One Song Away

by Molli Moran

  “What?” Mama almost drops her glass.

  “Not at first,” I say quickly. I tell them the whole sordid story as succinctly as I can. I leave out some of the details, but give them the gist. When I’m done, I chance a look at my mom and sister. Mama looks thunderstruck. Cassidy is frozen, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes are wide. I’ve shocked her. She’s probably ready to take back everything she said about me earlier. Clearly, neither of them knows what to say.

  “I was in love with him when we were teenagers.” I blow out a breath, but neither of them seems surprised by my admission. “And I don’t know why I thought it would be any different now. Maybe I figured I’m an adult, and I wouldn’t fall for him…but I did. I just…I thought with him, it would be easy. Y’all would approve of him, and…of me.”

  That day in Freshly Ground seems so long ago, but it’s only been a few months. In that time, I’ve made friends, worked and supported myself while living on my own, written songs, and fallen in love. I let someone break my heart. And I’ve also started to really see who I am and that I don’t have to let that heartbreak define me. I let my love for Jake define me for so long, but getting over him doesn’t have to. Doesn’t get to.

  “Anyway, last night we talked, and the things he said made it seem like we were really together.” I lose the battle with the tears finally. “I decided to confess. I told him I loved him. I told him I’d always loved him, but that this time felt more real, more mature. And he…” My voice is a wobbling mess I don’t know how to fix. “He just didn’t say anything. At all. Just nothing. So, I left.”

  For a few seconds, I cry quietly. I’ve cried loudly during the last week. I’ve sobbed. Screamed. Broken things. Now, I don’t have any rage or any noise left. Just silence. And I’d rather have the noise. It’s a blanket. It’s a comfort. It blocks out the humiliation and the fear, and everything else I’ve barricaded myself from. I know I’m going to be okay, but the silence makes me panic about just how I’ll get there.

  Then I feel Mama’s arms around me, followed by Cassidy’s. The noise rushes back in, and it’s so loud. Cassidy’s sniffle sounds like thunder. My breathing sounds like a scream.

  “I love him,” I say. “And he doesn’t love me. My whole life, I’ve loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to love me. How do I just let go of all that? Of him?” I feel like a thousand broken pieces scraping against one another.

  Mama kisses my cheek, her perfume surrounding me. “It won’t be easy, but you’ll do it day by day. And we’ll be here for you every step of the way.” Her arms tighten. “And my darlin’, you need to know I have always been proud of you. Always.”

  “Me too.” Cassidy squeezes both of us, sniffling as she does.

  Somehow, I find the strength to believe them.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My apartment is full of sound. Brenna and Cassidy have a karaoke machine they borrowed from work cranked up in the corner, and they’re singing something pop-ish and loud. They’ve been at it for about twenty minutes now. Brenna can sing. My little sister, much as I love her, is another story. Sloane has the blender going with another round of margaritas in the making. Mina is talking to me, but all I want to do right now is escape from it all. It’s too much. Too much noise, too many thoughts.

  I felt okay earlier today when I left Mama’s, but that was because my belly was full of good food, and I had stockpiled hugs so I could make it through the day. Somehow, I went to work and made it through my shift. Miraculously, I didn’t break down in public or make any orders wrong. The one time I made eye contact with Jake, I escaped to the bathroom before I lost my cool. Even then, I didn’t do more than let a few tears fall before I cleaned myself up, thanked God for waterproof mascara, and went back to work.

  I’m not at work now, though. I don’t have to paste a smile on my face. I don’t have to listen to customers telling me their life story because I asked if they wanted low-fat or regular milk. I don’t have to keep moving because I’m afraid of what will happen when I stop. I don’t have to pretend to be okay, and I don’t have to be strong.

  “I don’t even know if you’re listening to me,” Mina says. Wearily, I turn my head toward her. Whatever she sees in my expression must shock her, because she cringes, but she covers well.

  “What?” I try to put my mask back in place. If I’m scaring my friends without it, it must be worse than I thought. “I’m sorry, Mina.”

  She shakes her head. “No, SC, don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot recently.” Scooting closer to me on the couch, she grips my hand. “I was just bullshitting. But please don’t shut us out or think we can’t handle what you’re going through. We all have stories. We’ve all been hurt.” Ducking her head, she chases my gaze. “Maybe I can help you, or Sloane can, or Bren. We want to help.”

  Smiling is one of the most painful things I’ve done in a while, but I do it anyway. It’s small, and it hurts, but it’s real. “We all go through things, but I shouldn’t be a shitty friend. I’m listening now. And I won’t shut you guys out.” I wave a hand around the room, encompassing everything. “I agreed to this, didn’t I?”

  The sleepover was Cassidy’s idea. She sent me home from our mom’s house with orders to rest. I didn’t think I would, but the next thing I remember is waking about six hours later to a clean apartment and a fresh pot of coffee. I gave Cass a spare key a few weeks ago, and she put it to good use today. She did my dishes, swept my floors, sorted through my mail, and folded my laundry.

  The only thing she couldn’t do was put me back together.

  As I sipped my coffee and realized that my little sister is actually an angel in disguise, she informed me we were having a girls’ only sleepover. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I agreed. I’ve been “on” all day, but tonight is different. I’m not afraid to be alone. I’ve been there and I’ve conquered that particular fear, but right now, I don’t really want to be alone. And with my friends, I can just be me. Tonight, they’re getting the me in yoga pants and no makeup. The me that’s a finger-slip away from crashing and burning.

  “I’m really glad you let us come over and hang with you.” Mina smiles at me, then excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

  Once she’s gone, I glance around the room. No one is watching me. I slide my cell out of my pocket, and with a catch in my breathing, I do what I haven’t dared to all day. I’ve been surrounded except for the hours I slept, so I haven’t checked for any texts or voicemails from Jake. I’m equally terrified that he will and won’t have tried to get in touch with me. Today at Freshly Ground, neither of us spoke. I was carrying stock, and he had his arms full of paperwork. When I came out of the bathroom, he was in his office. He didn’t come out the rest of my shift.

  Now, I unlock my phone. I have new texts and a voicemail. They texts all from Coop. When I scroll through, I realize that they start last night. Was it just last night?

  Claire—please call me when you get this. We need to talk about what happened.

  Please call me or text me. Please. I’m so sorry.

  Claire, sweetheart…

  I stop reading and sit with my phone in my hand. When I look down at my hand, it’s trembling, but none of it means anything. He’s been reaching out to me since I left, but I don’t know what that means. Does he want to tell me that he’s sorry? Does he have some sort of explanation that will somehow fix this? What could he ever say to fix this? He once built Cassidy a tree house, and it was solid enough to hold three friends and me a few years later for a sleepover. But this isn’t something a hammer and nail can repair.

  I wait for the tears, but they aren’t there. I guess I’m finally out of tears. Instead, someone sits beside me and takes my phone out of my hand. When I look up, it’s into Sloane’s dark eyes. And there are enough tears there to make up for the ones I’m not crying.

  “Sophie.” She says my name very quietly. “You went so pale. Texts from Jake?”

  I nod
, because I don’t trust myself to speak. I hear the soft sounds of tapping on a screen, and I wait, my head bowed, while Sloane reads the text messages. When she finishes, she lifts the phone to her ear, and dials my voicemail. We know each other’s passwords, so this isn’t a big deal. But the minute it takes her to listen to the message is a huge deal. It’s more important than I can say.

  “Do you want to listen to it?” Her voice is still so soft. So tender.

  “No.” My voice is falling apart in contrast to hers, all jagged sounds. “Just tell me what he said.” The slow hiss from Sloane tells me she’s sighing. I meet her gaze. “Tell me, Sloane.”

  “The texts are all him asking to talk. In the voicemail, he said he realized you probably weren’t seeing his texts. That he wants to see you and explain what happened.” She pauses. “He said the two of you have a lot to talk about.”

  I take my phone back from her and turn it off for the night. The latest text was just before I went to work; hopefully he got my message: I don’t want to talk to him. I’m not ready. Not yet. And I’m honestly not sure when I will be ready. This is new territory. I’m ground zero. I’m ashes.

  “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll talk to him when I can do it without breaking.”

  Sloane nods, but I can tell she has more to say. “Soph, I understand that, but maybe…”

  “No.” I slash through the rest of what she wants to say. My voice is cutting, but I can’t temper myself. “No, Sloane. I don’t want to fucking talk to him!”

  The karaoke machine goes quiet. I hear a sharp intake of breath from one of the girls, and Sloane physically recoils. My voice is angry. Livid. I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry. I feel used. I feel gullible. I feel stupid. I went all the way, expecting Jake to meet me, and he left me there, strung out like a wire after I took down my walls. I took the biggest, scariest chance of my life, and there’s nothing Jake Cooper can say to change his rejection. He made his choice.

  I stand because sitting still feels like dying.

  “I’ve loved him since we were kids. When I left, I put it all away, where I wouldn’t think about him. Then this stupid, fake relationship happened.” I swipe at my eyes as I pace. “I let myself get caught up in it, and I was stupid enough to think it was real, when it was just a goddamn act to Jake.” My voice catches, the syllables falling around me like broken glass. “It wasn’t fake to me.”

  “Sophie—”

  “He may want to talk, but I don’t have anything to say. Not until I’m calmer, until I can breathe.”

  Every time I blink, another memory surfaces, and I want to burn all of them. Jake sneaking in my window the morning of my sixteenth birthday to give me the bracelet he bought me. Teaching me to horseback ride, sitting behind me so I wouldn’t be scared. Jumping in his pool after prom. Riding the strip on weekends with him. Cooking with him. The night we danced. Our kisses. He’s everyfreakingwhere.

  How can I rip him out of my memories when he’s in so many of them?

  “Jake…” My voice wavers. “Normally I’d let him break my heart one thousand times. He’d do it without even meaning to.” I lace my hands together, missing how he made sure to always hold mine. “But not anymore. I’m done letting my heart get broken, even if it’s partially because of me. I’m taking it back finally, so I can somehow start healing.”

  Without saying a word, Sloane walks to me and holds me. I don’t speak, and neither does she, not even when I finally start crying. I’m not sure there’s anything left to say. She rocks me back and forth when I shudder. And when I hold her tighter than she’s holding me, she doesn’t even flinch or ask me to loosen my embrace. She just keeps hugging me. When Mina, Cassidy, and Brenna join in, we stand there quietly, a huge circle, one heart beating together. No one speaks. No one leaves the hug. This isn’t the kind that requires words. It’s the sort where you hug and let someone hug you—for as long as necessary.

  There’s nothing to say, no way to make this letting go easier. I’ve loved Jake for almost half my life. It might take that long to get over him, to stop hoping for what isn’t meant to be. I’m not even sure I know where to start. How to take back my peace of mind. How to knit my heart back together when my hands are shaking too badly to hold the needle. But with my friends, somehow, I’ll make it through this. Whatever happens, I’ll survive.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When I wake the next morning, someone is playing a freakin’ rock concert in my head. At least, that’s how it feels when I open my eyes. And the lights? Jeez, I feel like I’m in an interrogation room. Who left my curtains open? Why is the sun so bright? Groaning, I roll over in bed. When I do, I hear a sound like something knocking into the wall, and I gingerly peek to my left. There’s an empty wine bottle next to my pillow.

  Wait…wine? Did I drink last night? The last thing I really remember… Rolling over into my pillow, I squint. I remember everyone else drinking margaritas, but I stuck to coffee. Only, judging by my bed companion, I didn’t.

  “Fuck.” When I sit up, the room spins crazily. Slamming my eyes shut, I brace my hands on my mattress.

  When I’m able to breathe evenly, I let that be victory enough for a few minutes. Slowly, I think back to last night. I remember the sleepover, a karaoke machine… Oh God, why am I getting the feeling I sang eventually? I remember breaking down over Jake and then nothing. What the hell happened? I whimper and force myself to open my eyes. My phone is sitting on my nightstand. I reach for it. It has a pink Post-it note on it. The handwriting on it belongs to Sloane. It simply says: “Check your videos.”

  I go through them quickly, skipping past the ones of Jake and me. Sure enough, there’s one of me singing. I’m a good singer…when I’m sober. But when I’m drunk, well, my rhythm and my singing voice are two of the first things to go, judging by this video. I cringe, deleting it, before going to the next one. As soon as I press play, Sloane’s face appears in the frame.

  “Good morning, sunshine!” She singsongs the words in a voice that’s pitched just low enough I don’t feel like vomiting. “I wanted to fill you on in last night, since I’m not sure how much you remember.” She winks at me. “You had a little too much to drink, honey. A few too many margaritas, plus a truly impressive amount of wine. The girls and I left around one a.m., after I got you tucked into bed.” She giggles but then sobers. “Anyway, I made sure you got to sleep, then I headed home. I got Brenna to cover your shift at Freshly Ground today, so don’t worry about that. If you need me, I’m at a track meet until noon, but I’m around anytime after that. Love you!”

  The video ends. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, so I do a bit of both. Then I make myself stand and stagger toward the bathroom. I throw up once, and then stumble into the shower. After turning on the water as hot as I can stand it, I try to wash away last night. By the time I’m dressed, I feel like a human being again. Granted, a very hung-over human being, but it’s a start.

  My doorbell rings while I’m waiting for my coffee to brew so I can swallow some aspirin. Adrenaline takes the place of my headache as my primary focus while I struggle with the decision of whether or not to open the door. After a few seconds, I realize that whether it’s Jake, a friend, my mom, or a stranger, hiding and refusing to open the door isn’t really very adult of me.

  I don’t check the peephole before I open the door, so when I swing it open, I have no idea what to expect.

  “Good morning, Sophie.”

  It’s been over two months since the last time I saw Gideon Price, and even though a lot has changed, my reaction to him hasn’t. I immediately start to shut my door in his face, but before I can, he puts a hand against it.

  “Wait, please?”

  We pause like this, the door half closed. I grit my teeth. What is he doing here? What could he possibly want? How did he even find me? Sure, he knows where my hometown is, but how did he know where I’m living? I’ll strangle whichever family member sold me out to him.

  “G
ideon.” I hiss his name, peeking around the door frame. “Why should I wait? What could you have to say that’s worth hearing?”

  “I…” The door is between us, but I hear him exhale. “I’m sorry.”

  I tell myself he’s an actor. He knows how to twist words. How to give them the perfect inflection. How to make them have the most impact. Gideon can play the same scene as apologetic or cocky. He floats from emotion to emotion as needed. But dammit. He sounds genuine. It’s probably a mistake, but I don’t have the energy to fight with him right now. So I let him, but I’m not happy about it.

  Once we’re sitting, he crosses his legs at his ankles and studies me. I let him, even though I want to run to my room and hide under the covers. I feel like shit, but this is the best he’s getting. He doesn’t even deserve this much.

  “You were saying?” I’m being a bitch, and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

  Gideon hurt me. I’m still not sure he ever cared. Even though it’s been more than six months, and even though I was over him long before now, I’m still annoyed at him. And having loved Jake since just makes this even worse. Now that I’ve been so close to a good, healthy relationship only to lose it, Gideon reminds me of how far I thought I had come.

  He leans forward. “I know you’re wondering why I’m here. Please don’t be mad at your sister. She told me where you were living. We talked for about an hour earlier. I just had to see you.” He frowns. “I have to make things right between us.”

  “So you scammed my sister into giving up my address and now you’re here to…what?” I snarl. “Rub salt in my wounds? Isn’t it bad enough that I had to leave Nash? What do you want?”

  I’ve never seen Gideon blush, but I swear he is now. His entire demeanor is different from what I remember. He’s just as put-together as always, but something has changed. I’m the one watching him now, scrutinizing him, and after a moment, I see it. He isn’t “on.” When I was with him, it was impossible to tell when I was really with him. Everything he did was for effect. Magnified. But not now, not this Gideon. He isn’t arrogantly trying to win me back, or make me feel bad for him. He actually seems almost embarrassed.