On Paper

by Shae Scott

  Work started in two days. I was anxious to get there and dive into it. There was so much changing and the logical side of me needed to see it all in person so I could put it all in its new proper place.

  When it came to the roommate lottery I was pretty sure I'd hit the jackpot. Erin was really easy to get along with and we seemed to have a lot in common. We'd spent those first two days getting to know each other. She took me around the city, teaching me how to use the subway and what places to steer clear of.

  She'd worked at McLean and Matthews Publishing for over a year now and she seemed to really like it. She gave me the low down on some of the people I'd meet and a little heads up on the way things went. I liked having the information. It left me feeling prepared.

  We ordered pizza on Sunday night and ate it on the couch in our yoga pants and socks, watching romantic comedies on Netflix and talking about our favorite books. I loved book talk, and someone who was willing to talk with me about the characters like they were real people, living through real situations was gold in my book. Because, let's face it, if a book is good then those characters become real. You live with them and through them. You mourn with them, you laugh with them. Each one is made up of parts of us, it's why we latch on and highlight and feel completely abandoned once we reach the last page.

  Erin had that same fire in her when it came to reading, so there was an instant bond. I only wished that Lily could be here with me. I think she would have liked Erin too.

  The nice thing about working with your roommate is that you don't have to walk into the new job alone. You already have a friend. I remember when I was in first grade and I had had to change schools. I had walked into my classroom that first day scared to death that I wouldn't make any friends. Everyone seemed to have their group already and they were all chattering, a few casting curious looks my direction, but nothing more. I had wanted to cry and run back out into the hall to find my mom. I didn't want to start a new school. I didn't want to have to make friends with these new kids. But then a girl with dark curls and a blue sundress pranced over to me and introduced herself as Lily McCandless and asked if I wanted to be her friend. It had made the rest of the day easier. She had been there for me from day one.

  Now it was Erin walking me in and showing me where the HR office was and promising to come find me for lunch later. It took a lot of the pressure off and let me just enjoy the excitement of starting my first grown-up job.

  This was my adventure. My beginning. And I was going into it my eyes open to every possibility.

  I WAS ADAPTING to my new home. My nerves had started to settle and the crowds around made me more excited than nervous now. I wanted to submerge myself into the whole thing.

  I stood on the busy sidewalk, people rushing past me, each one on a mission. New York was a city of individuals. What I mean is each person seemed to exist in their own bubble. Or rather, it was as if each person was the star of their own movie, surrounded by millions of side characters and extras. You could get lost in the crowd in an instant. It was an odd sensation. A little bit lonely, but also empowering.

  Suddenly, I was hit with a memory. Sitting with Keaton on that bench back in San Francisco looking over the bay, he'd told me about how he liked to explore, how he liked to get lost in place he didn't know. The recollection made me smile and for the first time I felt like I had found a place that I wanted to get lost in. I wanted to explore, dive in, all alone. I smiled as I looked up and down the street, taking in the faces of strangers all with a set destination. Maybe they were getting lost too. Maybe this entire city was home to transplants like me, trying to be brave, trying to find themselves by getting lost.

  It was an awfully Hallmark way to think, but I was okay with that. I stepped into the flow of pedestrians and I began to walk. I had no plan, no destination and the idea thrilled me. I slipped my earbuds in and turned on Lily's New York playlist. It made me feel like I was in my own music video and a few songs in I wondered if I had a big goofy grin on my face as I imagined it. Then, I remembered where I was and realized no one would care if I did.

  I walked for an hour, up and down city blocks, wandering into little shops and checking out street vendors. Erin had warned me about them, telling me that I'd be jaded before long. But for now it was all new and exciting and I soaked it all up.

  It was late afternoon before I started back towards the apartment. And as I walked I had a mini revelation. This past year had been unlike any other in my history. I'd experienced more in that short time than I had in all of my 23 years. I had changed. I had let go. I had learned so much. And as I reflected on it all I realized something else.

  I've learned that you can survive a broken heart. What's more you can even emerge a better person for it. I never would have believed that had you told me this a year ago. After all, I've always felt more comfortable on the safe side. Risk and broken hearts never felt worth it. There was too much to lose. I always feared that I would lose myself.

  I never imagined that could be a good thing. Losing myself. I never imagined that I would meet someone like Keaton Harris. Someone who challenged me, pushed me, made me step off of the curb and away from the sidelines and live fully. Live without fear or regret, without questions.

  I had lost myself. I had lost the old me and that wasn't such a bad thing. I had lost myself in him and now that he was gone from my life I still carried all of those new pieces of myself with me. I still carried him with me. I still felt him every single day. Perhaps I always would.

  Maybe it wasn't about the heartbreak or surviving the pain that made you emerge better, but the person who had moved you so deeply that you could no longer live without the marks that they had made.

  The thought made me smile and the fact that I could smile, even as my heart still ached for him, told me that no matter how ugly the ending, the journey had been worth it. It's possible that some people aren't meant for lasting roles in our life. Sometimes their presence is swift, yet so meaningful that it changes your whole world into brilliant color.

  Who would have thought I would have this attitude? Certainly not the girl who had left that hotel room without so much as a goodbye. That girl hadn't expected a shattered heart could heal. No way could her kind of patchwork healing lead her here, to this city, to this new brave adventure. Sure, I would have had the adventure without him probably, but I don't know that I would have learned to embrace it the way that I did now.

  I walked through my new city, lost in my own revelations and grabbing hold of the adventure that had found its way into my spirit. Today was about getting lost and learning who I was on the way back.

  HAVE YOU EVER had that moment where you see a ghost from your past somewhere far from where they are supposed to be? That moment where your heart leaps from your chest, your breath catches as you start to call out their name only as you realize you must be seeing someone else? Seeing them in a stranger because you just miss them so much? After all, it couldn't be them.

  It couldn't be her.

  Only it was. It wasn't the ghost that had been haunting me since the moment she walked away. She was real. Flesh. Blood. Pure laughter. She was standing next to another girl, sipping on coffee and laughing -- head thrown back laughing. The sound rained down on me, a mixture of joy and whimsy and I closed my eyes soaking it in.

  I wanted to go to her. I would have gone to her. But shit, she was happy. So unlike the last time I had seen her. That simple fact held me in place, a voyeur, an observer -- a stranger.

  Seeing her there, from afar, I was struck by her beauty. My memory had not held up to the reality. Memories had dulled the images in my mind, self protection probably, because seeing her now, I was overtaken with a powerful ache in my chest that I was sure would end me if I had to survive much longer without her.

  I needed to go to her. I wanted to find out why she was in the city and tell her all of the things that I'd been aching to tell her. I wanted to go to her now and purge every emotion vibrating through m
y body.

  Something stopped me. It was that smile on her face. The one that sparked in her eye, the way she clutched her stomach as she laughed.

  I leaned forward, my elbows on the table as I watched them talk. She was different. Different, but exactly the same. Different from the girl who had walked out on me in Seattle, more like the girl I'd been dumbstruck by in San Francisco.

  I loved seeing her that way; so alive, so free. But it was followed by a sinking realization. She was happy without me. It's not that I wanted her to be falling apart like I had been, I wanted more for her. But the idea that she'd moved on, that she'd let us go, cut me deep. Because now I was in it alone.

  I STARED AT the completed manuscript on my screen. Uploaded. Ready to go. I felt nervous about the idea of hitting the button that would send it out into the world. It wasn’t about the world seeing the words; it was about her seeing them. I wanted her to see them. I needed her to see them. But honesty is hard when it's this raw.

  This was easily the hardest thing I’d ever written. But somehow it was also the most effortless. It was my heart, my broken pieces and my every hope weaved into the words of this story. It was my story. It was our story. No one would know, except for her. She would know. This whole book was my message to her.

  All I could do was hope that she read it. I needed her to know. I'd fucked up a lot when it came to Quinn. I'd hurt her, I'd pushed her away after I'd convinced her to stay. I needed her to know that I regretted it. I needed her to know that I thought about her every day. Most of all, I needed her to know that I loved her.

  There were no guarantees that she would read it; the girl was stubborn. She'd probably ignore it just because she could. I hoped that she couldn't. I needed her to read it. If no one else in the entire world read it, I needed her to. Maybe it was selfish of me to put it all out there and hope that no one would see through it, but I’ve always known I was selfish.

  I took a deep breath and clicked publish. It was gone. Within a few hours my surprise book would be live and my soul would be bared to an unknowing public. I felt a quiet calm take over, drifting over me in the quiet of the night. I closed the lid on my computer and took a deep breath, letting out the nerves and accepting that I'd done what I’d needed to do.

  I smiled as I looked down at the print out of the cover art. It had turned out just the way that I had imagined it. The cover was dark, a man sitting in shadow, bent over with his elbows on his knees. He was lost, defeated, just as I had been when she'd left. In his hand he held a single white daisy, its petals no longer perfect, but still holding on, still fighting with life. Then, there was the title, in bold script, running across the top of the page. One word that said it all:

  Apology.

  I WAS READING past my bedtime when my computer dinged with an incoming Skype call. Lily. I smiled and thanked God for technology. I waved as her image took over the screen.

  "Hey, Lil, what's up?" I asked. She looked concerned. It made my heart flutter with a twinge of worry.

  "Have you seen it?" Lily's voice came out low and calm, like she was afraid of my reaction.

  "Have I seen what?" I asked.

  She chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated how to deliver whatever news she had. Honestly, it looked like she was preparing to deliver a harsh blow.

  "Lily, what's going on? You're freaking me out," I laughed, nervously.

  "Are you sitting down? You need to see something," she said. She pulled out her phone and started working the screen to find whatever it was that was so important for me to see. Her gaze found mine, as she prepared to turn the phone to me. "It's Keaton," she warned.

  Shit. What was she about to show me? Was it him and some new girl? I didn't need, nor did I want, to see that. "Lily, I don't--." I tried to turn away. I didn't need this distraction. I was working at getting over whatever we had been. I didn't need constant reminders of what he was doing now or who he was doing it with.

  "Wait," Lily demanded. She shoved the phone at the camera. It wasn't Keaton. At least not a photo of him. It was a book cover.

  "What is this?" I asked squinting at the screen so that I could get a better look.

  "He released it last night. No one knew it was happening. Miles didn’t even know he was doing it," she said.

  I stared at the screen. The cover was beautiful. The model looked a lot like the guy I had known, but it was the daisy that held my attention, causing my heart to pound painfully against my chest. Tears pricked my eyes. The title, Apology. What was this? What did it mean?

  "Are you okay?" Lily asked.

  I shook my head as her face came back into view. I was glad; I didn't want to look at it anymore. It had knocked me unsteady. "What's it about?" I asked quietly.

  Lily tilted her head to the side, giving me a look that suggested that I was crazy. I felt a little crazy right now. I definitely didn't feel in control at the moment.

  "Are you going to read it?" she asked quietly.

  "No. Why would I read it? It's over. I don't need to read it," I said, squaring my shoulders.

  "But don't you want to? I mean it has to be meant for you, right?" she asked carefully.

  Could it be meant for me? The idea seemed preposterous. I mean talk about over-the-top. But that cover. That title. It all made my heart ache.

  "No. I can't go back there."

  "I guess I can understand that. Should I not have shown you?" she asked.

  I shook my head, "No. I would have seen it anyway. It's fine. I just feel a little rattled," I admitted.

  Lily took a deep breath and I watched as she squared her shoulders. I recognized her trying to change the mood, help me shake off the cloud that had settled in around me. "Try and forget it. Just stay off social media for awhile and do your best not to think about it," she said. It was a great plan. I wasn't sure it was one that I could follow though. Despite my claims, I was already itching to read it. How could I not? It was the biggest temptation sitting right in front of me, I knew it would be bad for me, I knew it would hurt, but I still craved it. Because they were his words and I missed his words. I missed his voice, his smile; I missed every single thing about him.

  Lily must have seen the struggle on my face. "Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked. I nodded, still trying to sort through it.

  "I'm here if you want to stay connected. I can stay up all night to talk you off the ledge if you want," she smiled.

  "I'll be fine. I think I'm just going to try and go to sleep," I said even though my pulse was racing with adrenaline that I knew would keep me far away from sleep.

  "You're sure?" She obviously didn't believe me, but she knew me well enough to know that I needed to sort this one out on my own.

  "I'm sure. Thanks for giving me the heads up," I said. She frowned and I managed a laugh. "Really, it’s better than being surprised later," I assured her.

  We said our goodbyes and I fell back against my pillows and stared up at the ceiling, the battle already raging within me. My head warned me to stay far away from that book, but my heart craved it, felt the necessity of knowing. Each decision seemed dangerous.

  No. I wouldn't give in. I'd made too many strides at getting my life back together. I had moved clear across the country alone and I was starting a new life. This was my time and I didn't need to go back down that road with him. And let's be honest, cover and title aside, chances are the story was completely random and had nothing to do with us. The idea that it did seemed completely self-indulgent.

  I flipped off the light, letting the dark surround me, hoping it would shut of my brain. It only made it louder. It was on a constant loop, it wasn't getting me anywhere.

  I made it forty-two minutes before I caved.

  I turned on the lamp and grabbed the Kindle off of my nightstand, my fingers tapped against the edges nervously as I debated turning it on.

  I shouldn't go anywhere near it. But I hit the power button and found the buy page anyway. I stared at the cover until it became a blur of col
or with no definition. I wasn't going to buy it, but before I could stop myself I'd hit buy and now it was sitting on my Kindle, waiting for me like the greatest temptation I'd had since . . . well, since that first night we'd been together in San Francisco.

  The words waited for me, pulling at me. I was afraid of them. I needed them. I didn't even know what I wanted them to say. What if I read them and they had nothing to do with me, with us? What if they had everything to do with us? I didn't know which would be best.

  I clicked the page, away from the title and took a deep breath as I landed on the dedication page.

  For you. It will always be you.

  That's all it took. Tears pricked my eyes. I knew I had to read it. There was never any choice. I missed him too much to ignore any of his words. And to know that these words were something more . . . I had to. Maybe they would heal me, maybe they would shatter me. It didn't matter. I had to finish the journey. These words had become a part of our story and I had no choice but to finish it.

  THE LINE WAS long. My palms were sweating and the constant chatter around me was becoming a hum of white noise. I kept questioning my decision to come here. Did I really want to see him face-to-face, here, at a signing surrounded by strangers? I didn't know what I hoped to accomplish. Maybe I was hoping to find the closure I'd denied myself when I'd left? Maybe I wanted to thank him for the words he'd written about us, or maybe I just really wanted to see his face. Up close. In person. Whatever the reason, I'd felt the pull to come here and face him.

  But as the line pushed forward it left me feeling nauseated. The whole scene, me standing in this line, holding his book, waiting like a stranger and feeling like a ghost, left me unsteady. I was getting closer now, I couldn't see him but I could hear his laugh every now and again, breaking through the chatter. It hit me like a freight train, the familiar tone. I closed my eyes and tried to picture his face, the way he'd let his head fall back when he laughed like that. I nearly stepped out of the line. I nearly changed my mind and headed for home. I wasn't ready for this.