The Day That Saved Us

by Mindy Hayes

  “Oh good!” Olivia exclaims. “It’s about time.”

  “I was beginning to wonder if she was merely an excuse to get out of the holidays.” My dad’s joke falls flat, forcing laughter and tight smiles from all of us. Good one, Dad.

  “I’ve seen pictures,” Peyton interjects. “She’s definitely real, and she’s beautiful.”

  “Pictures? What pictures?” Olivia asks her. “Why haven’t you shown me?”

  “They’re online, Mom.”

  “Oh, I hate the social media.” I snort. “That’s all anyone ever does anymore. No one ever carries on conversations without their phones. It’s all gossip and propaganda.”

  “It’s just social media, Mom. Not the social media.”

  “Whatever.” She waves Peyton off. “I hate it.”

  I do my best to stifle my laughter. Peyton pinches my arm. “Ouch,” I mutter and cover my smile.

  “Where are you staying while you’re here?” Dad asks.

  “I’ll be here for a month, so I’m going to stay with Mom.”

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to crash here for a couple nights if you want to,” Olivia offers.

  “Thanks,” I offer, though I won’t.

  “Hey.” I lean into Peyton, “Come with me to my car?” With a head nod, I gesture for her to follow me outside. “I have something I want you to listen to.”

  She nods rapidly. We’re both grateful to be saved from this hell. I only have thirty minutes until Tyler shows up, and I will duck out before then.

  We grab our coats off the hooks and walk out the front door. It’s not snowing, but it might as well be. It’s freezing. Peyton tugs her coat a little tighter around her frame and speed-walks to my car.

  “Gosh!” Peyton shivers. “What is it? Ten degrees out here?”

  “Feels like it, but it’s probably thirty.” I chuckle. “There’s this new band that I think you’d like. I want you to hear them.”

  “Cool. You know how much I love your recommendations.”

  I can’t remember the last time we talked music. It’s one more thing I miss about us.

  My heart speeds up at the thought of being alone with her again. It’s been so long. I open the passenger door for her and then I hop in on the other side. I start the car so we can have some heat, and turn on my stereo. When I say the band’s name, I can tell she hasn’t heard of them yet. I flip through the songs, stopping long enough so she gets a taste of each song.

  It has your typical rock band instruments, but what I love most about this band is the unexpected sound of violins. It never struck me as an instrument used for anything outside of an orchestra before, but it blends so well with the drums and guitars.

  Peyton smiles the way she does when she’s into a band—a hint of a smile, absorbing each song. It feels good that I still know her. I stop on the last song of the album. The song I wanted her to hear most—the reason I wanted her to hear the band in the first place.

  It’s a slower paced song. The guitars strum gently but upbeat.

  “I listen to this one a lot.” I turn up the volume a little.

  Peyton sits quietly, and I watch her. She shifts in her seat and tilts her head as she stares at the dashboard. I wish I could read her thoughts. She feels so far away, though she’s only a couple feet from me. I want to reach out and take her hand, but I know I can’t do that.

  The male vocalist sings of falling into old memories, into things they used to do together, and going back to a beautiful place they could share. How he wouldn’t forget how he felt. I feel it every time I listen to the song. I feel his need to remember, to be able to hold onto whatever he can to get him through every day. The only thing pulling me through is memories of her. What we had can’t be forgotten. Maybe it faded for her, but it’s still so vivid in my mind, I’d do anything to remake it.

  I continue to watch her as the song plays. I want her to look at me, but she stays focused on the dashboard, lost in her thoughts. Her smile gradually fades. If only her thoughts were constellations that I could gaze into and explore.

  Once the song is over, there’s only silence. My breathing and time stop as I wait for her to feel everything I feel. For her to fall into memories with me, and come back to me.

  She lifts her eyes and the corners of her mouth, but it’s not the smile I want. “Yeah, it’s a good band,” she says. It’s like she’s trying to appease me.

  Did she even listen to the words? Is she ignoring them? Is this her way of telling me she doesn’t feel the same way?

  “I’ll have to get their album. Thanks for the recommendation. You still know my taste in music.” She smiles, but it’s only a fixture on her face. It’s not filled with any emotion. Even if she doesn’t live in those memories with me, isn’t she at least a little sad that what we had is gone? Her face is all wrong. It’s false, filled with fake emotions and empty eyes.

  I take a deep breath and pull the key from the ignition. “You ready?” I ask, motioning back to the house. She blinks like she’s confused. Does she really not get it? I don’t want to have to explain it to her. She should get it. She should know me.

  Peyton doesn’t respond the way I expect her to. “Tyler proposed last night.”

  My heart tightens in my chest.

  “And I said yes.”

  I can’t breathe.

  “We don’t have a date set yet, but I don’t think it’ll be a long engagement. We’ve been together long enough and just want a small wedding. Just close family and friends.”

  I don’t even know what to say. It hurts too much. Am I having a heart attack? Is this what it feels like?

  “I wanted you to be the first to know before we announced it to everyone else tonight.”

  How thoughtful.

  She pauses for a reply I can’t give her. She said yes? I’ve never hated three letters more. They are the worst letters in the alphabet. How could she say yes? There are feelings churning inside of me that I can’t keep down. I think I’m going to be sick. Peyton is staring at me, waiting. I have to pull myself together.

  “Are you going to say something?”

  I have plenty that I want to say. Don’t do it. Come back to me. Forget him. You were always meant to be mine. But I can’t get my mouth to form the words. We haven’t talked about our feelings in so long, about what we are or could’ve been. I know it’s over, but I can’t seem to let her go.

  Smile, Brodee. I do. Forcefully. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles back. It’s not one of her Peyton smiles. It’s sad, apologetic even. Does she pity me?

  I take a deep breath, but it burns to breathe. I can’t get enough air in my lungs to feel any relief. Suddenly, my car feels too small. Claustrophobia is setting in. I need her out of it. There isn’t enough room inside for the both of us.

  “He should be here soon then, huh? We should get back inside, so you can make the big announcement.”

  Softly, she says, “Okay,” and nods.

  I lock up the car and walk the short distance back to the house. I stop before going inside. Tyler could be in there already. I can’t go in and hear her announce it all over again and pretend everything is fine. I don’t even know the meaning of fine.

  “I think I’m actually gonna head out.”

  Peyton blinks. “Already?”

  “Yeah. I came straight here after I got into town, and I’m super tired.” I scratch the back of my neck, faking exhaustion. “The three-hour drive kinda took it out of me. Plus, Brooke will be calling me soon, and I want to be able to answer it when she does so we can finalize the plan for her coming down.” I motion for Peyton to head inside without me. There’s no way I’ll be able to hang around and hear everyone cheer and congratulate them. “Tell my mom I headed home. We’ll catch up later.”

  Peyton reaches out and hugs me. I reflexively stiffen, though her touch quickly softens me. I wrap my arms around her like it’s the last time. I breathe her in, and I’m punched in the gut wit
h a dose of reality. She’s not mine, and she never will be. I pull back first—and swiftly—because it’s too painful being this close to her with so much distance between us.

  “See you later?” she asks, hopeful, but uncertain.

  “Sure.” I turn with a strained smile and wave.

  “Brodee?” Her questioning voice stops me. Peyton takes a step toward me, but I take a step back. She takes another step, like she wants to see if I’m trying to get away from her. I move back again. I have to. I can’t be close to her any longer. I have to go.

  Her eyes hold the question: What are you doing?

  “I just can’t, okay?” I can’t hide the pain in my eyes any longer. We’ve been pretending for too long.

  Tears start to sting her eyes. “Brodee,” she nearly pleads. “Can’t we talk—?”

  I shake my head and walk away without a backward glance. It hits me even harder as I walk away.

  I lost her.

  I really lost her this time.

  I FIND PEYTON exactly where Harper said I would, walking out of the building where she had her last class. It must have been a lazy morning. Peyton has her hair up on the top of her head and is wearing one of those thick stretchy bands around her head to push back her bangs. She looks cute, cozy. I wait for her to pass me, lingering under an oak tree before I stealthily walk up behind her on the sidewalk.

  “I’m new in town. Could you give me directions to your dorm room?”

  Peyton spins around, nearly knocking her head into mine. “Brodee!” She punches my shoulder before engulfing me in her arms. “You stupid creep, you scared me!”

  “Point for Gryffindor.”

  She chuckles. “Since when do you like Harry Potter?”

  I nudge her shoulder with mine as we walk through the grass on campus. “Who doesn’t like Harry Potter?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  I shrug and say, “Harper told me you finished class at two, so I figured I’d come surprise you.”

  She blinks in confusion. “No, I mean, you were just here a couple weekends ago. I thought I was supposed to come see you next month.”

  “I couldn’t wait that long.”

  My roommate, Greg, is a sophomore who has a new girl in his bed every day. Yeah. Day. Not night. I’ve walked in on him like ten times. He doesn’t even care, and neither do his conquests. They just keep doing their thing, and I’m left scarred and bolting out of the room faster than I can count to one. I hate it. All I can think about is how much I wish Peyton were around, so I could seek shelter in her room and vent. She’d get it. We could joke and laugh about my misfortune and then come up with solutions to save my eyes.

  There’s a shift. Peyton’s no longer smiling at me or laughing. “Brodee…”

  The way she says my name…I hate it. There’s no gold and fire in her eyes. There’s no playfulness or affection. I’m no longer a person. I’m a sadness.

  I sigh. “Peyton. Stop making this so depressing. A guy can’t come and see his best friend?”

  “I just don’t want you to get false hope in us.”

  “I’m not,” I counter. Why does she have to bring that into this? “It’s hard adjusting to not seeing you every day. I wanted to hang out with my best friend. Am I not allowed to do that? Can we do that?”

  Her stare is solemn, almost condescending. “Can you do that? Just hang out, I mean.”

  The way she asks makes me feel two inches tall, like this isn’t nearly as difficult for her as it is for me. As if I’m so pathetically in love with her that I can’t control myself, that I’ll fling myself at her any minute. She can disregard her feelings for me like she would shoo away a fly. I wish I could do the same.

  One part of me wants to shout at her and ask her how she can shut me out so easily. Another part takes it as a challenge. Of course I can do it, but if I turn on my charm and shut off my desperation, can you? The other parts shut up. They’re already tired of this argument.

  “I can, if you can.”

  Peyton smiles with a light laugh like she wants to call me out on my crap, as if she knows me or something. “Let me text Harper. See if she and Skylar want to meet us to get some food.”

  Chaperones. She really doesn’t trust me.

  “How is this so easy for you?” I ask. I let it go last time, but if this is going to be an ongoing battle, I want to end it now. “How can you just shut off your feelings like that?”

  She puts down her phone and sets her stare. There’s no light, no more laughter. “Because I have to,” she whispers. “You think this is easy for me? If I don’t, then I’ll be a puddle. I’ll be nothing but tears and heartbrokenness, and that’s not how I want to live.”

  I take one of her hands in mine. “If it’s so hard to let us go, it can’t possibly be right, Pete.”

  Her eyes break away, following the tree line on the open lawn in the middle of campus. Her silence is suffocating me. Whatever she’s going to say isn’t going to be what I want to hear.

  “I’ve thought the same thing, you know?” she says, her voice faraway. “If it hurts this much, maybe we made the wrong decision. Maybe I pushed you away too soon.” Her eyes lock with mine. “But making the right choice doesn’t always feel good. If it did, it would never be hard to choose what’s right. We’d always just go with what makes us feel good.”

  “What’s wrong with being impulsive? Living in the moment? Doing what feels good? Being with the one you love?” I let go of her hand and take her shoulders in my hands, brushing my thumbs back and forth. “Why can’t we have both? We feel right. We feel good. It’s okay to do what feels good sometimes.”

  She puts distance between us. “Because we’re not right. We’re twisted.”

  It couldn’t have hurt more if she’d slapped me across the face. I choke, “Twisted?”

  “Please don’t look at me like that, Brodee. You know it’s true. And every time we see each other, the harder it gets to make the distinction between friends or more. We have too much more. It’s blurring the lines and only making it more difficult for us to move on.”

  “We’re not twisted. That’s your own insecurity.” I straighten. “And maybe I don’t want to move on.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not just that. Someday I want a happy marriage, a solid family. How can I have that with the son of the man who harbored feelings behind my dad’s back all those years, and then took advantage of my mom when the timing was right?”

  A knife in my chest cuts off my air supply. “You’re lumping me with him?”

  I want to punch something. Too bad the closest thing is a tree trunk. I don’t need a broken hand and a broken heart.

  “I want you in my life,” she says, inching into my space again, peering up at me. “I need you as my best friend, Brodee. Just my friend. If we keep holding on, this will turn into a bloodbath. The only thing that will remain of our hearts is the tissue. We seemed like a good idea once upon a time, but you have to know, you have to see that ship is long gone.”

  Why do I feel like she’s breaking up with me all over again? All I wanted was to seek comfort in my best friend, to spend time with someone who knows me better than anyone else. All I wanted was to come and be with the one person who could make me feel better. Now, all I feel is worse—worse than I’ve ever felt.

  I can’t open my mouth to say anything. She takes my silence as her cue to drive the nail into the coffin. “I can’t handle you constantly reminding me of the summer. It’s hard enough as it is. And you looking at me like that and touching me the way you do…it makes it so hard to think straight, to make the right choice. I need you to go back to what we were before Hatteras. If you care at all about my happiness, I need you to be the over-protective brother. The platonic, carefree best friend.” Tears glisten in her pale blue eyes. She doesn’t blink once. “I’m begging you. If you love me…Let. Me. Go.”

  When she begs like that, looking so desperate and distraught, what can I do but nod. And if she’
s going to lump me with my dad? Why would I want to be with her? Why would I want to be a constant reminder of betrayal?

  WHEN I WAKE up I don’t get out of bed. I stare at the ceiling of my old bedroom with my arm behind my head. It baffles me—and everyone else—that my mom never sold this place and moved far away. Every day she has to look next door and see the love of her life with her ex-best friend. But she refused to lose the house my brother and I grew up in. And I don’t think she wants them to think they won. Though I don’t think anyone won in this situation. Everyone lost something.

  “Just because this house holds memories with him, doesn’t mean I should have to move. It’s ours. I won’t give up a part of my history because he decided it wasn’t what he wanted,” she once said to me. “It’s what I wanted. I’ll cherish this house until the day I die.”

  At first, I thought she kept the house because she hoped he’d come back, but now I know even if he did attempt to come crawling back, she wouldn’t let him. She’s done with that period of her life. She asked him to move out. She served him with the divorce papers. All things he did willingly.

  Our last summer in Hatteras plays like a broken record in my head all the time. Sometimes my brain gives me the good parts—the parts where Peyton smiled at me, the times when she kissed me, the feel of her arms wrapped around my body, the sound of her laughter—but days like today, all I see is the bad.

  When I had come up the boardwalk and into the beach house that day, I’d nearly walked in on my parents kissing, but it hadn’t been right. It’d been my dad, but not my mom. It had been Olivia. I’d stopped and quickly, but quietly, taken a step back. They had been too wrapped up in a passionate embrace to even notice I was there.

  “Stop,” Olivia said, pushing him back. And I slipped behind the corner, out of sight. “Nick, we can’t do this right now. It isn’t right.”

  “Liv, it’s our time.”

  “I know, but this summer…this summer is all we have left, and it’s almost over. Tate’s not just your wife. She’s my best friend.”

  “You know, I loved you first.”