, especially for someone who’s hungover. We can’t have this conversation over the phone and I don’t want him to get hurt.
“I was wrong; I shouldn’t have left like that. Just listen to me, Tessie, I . . .”
“You should focus on the road. We’ll talk later.”
“No, you’re not hanging up on me. We have to talk about this. I’m sorry, okay, I’m so damn sorry.”
“Bye Cole, drive safe.”
I end the call and toss the phone aside. It rings and rings again but I let it go to voice mail. So the driving thing is partly why I don’t want to talk to him. What he said about space hit a nerve. I’d been told that before. When my best friend decided I wasn’t good enough to hang out with anymore, she told me she needed space and look how well that turned out.
