by Marie Byers
It was cold outside, a chill in the air, and the trees sway lightly in a breeze. But the weather alone couldn’t account for the cold up her spine because she felt it just the same even after she’d gone in.
Obsessively, she thought of the last night Michael had spent with her. His slow passionate kisses, the gentle way he’d frame her face, how he was strong enough to pick her up and move her where he wanted and one time how he’d held her aloft and had her right there, carrying her full weight while he took her midair.
She blushes bright and crosses her legs tight.
What the hell did any of that matter now? He wasn’t here with her. Her mother had to come instead of the one person she’d thought would always be there for her.
“Amber Moore.” The nurse came to the door and called out her name and it sounded strange, unfamiliar like it belonged to someone else.
Amber rose stiffly to her feet and with one final squeeze of her hand, left Mom to wait for her while she went through those double doors.
Chapter Five
Amber looks around her dorm room with reluctant satisfaction. Through some miracle of mismanagement she’d gotten a single all to herself and has just spent the whole weekend arranging her things. She’s only been here for two days but so far college is not as exciting as she’d thought it’d be.
Or maybe it’s the fact that she can’t seem to shake this weepy, sad feeling that’s followed her all the way from California.
Inside there’s an emptiness she can’t escape.
She can’t be happy that she doesn’t have a roommate. Right now, she would bless a distraction from her thoughts.
Amber drops the last of her clean clothes onto her single mattress and plops herself down next to it. She’s sick of packing, she’s sick of thinking, she’s sick of being hurt and empty.
She lays flat on her back, her hand drifting to her stomach absently. There’s nothing in there now, just organs and blood. She’d thought that getting rid of it would have made everything go back to normal but it didn’t.
Still she’s here, she’s made it. Not quite the way she imagined or still wants even, but she’s here all the same.
There’s a knock on her door and Amber is too exhausted to get up to answer it so she calls out, “it’s open!”
A girl peeks her head around the corner. “Hi, I’m Kim.”
She’s small and thin and looks all of twelve. Kim makes herself at home, squashing Amber between the wall and the pile of clothes. “I live down the hall, just got in today, so I guess we’re gonna be living together for the next year, right?”
Amber blinks and shrugs, she honestly hadn’t been paying attention to orientation dinner last night and it’s like the last few months are a gigantic blur where any information she’d gained about college life was wiped away just as quickly as it was entered into her brain.
Amber introduces herself as well and the girl takes over the rest of the conversation easily, bombarding her with the questions: ‘where did she live before, what does her parents do, is she an only child, is her brother hot or not?’ and on and one in a whirlwind of words interspersed with giggles. Until she finally hits on one that’s a little too close to home:
“You seeing anyone? My boyfriend doesn’t graduate until next year but then he’s joining me here, if we can make it through this one, I guess. Long distance relationships, right? Wooo, they suck ass, but I love him and we’ve been going out forever so I can’t just break up with him and sow my ‘wild oats’ and stuff. What about you?”
Amber’s decision to block out all memories of Michael and the last few months is off to a shaky start.
She shakes her head no and the expression on her face must be enough because Kim doesn’t follow up that obviously loaded answer with another question. Instead she begins to ramble on about some party that the local frat is throwing tonight and how she’s already been invited.
“I was pretty popular in high-school,” Kim reveals. She’s still reclining on Amber’s bed and Amber wonders how she can politely get the girl to go away. It’s not that she’s really annoying her or anything but she hasn’t felt like company as of late.
“I’d worried that it was going to change, you know that saying, big fish in a little pond, little fish in a big pond? Yeah, I thought that’d be me but nope! So far everyone’s been really cool and nice.”
Amber nods along sagely, only listening with half an ear on the conversation. High school was quiet. She wasn’t popular and she wasn’t an outcast, she had the debate team and she had Michael in his letters that came every week like clockwork.
“So you wanna go?”
Amber has to really jog her memory at the question, Kim’s expressive face falls as Amber sees her realize that Kim was the only one keeping track of the conversation.
“The party…” Kim prompts. “Do you want to go? If nothing else there should be plenty of hot guys there.”
It’s that last sentence and the accompanying pang of pain that lances through her gut, that flash of ‘the only one she’ll ever want is so very far from her grasp’ that prods her into accepting. She can’t be this way, it’s been months and months and she’d thought getting out of the house, getting out of the state that would be enough. It’s not though, she misses him and she misses what could have been and what was, she misses the feeling of warmth that came over her when she placed a hand on her lower belly and thought of their child being in there. Yes, fear superseded the—comfort, joy, contentment—thrill of everything else. And truthfully even when she regrets it she knows she’s made the right choice.
But she still misses all the possibilities and she’s frankly sick of being so damn sad all the time she could just—
“Yes, I’ll go,” Amber says decisively, shaking herself out of thoughts that circle around and around without end.
Kim bounces up and down on the bed and squeals.
* * * *
Forty minutes later, Amber is doing what she always does at every party—not that she’d attended many. She’s standing awkwardly in a corner while the person she’s arrived with—in this case Kim—mingles and laughs and finds themselves a bunch of friends.
She feels even more awkward in her short little getup. It’s the same outfit she’d worn in Australia when she was on the hunt to lose her virginity and instead lost everything—her guy, her heart, her happiness. It’s a deliberate choice, maybe if she creates new memories in this dress she can start blocking out all the old ones.
She feels eyes on her and turns to seek out the source. There’s a guy staring at her from across the room, a plastic cup in his hand that probably contained that pungent mystery punch Kim had tried to get her to drink. Amber had more sense than that and is currently sipping on a bottle of water.
He’s tall, with dark eyes and a built body that’s easily a rival for Michael’s years of military-trained sculpted form. She gives him a weak smile when he doesn’t look away and ducks her head down.
She’s always thought she’d had a type but the truth is there’s only Michael. That’s it.
“Hey,” says a husky voice from behind, whiskey bit and rich.
“Hi,” Amber says, mutters low and if he hadn’t been standing so close she’d probably have to repeat herself.
It’s the guy from across the room only he’s not across the room anymore, his hand is hesitantly laying on her hip and his chest is brushing against her elbow.
“I’m Ryan,” he says and he tilts his face and directs the words to her ear, pulling her closer to him.
It feels nice to be touched this way; it feels like forever since there’s been a guy warm against her side, interested in her, wanting her, and she wonders if it makes her easy for wanting that little bit of comfort he offers.
“I’m Amber,” she replies and her voice is already trembling. She wonders if he notices her hands shaking too and if he does, does he think it’s because she’s fighting sobriety and losing, or because she’s a basket case that
’s always on the verge of tears for no good reason.
She feels more like that last.
“Are you a freshman too?”
“Yes,” she replies after a pause. His hand trips over her hip bone and smoothes its way down her thigh. Her bare thigh. She wonders if she should stop him or let him and then wonders why it is she doesn’t really even care.
“Where are you from?”
She has to think about it. The last five years California has been her home. It’s where everyone she loves now resides… well, almost everyone. Can’t she go a second without thinking about Michael? His vibrant green eyes and his open laugh, the way he’d held her and touched her and whispered visions of their future.
“California,” she replies firmly. She doesn’t want to get into it, doesn’t want to talk about her parent’s divorce—and the reason for it—or the reconciliation that fell apart nearly as quickly as it had been glued back together. Or the fact that out of all of them she would never had said her Mom and Dad would be the ones that are still going, yeah they’re in therapy but they’re together. Michael was her best friend, he saw her through every storm, its worse knowing that she doesn’t have him to turn to than even knowing she doesn’t have his love.
And there she goes again. A simple question convoluted by her wayward heart.
“What about you? Where are you from?” she asks, needing anything to distract herself from this misery.
“The great state of Texas. Where everything is a little bigger than life.” The excitement in his voice makes her laugh and he smiles wide in response.
“Hey, you’re almost done with that. Want me to get you another drink? Water again or something else?” Ryan takes the empty bottle from her and begins moving in the opposite direction as he talks.
“Water’s fine.”
He returns with a bottle for both of them, and she’s glad to see he knows how to limit himself. Not that it really matters in the end but he’s a welcome distraction that could quickly get out of hand if she has to babysit drunken revelry. So it’s lucky that he’s not drinking anymore and it has nothing to do with the fact Michael is the last boy she’s breathed in that scent of liquor burn and the steady warm kick of alcohol makes her think of him.
Amber sips at her bottle of water, and stares off into space. Ryan seemingly content to let her mull over her thoughts at her own pace. It seems a little unfair how everything everyone is so lively, happy and laughing and enjoying themselves without reservation. She wants to be one of them but there’s nothing left but an emptiness that gapes unfilled and a hole in her heart.
They talk a little more, she asks more questions than he can because it’s easier that way. She learns he’s nothing at all like Michael and that’s better, that’s good. He’s a middle child from a happy home, he only chose a college so far away because it was the first to give him a full ride. He’s smart in that effortless, unimposing way that Michael has but that’s about all they share. Ryan’s jokes are corny and he knows it, smiling brighter and stronger when she rolls her eyes and calls him out. He touches her, constantly, but it’s almost without purpose or sexual intent and she relaxes back into him letting his arm wrap around her waist and his head of shaggy hair affectionately knocking against hers, gently.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Ryan tells her. The expression on his face is sincere.
His compliment takes her by surprise, especially since superimposed on top of his voice is Michael’s gentle baritone whispering, “a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t look so sad.”
Shyly, sadly, she looks down and away. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter? More quiet?” He stumbles over the offer in a rush of breath and an awkward trip up of his tongue over grammar.
And here’s her moment. This is what she wants right? A memory to cover all the bitter-sweet memories she can’t forget? A moment to wipe away Michael’s touch, the heat of his body moving insider her, sweat-slicked skin pressed against her own?
Someone else’s mouth or lips or tongue stealing her kisses and turning them into their own?
It’s what she wants, maybe what she needs.
Except all she can think is ‘Michael wouldn’t have cared if he was grammatically correct.’
And now she can’t.
Ryan’s face falls before she opens her mouth to say anything. It’s like he reads her mind. “It doesn’t have to be like that. I mean I’d like it to be like that, you’re beautiful and easy to talk to and this is the first time all week I haven’t missed home, but it’s okay if you don’t like me like that.”
He smiles at her hard and takes her hand in his. “You can never have enough friends,” he says.
She smiles back.
* * * *
Soon college life is enough of a distraction in itself. It was different from high school. Kind of almost the direct opposite, here everyone minded their business and the teachers were not interested in your best interests gained through hand-holding and constant reminders about due assignments. It’s almost like they go out of their way to make sure everyone has enough work to keep them out of any type of socialization whatsoever. It’s wonderful. Amber throws herself into her studies. Occasionally coming up for air when Kim or Ryan stops by.
They’re quickly becoming good friends, which is surprisingly nice. She’s lost her debate friends through the distance not seeing each other nearly every day brings and going to separate schools that are each halfway across the world.
Then there’s Michael. She doesn’t know how she’d lost him. Really she doesn’t. One moment everything was perfect and in the next he was just gone, slipping through her fingers like water through a sieve and she hadn’t even enough warning to know to hold on.
She’s lost her best friends.
Ryan and Kim can’t replace them, any of them, especially not Michael. Still, it’s nice just the same to have people who want to hang out with her, who care if she’s so stressed out she forgets to eat breakfast or lunch or dinner. So when they suggest signing up for the same classes when the time comes Amber gladly agrees.
Which of course translates to English and History at ungodly hours in the morning. Amber doesn’t complain. Much. It’s nice to feel included again.
* * * *
They’re hanging out in Amber and Kim’s common room, all three of them, with Ryan reclining in the couch long legs thrown over the arm and his head in Amber’s lap. Kim is sitting on the ground between them, pretending to pour over their history text, Amber can see the corner of COSMO peeking out.
“You think you’re only meant for one person in your life and that’s it?”
See? Completely a COSMO question.
Ryan shrugs. “You mean like a soul mate sort of thing?”
“Yeah,” Kim says and there’s a thoughtful look on her face as she tips backwards to stare at them. “I mean what do you think, is there that special half of your soul out there somewhere?”
Ryan chews on the end of his pencil in thought. And Amber can’t help but to imagine her one special person. But maybe he wasn’t because if he was he’d still be here wouldn’t he?
“I don’t think there is,” Amber says. And isn’t that the problem with my Mom and Dad? Mom couldn’t be satisfied with getting her needs met by just one man, and Dad couldn’t put up with Mom’s wandering…well, to be honest, her wandering everything. And yet they’re still together, still trying. And yet she and Michael…
Michael was everything she’d ever thought she could want. Smart and attractive, someone who loved her for herself, someone she could be herself around in every goofy, awkward, clumsy form. They could talk about anything and maybe it’s unrealistic to expect to never fight but they never did.
Until that one time that ended everything.
“I mean there are billions of people in the world,” Kim continues blithely on, oblivious to the turmoil that’s swirling around Amber. “What are the odds there isn’t at least one person out ther
e that’ll be the perfect match?”
“Exactly,” Amber answers immediately, “what are the odds there is only one match?”
Ryan pipes up thoughtfully from her lap. “I think you’re both right. There’s someone out there that’s out perfect match but then if you don’t stumble into them maybe there are other people that are just as good, could love you just as much, and that you could love too.” He looks up at her and his eyes are serious and Amber doesn’t know what to say.
They’ve settled into this friendship thing where her interest in him on anything but a purely platonic level is one big fat zero of a void. She talks to him, shares her life with him, hangs out with him, and vaguely somewhere in the background thinks he’s attractive and funny and cute and all those other adjectives girls use to mean a guy’s a catch. But it’s vague and half-formed and she can’t really see herself falling for him, there’s not enough room in her heart for another man, not when her heart still belongs to Michael.
Her hand goes to the bit of fluffy, spiky hair that always stand up, and she pushes it back again. “Maybe,” she agrees reluctantly. “Or maybe they just think that there’s someone else out there for them and really it’s just that one person forever that you’ll never get over no matter how you wish it wasn’t true.”
There’s a silence for a moment, a long moment that stretches out awkwardly between them. She’s said too much and she knows it, they don’t talk about her life or ‘before’ like that. They keep things light because that’s the way Amber likes it, that’s the only way she’ll be able to handle moving on, if she’s not presented with memories and flashes of Michael every second of every day. She misses him like a physical pain tearing her in two, all the time and she just wants it to end.
“Are you agreeing with me now,” Kim clambers to her feet and pushes her way between them, nudging Ryan off of Amber’s lap and back into his own space. “You never agree with me, this is so cool. I have to write this moment down so I don’t forget.”
