Archer

by Haley Jenner

  Strong hands cage my wrists in and my heads falls to his chest. I struggle to pull in oxygen as sobs break from my throat. I feel his breath at my ear before I hear his words. “Belle, Baby, I’ve got nothing left inside. Don’t die alongside me, baby. Please don’t do that to me. I couldn’t handle that. You’re right, I’m a fucking coward but I’m begging,” he stresses, “please don’t do that to me. You’re better than that, better than this. Better than me.”

  Raising my head, I meet his eyes and I'm shocked that all these years later, he’s chosen to use my own words against me. My head shakes as a sarcastic laugh breaks from my lips. “Look at me, Archer,” I lift my hands in defeat, drawing attention to the complete mess that is me; blotchy skin from crying, puffy eyes, tear stained face. “I’m already fucking dead inside. You’ve killed everything I had in me”.

  I move to stand on tiptoes so he can hear my next words clearly and putting my lips close to his ear I lower my voice to a whisper as I speak. “Fuck you, Archer Dean. Fuck you for taking everything I had to give and throwing it away like it meant nothing. Fuck. You. For making me believe you were better than you are. You are nothing and I fucking hate you.”

  Leaning back, I look into his eyes and see my words have cut the way I needed and that I’ve succeeded in my task. Although his mask is tightly in place, I know him. I can see it in the way his eyes burn into mine with a sadness mirroring my own, the way his breaths come fast and even, and the way his fists are clenched at his side. I, Annabelle Edwards have succeeded in breaking Archer Dean’s heart. Strangely, I don't feel relief, the burn of my heartbreak only magnified.

  My pace is fast as I leave the bar, head down, trying to catch my breath, keep my tears at bay until I break through the door and straight into Jake’s chest. His want to comfort me is clear on his face and pulling me into a tight embrace, he holds me as I let myself really cry. After a few minutes Jake walks me to my car and drives me home slowly, holding my hand the entire way, offering comfort in the only way he knows how. Sadness radiates from him as his concerned eyes flick between me and the road. Jake knows this is as much goodbye for us as it is for me and Archer. We’ll talk sure, but Jake knows I won’t come back. I can’t. Carnation will cease to exist. It has too. The hope that I could come back would only ever cause further damage. Hope is something I let fuel me for too long. The one thing that I can attribute my heartbreak to. Without hope I would’ve accepted Archer as the broken soul he was and left with a little bit of me still left inside. Even before, hope was what gave me Archer to begin with. The hope of what our attraction could mean. I should’ve ignored it all. Right from the start, from the moment I saw him in Janie’s kitchen again. Maybe even at Josh’s funeral. I should’ve known better. Any hope that I may’ve let myself cling to in allowing me to believe that I could ever return to my home is gone. Tossed aside like my heart.

  Jake sits solemnly on my bed as I pack my things. "You don't have to leave you know," he softly argues, but there is no fight in his words, only regret.

  I offer him a sad smile as I close my bag. "Yeah Jakey, I do. I can't be here anymore. It hurts too much."

  He nods softly in understanding. "I hate him,” he declares. “I hate that he came back and has done nothing but hurt everyone that loves him. I wish he would go. I need you, Annabelle, you're my best friend," he finishes on a soft whisper.

  Tears leak from my eyes as I hug him fiercely. "I love you, Jakey. You're my best friend and I’m here whenever you need me. I'm just a phone call away."

  When we reach my car, he bends to plant a soft kiss on my lips and watches as I climb in my car. "Don't hate him. He needs you, whether he cares to admit it or not. He'll never survive if he has no one fighting for him. He needs people on his side, babe." I blow him a kiss as I pull from the house and drive away from the only home I’ve ever known.

  I don’t ring Aubrey to let her know I’m coming. I just drive. Sometimes my grief hits me and it feels like a gunshot wound to the chest. I struggle to breathe through each and every hit and I have to pull over. These are the moments I let myself cry. Archer was my forever. What will my life look like without him? Even with the emotional distance, physically he was there. I still saw him each day, granted, he was mostly drunk or hung-over, but there were moments…. moments when I saw my Archer. I would catch him watching me and for a split second when our eyes would meet, his would be filled with love, with need, but there was also a sadness to them that I couldn’t erase for him. No matter how hard I tried.

  Doubt creeps into my mind as I drive. Thoughts of whether I did enough plague me; should I have left, or stayed, fought harder? Realization that he didn't love me enough to try feels like another gunshot. It burns to know that what we had wasn't enough for him. I loved, love him with everything I have inside, he owns me still - mind, body, soul and heart. It all belongs to him.

  Travelling farther away from him feels wrong and I begin to lose more and more of myself the closer I get to Bellingham. At times, guilt sets in. How selfish am I to relate this back to me? How can I be so self-absorbed to think that I could be enough to save him from the emptiness, from the grief that lives inside of him now? From the evil that he sees constantly, that wakes him at night. Who I am to think that I would ever be enough to make him want to live again? I hate this version of me. Insecure. Broken. Unsure. Lost.

  I know grief, it's sat by my side as long as I can remember. I'm used to loss. How sad is that? Yet, here I am, a shell, completely and utterly broken because of a man. From a broken heart. I am such a stupid fucking idiot.

  A drive that should take just over an hour, takes me three. I've stopped countless times but the hole in my chest is still wide open, bleeding, when I pull up outside Aubrey's. The street is darkened, lightened only by street lamps. It's 11:14pm.

  I seem to stare at the front door for an eternity, knowing that when my feet cross the threshold that I’ve officially left my life in Carnation behind. That I’m admitting that I’ve failed. That my relationship is over. That Archer Dean is no longer a part of my life. I must lift my hand to knock a dozen times before my fist finally meets the hard wood on a soft touch. The porch light clicks on almost immediately and my eyes sting at the invasion of brightness, adjusting as the door opens to the curious gaze of David. His gaze immediately turns to shock at my presence. "Annabelle."

  I burst into tears at his voice - big, fat ugly tears and I can't control the rough sobs that break through my throat. "Umm….," he stutters awkwardly as I move forward and into his chest. He pats my back uncomfortably, but doesn’t push my away, letting my fall apart.

  "David?" Aubrey's voice, heavy with sleep, breaks over my tears and I lift my head to see her walk into the room. Completely naked. "Annabelle?" her voice turns to panic as she begins running towards me, stopping herself quickly. "Just let me put a robe on so you don't have to put your face in my tits."

  I laugh, but it’s a sad sound, making me cry harder. Aubrey is back within seconds, pulling me from a grateful David and into a fierce hug. "Babe, you left?" Her question is loaded with shock.

  "He made me…. he…. he doesn't want me anymore," I hiccup into her neck as the ugly tears begin to flow again and much like David, Aubrey lets me fall apart in her arms. She steers me towards her guest bedroom as my breathing begins to settle. Laying on the bed, my back to her chest as she continues to hold me close, holding my hand tightly.

  "We'll talk when you're ready, just get some sleep babe. I can’t believe you drove like this. I’m mad at you for that but that’s not important right now. All that matters, is that you know I’m here. I'm here" she whispers. Repeating her words quietly, over and over, eventually lulling me into a deep sleep.

  My head feels groggy as I stir and for a split second I forget where I am, what happened and my chest doesn't ache. I try to hold this feeling for as long as possible, but memories sink in. I replay every moment, every wound and I rub my chest to relieve the pain. I will myself to feel nothing, to
push everything back and let the numbness overtake my body, my mind. I stare ahead, seeing nothing as I listen to David and Aubrey whisper outside the door.

  "Did she say anything to you when she came in?"

  "Nothing. I saw her and she lost it," David answers on a whisper.

  Aubrey is silent a few beats before she speaks. "He's been trying to push her away for months, I guess it finally worked, just broke her in the process. I wanna fucking kill him," her voice cracks, the sound of her heart breaking for me cutting deep.

  She walks into the room quietly, trying not to wake me. I could feign sleep but I actually don’t have the energy. "Babe, you're awake," Aubrey sits on the bed and holds my hand in her own.

  "Unfortunately." My throat is raw from crying and my voice sounds cracked, mirroring how I feel. "I'm not ready to talk, Aubrey, let me be numb for a little bit longer yeah?"

  "Of course, babe, you need anything?" she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

  "I just wanna be alone right now," I whisper and she nods her head softly before kissing my forehead and leaving the room as quietly as she came.

  "Annabelle, babe, Darci’s here,” Aubrey announces, her hand resting softly on my back.

  Crawling onto the bed, Darci cuddles in close, pulling me into her arms and holding me tightly. “Hey you.”

  My breath stutters once again and I’m mad that I still have tears. The past few days have been a constant stream, surely they’re done. Surely there shouldn’t be any left, but tucking my face into Darci’s shoulder they flow freely again. Much like Aubrey, she lets me cry, rubbing her small hand up and down my back. Wetness meets my forehead and pulling back, Darci frowns apologetically, removing her glasses to wipe her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, Annabelle. I don’t even know what to say, what to do. My heart hurts for you,” she cries softly.

  “This is good,” I offer, dropping my face back down and settling into her warmth. No other words are exchanged, Darci lying with me until I fall asleep. She’s gone when I wake, Aubrey in her place. Much like every other day, Aubrey offers the same comfort Darci had, cuddled in close, silence circling us in a bubble of sadness.

  "Babe, you need to get up. It's been 5 days; you've barely eaten or drunk anything. You haven't spoken, I’m really worried, Annabelle,” Aubrey pleads, but I ignore her, staring blankly ahead. Watching me for a beat, for a response that never comes, Aubrey sighs loudly. “Now, while I love you, you do need to shower. You’re starting to smell," she attempts to joke, trying a different tactic, but she can’t even muster a laugh herself, her humor falling flat.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Annabelle

  It takes me a week. 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes to pull myself out of bed. I'm unsteady on my feet, weak from lack of use and limited sustenance. The hot water feels like heaven on my skin as I shower and I wash my body with more force than necessary trying to scrub the misery from my skin. By the time I’ve finished my skin is red and over-sensitive from the pressure. When I'm dressed, I know I've avoided long enough and finally make my way down the hall and set myself at the heightened table in Aubrey’s kitchen.

  No words exchanged as Aubrey sits a cup of tea and a piece of toast in front of me. "Eat." It's not a request and I narrow my eyes at her. My stomach growls in hunger and her eyebrows rise in victory, earning her an eye roll, which she rewards with a large smile. I feel nauseated as I chew but I stomach three-quarters of a piece before I push it away and warm my hands around my mug.

  "Thanks for letting me squat in your guest room," I start. "I'll find my own -"

  "You absolutely will not, this is your home now, babe."

  Fresh tears form in my eyes, thank you, I mouth and she smiles in reassurance. “Where’s David?”

  Shrugging off-handedly she sighs. “Work. Where he always is. Listen, I called Jake, to let him know you arrived safe," she pauses until I meet her eyes before continuing. "He's worried about you. You should call him." I nod in agreement and her shoulders relax slightly.

  Taking a deep breath, her voice is barely audible when she adds, "He spent the first few nights you were gone in lock up, babe. Jake said he went crazy." I hold the bridge of my nose fighting the emotion as I shake my head vigorously, silently telling her to stop.

  She does, waiting patiently for me to speak; she knows bits and pieces of what’s been happening so I fill her in about the few days leading up to me leaving.

  I tell her about the day he told me to leave, when he told me he would break my heart if he had to, but begged me not to make him. How I pathetically begged him not to give up on me, on us. How I cried and told him I loved him, that I was nothing without him. How he walked past me and out of our home without a second glance. How the anger hit after I finally pulled myself together. I tell her about the bar, my humiliation, how he let Bartie touch him and how his heart seemed just as broken as mine.

  "He fucked me the night before….it was intense, soft, like we were making love, reconnecting,” I smile sadly. “He hasn't touched me in months, so I let it happen. It was heartbreaking, Aubrey; I hadn’t felt connected to him in so long. But I get it now, he was saying goodbye.”

  “It may be totally insensitive of me to even bring up, but what’s happening with the house?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. He had a bag packed when he left. I think he hated being there as much as I did in the end. It was like an endless assault of memories.”

  I think about my childhood home and my heart aches heavily. “I guess it’s another thing to add to the list of things Archer has taken from me. I can’t go back there. Not after this. Eventually we’ll sell it, I assume. But right now, I can’t even think about that. That would mean having to deal with him and I can’t even…” I don’t bother finishing my sentence, massaging the bridge of my nose.

  “Jake used to crash there on nights he had gigs, so he wouldn’t wake Janie, or when he wanted to practice, so he didn’t disturb her. I’ll ask him to keep doing that, that way it’s not empty all the time.”

  Aubrey blinks away tears as she moves to hug me and I take comfort in her affection. I want to cry, but I can't, instead my head rests on her shoulder as I remain comfortably frozen in my state of numbness.

  My days continue to pass this way, I wake every morning and will myself to push everything back, to let the numbness take me over, and force myself feel nothing. I hate waking up, I’m allowed a split second of oblivion before I have to work at pushing it away again. Sleeping is virtually impossible; my loneliness consumes me and I struggle to find sleep when I’m working so hard not to think. I wake exhausted every morning and sleep restlessly every night. Constantly reaching out to touch him, to feel him next to me, only to find the bed cold and lonely.

  Week two I leave the house and this day marks as one of my lowest. I sit in the waiting room of a Doctor’s office surrounded by families and nervously massage my hands as I wait. Finally, I’m called in and Doctor Robin, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes watches me expectantly, waiting patiently as we sit in her office. I must stare at her for an eternity before she prompts me again. “Annabelle, are you okay?”

  “I need an STD check,” I blurt and swallowing deeply, I close my eyes at my outburst. “Sorry,” I whisper, opening my eyes as my cheeks shade in embarrassment.

  She talks me through the process before asking about my lifestyle, my sexual history. “How many sexual partners have you had?”

  “Two,” I cough out. “Just two. I was checked prior to starting my last relationship. It’s just ended, we were together for a few years and while I was faithful, I’m…. I’m not quite sure how many partners he had throughout …” I don’t bother finishing my sentence, my lips twisting into an awkward smile.

  “Okay,” Dr. Robin nods in understanding, touching my hand in reassurance. “How are you handling things since the breakup; sleeping, eating, socializing?”

  I tell her that finding sleep is hard but my appetite is slowly ret
urning. This is a lie; stomaching food makes me want to gag. I explain that considering our relationship only just ended, socializing hasn’t been high on my agenda.

  “Annabelle, you need to get out and I don’t mean necessarily mean socializing. You’ll find it’ll help just to get some fresh air. Set some sort of routine for yourself.”

  We complete the necessary tests and I schedule a follow up appointment for my results. Leaving her office, I return to my car and stay there. I’m nauseated, breathing deep to control the need to be sick. I'm humiliated and I hate him for making that necessary for me.

  You're hysterical, it's pathetic.

  His words invade my conscious and I will myself to hold onto that hate.

  Because you're too far away. Because I want to touch you, want you to touch me. And because I want to be able to kiss you when I want.

  I shut my eyes tightly against the sting his words force upon me. God, I miss him. He was right, I am fucking pathetic, crying over a man who clearly doesn't want me, one who is solely responsible for the position I’m in right now. Drying my eyes, I start my car and drive back to Aubrey’s, feeling lower than I have since he first told me he was done.

  I continue to wallow. I don't take Dr. Robin's advice. I don't go out. I sleep poorly and like every day since leaving Carnation, I dread waking up. I barely eat and spend every minute of every day missing him beyond measure. I torture myself by letting my mind wonder if it’s the same for him, if the separation causes him such pain, or if it’s just me.

  I cancel my follow up appointment with Dr. Robin three times before I can bring myself to see her again. To finally face any consequences that may be lumped upon me because of Archer.

  "All clean," she begins as soon as we’ve settled into her office and I relax slightly, the tension from the past few weeks somewhat subsiding. "I thought I would jump straight into it, seeing as you have avoided for long enough," she continues. “I’d ask if everything’s been okay but I assume your avoidance is just that and nothing more.”