Fall From Love

by Heather London

  “Holly?!” I hear a shrill voice call my name and I turn around, hoping it’s not Becca. I just don’t think I can deal with her right now. “Oh, my gosh, it’s really you. It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.” Becca hugs me hard, but my arms hang limp at my sides. “You look awesome, by the way. Have you done something with your hair?” Her gaze drifts over my hair before meeting my eyes. “It looks… I don’t know, darker or something,” she says. Her high pitched tone hasn’t changed one bit. It’s still the same one that could easily be mistaken for a ten-year-old girl getting a puppy for her birthday.

  “No, I haven’t done anything to it,” I say, my voice flat.

  “Gosh, I’ve missed you all summer.”

  “Yeah, um, I’ve just been busy.”

  “Can you believe that school’s already starting back again? Summer went by way too fast. Come sit over here by me. We have so much to catch up on.” She grabs my arm and begins to pull me away from Jenna.

  Before I even have a chance to protest, a hard tug pulls me back in the opposite direction. “Nope, she stays with me,” Jenna says, giving me a wink and a smile. “Sorry, Becca, she’s my date tonight.” Jenna’s arm flies around my shoulder, almost in a protective embrace.

  “Oh, okay.” Becca looks at Jenna and then back to me. “I’ll catch up with you later, then.” She frowns and turns to walk away. I glance over to Jenna and give her an appreciative look, hoping she knows how much I love her right now.

  “You know, the next time I’m feeling a little down, I need to see if Becca will sell me some of that perky-pick-me-up juice she must drink. She’s always so... bubbly,” Jenna says, smiling at me.

  I laugh... a real, honest laugh and it feels good. Really good.

  It’s not that I don’t like Becca or don’t want to talk to her. The two of us have been friends since freshman year, and we are both Journalism majors so we have a lot of the same classes. I just don’t think I can stand her bubbly personality right now or the possible question and answer session she may have had planned for me. Questions like: How am I holding up? What have I been doing to keep myself busy? Things I don’t want to talk about with anyone; not to my parents or even Jenna.

  “So, what’s it gonna be? Vodka and cranberry or dirty martini?” Jenna asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I grimace. “Uh, it’s been a while; I think I’ll just start with a beer.”

  “Whatever you say, date. Two beers coming right up.” Jenna smiles and walks towards the bar.

  The moment she leaves my side, I begin to feel anxious. I’m scared that someone will notice me standing alone, think that I’m actually lonely, and come talk to me.

  Not even a full minute passes before I hear a deep voice speak up from behind me. “I thought that was you.”

  I glance over my shoulder and see Joe standing there with a large smile on his face.

  “Hi, Joe.” I stretch my lips out, trying my best to give him a smile. It’s actually really good to see him. His sweet, kind eyes look tired and haggard, though. Normally, I would have asked him if everything is okay, but even with him, I’m not up for conversation. Joe is the owner of Sterling’s and is actually the one who first convinced me to sing up on stage.

  He was walking past our booth one night and had heard me singing along to a band up on stage. He stopped and told me that it should’ve been me up there singing that song. I smiled politely, but told him that it made me too nervous to have all of those people staring at me.

  “Don’t waste your life being scared; you never know when you’ll get another chance.” His words echo in my head as I stand there staring at him.

  “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in here since—” he pauses for a moment and looks towards the ground. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah, it has,” I answer.

  “We gonna hear that beautiful voice of yours tonight?” He looks back up at me and I shake my head.

  “Not tonight, Joe.” And probably not ever again.

  “When you’re ready then.” He smiles and walks away, leaving a sick feeling in my stomach.

  I glance around, now desperate for a drink and my protective best friend to come back. When I finally spot her, I see her hanging all over some guy at the bar. She’s standing in the middle of his straddled legs and whispering in his ear. It doesn’t really surprise me that much. Jenna has always been really flirty, but I can’t help feeling the awkwardness and ache in my chest as I stare at them, so I turn away and look back towards the stage.

  It’s a couple hours into the night, Jenna looks like she’s having fun and that makes me happy more than anything else. She did so much for me this summer and I owe her so much. Actually, I owe her more than that... I owe her my life.

  I have to admit, in a small way, I’m actually enjoying myself, too. What I enjoy the most is watching the singers up on stage; a part of me envying them and another part of me wishing that I had the desire to sing again. Better yet, wishing I had the desire to do anything again.

  A tall guy with tattoos and a shaved head finishes up his rendition of “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi and the crowd goes wild. I feel my heart pick up speed from the energy in the room and, without even having to try, a large grin spreads across my face. He nods his head and takes a quick bow before exiting the stage. A Pearl Jam song blares over the speakers and I know that I have a few minutes before the next singer is up.

  “Bathroom!” I yell over the music, looking over at Jenna.

  “I’ll go get us another drink!” she yells back, bobbing her head to the music as she scoots out of the booth.

  After fighting my way through the crowds, I sigh when I see the line is overflowing out into the hall but I’m not sure why I thought it would be any different. This is how it always is at Sterling’s on open mic night. I take my place in line and lean back up against the wall, listening to the energetic girls in front of me. They are both tall, both have long, perfectly styled, blonde hair that hangs far below their shoulders, and both of them are beautiful. On a good night, a night when I actually tried to look good, I could’ve played in the same ballpark as them, but tonight I would have barely been considered for the B leagues.

  “Did you see the way Dean looked at me? I think he was undressing me with his eyes,” Barbie #1, on the left, gushes.

  Barbie #2 nods her head, way too many times. “Totally, you are so getting lucky with him tonight.”

  “Really, you think I should sleep with him?” Barbie #1 asks, biting her lip. I want to roll my eyes at her pitiful attempt to be clueless, but I refrain.

  “He’s hot, he’s in med school, and you’ve been on three dates,” her friend answers, but quickly follows up with, “but only if you’re ready.”

  Lord. If I ever had a friend that listed any of those three reasons for me to sleep with a guy, I’d likely kick her ass. Jenna would kick my ass if I wanted to sleep with a guy before dating him for at least six months, had met his parents, and had her approval. She flipped when she found out that I lost my virginity to Adam after almost eight months of dating. In the few years I’ve known her, she has always been very protective like that. Sometimes it can be annoying, but overall, I like knowing that she always has my back.

  Standing behind the two blondes started out mildly entertaining, but I don’t know how much more of it I can handle before losing valuable brain cells. The line moves forward a few steps, leaving only Barbie #1 and #2 before it’s my turn. Just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes, I chant to myself.

  “Holly?” I hear a guy’s voice call my name from a distance, but I ignore it, thinking that he must be talking to someone else.

  “Holly.” The voice is right beside me now and I realize that I recognize it. Even though I don’t want to and as hard as I squeeze my eyes shut, the memories come rushing in. My heart hammers as I turn my head to see the face that matches the voice from my memory. The same face I want to forget forever because it brings up too
many horrible feelings from that night. He’s about a foot away from me and my head barely meets his shoulders. I don’t remember him being so tall, but I guess I didn’t really want to remember a lot from that night. The light from the hallway is directly above him, shining down on his sandy brown hair, casting a shadow across half of his face.

  “How are you?” Carter asks and seeing his sympathetic eyes makes my stomach turn, letting me know that this is real and not a dream. This isn’t something I can wake up from.

  “Fine,” I mutter, swallowing hard. It’s not that I’m fine, I just can’t think of anything else to say.

  “Do you have a minute to talk?” he asks and, for a moment, all I can do is stare at him.

  “Um… I’ve... I’ve gotta go,” I stutter, stepping out of the line and making my way back to the booth, back to Jenna. I want to leave and go home. I’m not strong enough to handle this. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this—that I could move on—but it’s clear to me now, I’m just not ready yet.

  “Jenna!” I shout when I find her swaying to the music.

  “Beer for my lovely date,” she yells over the music, handing me a fresh bottle.

  “I’m ready to leave,” I lean over and shout into her ear.

  “What? Why? I thought you were having a good time?” Her face falls more and more with each passing second.

  For a split second, it pains my heart to see her looking at me like this, but then I’m quickly reminded of who is standing right behind me. I can feel him there. “I’ve had a good time, but I’m ready to leave now.”

  Then her eyes shift from my face to someone standing on my left. “Oh, shit.” She looks back at me, her eyes wide and wearing a pained look on her face. “Okay, we can go.”

  “Holly, can I please talk to you? Just for a minute?” Carter is beside me now, yelling in my ear, wanting me to hear his pleas over the music.

  “We have to leave,” Jenna shouts to him before I can even answer.

  “Please, I just want to—” Carter begins again, totally ignoring Jenna, but before he can finish Jenna pulls me away and we make our way to the bar.

  The memories from that night are coming back at full speed. I’ve done such a great job of putting them away—far away—and now, with one look at his face and one word from his lips, it’s all coming back.

  “Hey!” Jenna yells to the bartender, squeezing in between a few people, but never letting go of my hand. “I need to pay my tab.” She turns back to check on me. “We’ll be out of here soon, okay?”

  I nod and glance around, refusing to look behind me, knowing all too well who is back there. The guy Jenna had been flirting with earlier catches my eye. He’s sitting at the bar just a couple seats down from us. With a serious look on his face, I see him shaking his head at someone behind me. Before I can even turn to look and see who it is, Jenna is pulling me again, making me feel like a rag doll as we squeeze between the crowd, bouncing off people as we fight our way to the front door. Finally, we make it outside and I feel the cold air rush over my body, allowing me to feel like I can breathe again.

  We get in the car and begin to back up when a hand starts knocking on my window.

  “He just doesn’t fucking give up, does he?” Jenna stops the car, cusses again, and then looks over at me.

  I swallow hard and close my eyes. “Just roll it down.”

  The window begins to lower and Carter is bent over, making his eyes level with mine. “Hey, it’s pretty clear you don’t like me very much.” He pauses and looks down towards the ground. “But I just wanted to see how you were doing and let you know that I’m here for you.” He hands me a napkin. “Here’s my number… Call if you ever want to talk or if you need anything.”

  I take the napkin and before I can respond, Jenna rolls the window back up and continues to back out of the parking lot.

  Call if you need anything is written diagonally across the napkin along with his name and number below it.

  “Hey, does the girl’s night offer still stand?” I ask, folding the napkin in half and stuffing it down into my purse. I need a distraction and quick.

  “Sure, whatever you need.” She looks over at me and grins, but it’s easy to see that her face holds more remorse than anything.

  ❧

  “Am I a bad person?” I ask out of the blue as Jenna and I lay opposite each other on the couch. Since we’ve been home, neither one of us has breathed a word about what happened back at Sterling’s.

  Jenna leans forward, reaches for the remote, and pauses the movie we’re watching. She turns back and focuses her full attention on me. “Of course, you’re not. Where’s this coming from?”

  “Tonight. The past few months.” I shake my head, thinking of what a crazy person I’ve been. “I feel horrible about how I’ve been treating everyone… especially you.” I look down and fumble with the blanket that’s laying across my lap.

  “Really?” she asks, her voice sounding a little too excited.

  I glance up, studying her face, and she rearranges her features to be more sympathetic. “Sorry, I’m not happy that you feel horrible, I’m just happy that you’re feeling something.” She smiles nervously.

  I pull the blanket up and cover my face. “Oh, my God. It’s true then. I’m a horrible, mean witch, aren’t I?”

  Jenna jerks the blanket away from my face. “No, you’re not. You’re sweet, caring, talented, and the best friend a girl could ask for.”

  “How can you even say that?” I shake my head, wanting to pull the covers back up and hide myself. “I’ve been horrible to you over the last few months. I haven’t been a good friend. I don’t clean up after myself. I don’t bathe on a regular basis. I’m a horrible, mean, and disgusting witch!”

  She can’t help chuckling at my outburst. She stares at me for a moment and then the smile drops from her face as she begins to give me a thoughtful expression.

  “Holly, you’ve gone through something terrible. The way you’ve been acting is just how you’re dealing with it. I don’t mind cleaning your dirty dishes and doing your laundry; I can deal with you not being a good friend, too. You know why? Because I know that one day I’m going to get my friend back. Not just pieces of her here and there. One day, when your heart heals, I’ll get all of you back.” She pauses and then smiles at me. “But the whole not showering thing is pretty gross. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to tell you how bad you smelled.”

  I gasp and my mouth falls open at her honesty. Grabbing a pillow, I chuck it towards her face.

  “Hey, I’m just being honest.” She laughs, throwing her hands up to protect herself form the next hit. “One day, you smelled so bad that I thought I was going to have to leave the apartment.”

  I lean over, grab another throw pillow and chuck it at her.

  Chapter Two

  We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.

  ~ Joseph Campbell

  It’s impossible to understand how not having a person in your life can totally change you, until it actually happens. The day Adam died, it changed me—totally and completely. The happy, vivacious, full of life girl I was when he was alive has since been replaced with a sad, empty, shell of a person.

  Most days, it feels like I’m drowning and it takes every ounce of my strength just to keep my head above the water.

  Before losing Adam, I never knew true heartbreak. Sure, there were times in my life where I thought my heart had been broken, like when I was five and my favorite cat, Tiger, died. I remember crying to my mom, asking her why my chest was hurting so bad. She told me that my heart was just breaking for Tiger. Then, there was the time Daniel Worthington broke up with me in eleventh grade and I thought my heart had been shattered into a million pieces. I thought I’d never get over it, I thought I’d never love again.

  Now, after losing Adam, I’m sure I know true, irrefutable heartbreak. Without him, it feels like a piece of my heart is actually
missing. A few days after he died, my crazy, grief-stricken mind actually wondered if a person could live without a heart. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in the sense that living without one would prevent you from feeling; that, without a heart, you could be numb. I questioned what it would be like to drift through life and just not feel; knowing it would probably be miserable and lonely, but wondering if it would be better than the alternative of actually feeling the pain that sometimes comes with life.

  Now, after living like that for the last few months—totally numb and shutting out everyone I’ve ever loved—I know you can’t live without a heart. Sure, you can exist. You can still breathe. You can still function as a human being… but you’re not living.

  It wasn’t until this past weekend, when I had gone out with Jenna that I realized I missed feeling. I missed going out and having fun. I missed singing. I missed my best friend. I missed my family. And most of all, I missed me.

  Looking down, I glance at the pages in front of me that are covered with sad and depressing words. I’m not sure why it happened this morning, but I felt an overwhelming urge to write. I wasn’t sure what was going to come of the words, but I knew that I at least needed to get them out of my head and down on paper; otherwise, they would haunt me until I did.

  “Hey, you’re up early,” Jenna says through her yawn as she walks into the kitchen.

  “Couldn’t sleep.” I lift my coffee cup to my lips and take a sip.

  “Anxious about classes starting?” She stands on her tip toes and reaches for a coffee cup.

  “Yeah, something like that.” The truth is that I’m terrified. I’m not looking forward to going back to campus. Too many memories.

  “Whatcha working on?” she asks, peering over my shoulder.

  I lean over and cover the paper with my hands.

  “Come on, show me,” she whines.

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not done yet. It’s actually just a bunch of random words.”