I didn’t need to think about this.
Most of the time I put it out of my mind. Only when something made her memory crop up or when I literally slammed into her at the bar did I get preoccupied with the one that got away.
The one I threw away.
Officially, eighteen years down the line, still the worst goddamn night of my life.
I was nineteen years old, a year out of high school and going nowhere. Not college, not even vocational school. I was working in my dad’s garage. It was what I wanted to do, and it was all I’d grown up expecting. We were from the wrong side of the tracks, blue collar manual labor, and not near good enough for Andrew Spelling’s little princess of an only daughter. At least not where her dad was concerned.
If she’d had brothers and sisters to divide his focus, if her mom hadn’t died when she was so little, if he hadn’t been such a stuck up, overbearing bastard, maybe things would’ve been different. Sure, I made the decision on my own. But not without a lot of help from him, behind the scenes, the pressure, the gossip. How I was going to hold her back.
Michelle was all-American, blue-eyed blonde perfection even then. Her straight white teeth, her pretty smile, her straight-A report cards and how she tutored underprivileged kids for free after school. Her blue ribbons for equestrian events when she was little and for academic decathlon in high school. She was so perfect she got scholarships she didn’t even apply for. They tried to give her a full ride to Tulane, but she had her heart set on Columbia. That girl was Ivy League material a hundred percent.
Never mind her fantastic laugh, her dry sense of humor or the fact that she’d take any dare if the prize was tacos. Never mind who she really was under the veneer of daddy’s little girl.
She had never looked down on me. But I had been convinced he was right. I was an albatross around her neck, dragging her down and keeping her from achieving her potential. She had talked about staying in Rockford Falls and going to the community college in Overton for a couple of years to stay close to me. We would’ve had two more years together, before she had to spread her wings. I wasn’t going to make anything of myself in that length of time, and I couldn’t move away and follow her. She had bigger, better things to do. I wasn’t going to stand in her way, not even if it killed me to tell her that lie.
We had gone out to the Falls the night before her graduation. Her final exams were over, and we spent the afternoon swimming and getting a little sunburned, picnicking, fooling around. When night fell, I pulled a contraband bottle of cheap champagne out of the cooler in my truck and we toasted her future with paper cups.
That waxy Dixie cup of lukewarm champagne had been bitter in my mouth with what I had to say. I’d gotten her to get in the truck, convinced her we should go home. When we were almost there, I parked a block from her house and got out, opened her door.
“I want to walk you the rest of the way. For old times’ sake,” I said, remembering with each deathly step the times I’d walked her home from school before I was old enough to drive and then walked all the way to my house across town.
“It’s not like you’re never driving me home again,” she had joked.
“You graduate tomorrow night. Let a guy get nostalgic,” I had said like it was nothing.
“You’ll be there, won’t you? You’re coming to the party at the club after?” she pressed.
I’d been putting it off for weeks. I had known that her dad was throwing a fancy party at his country club for his daughter’s graduation. She’d shown me her dress, something long and white like the gown a debutante would wear in an old movie. If I even touched a dress like that, I’d get grease on it from working in the garage. My fingerprints were always dark no matter how much I scrubbed my hands. Like I would be leaving a stain of my working class, wrong side of the tracks handprint on her flawless elegant gown. I hated that dress and everything it stood for.
“I’m not going,” I said abruptly.
“What? You have to be there, Drew,” she said, stopping and facing me. “Please. You know I want you there. Not everybody’s like my dad. You know Trixie’ll be there and Laura and Noah. They’re your friends too. But don’t go because they’ll be there. Come to it for me. You know I never ask you to be around him because he’s so uptight, but I’m not ashamed of you. Please say you know I’m not ashamed of you. I want a chance to see you all dressed up again. You looked so slick at prom.”
“That was a mistake,” I said, my voice gruff.
“It was not a mistake and you know it. Why won’t you come to the party?”
“I don’t belong there, Chel.”
“If I’m there, then you belong there, because you belong with me!” she said, lifting her stubborn chin. We were under a streetlight and her blue eyes were bright with fury and unshed tears. It was tearing at me like razor blades to let her down, to let her go like this.
“I’m not doing it anymore. Pretending like I fit in. You have a different kind of life. And that’s fine. That’s what you deserve, and it’s going to be great. You’re going to be amazing. But I’m not going to be part of it.”
“What? No!” she said, stomping her foot.
The pretty little blonde princess had some serious fire in her, and she wasn’t letting me go without a fight.
“You’re going to Columbia.”
“I’m not. I’m going to Overton Community for two years and then a state school. Unless you’re a freakin’ Kennedy, no one cares where your degree came from anyway.”
“It’s a first class education, and you’ve earned it. You deserve that.”
“You are as obsessed with it as my dad, I swear. You two have a lot in common. Like you both want to tell me what’s best for me. I never thought I’d hear this from you. You know me. You know me,” she insisted.
She stood on her tiptoes and grabbed my face in her hands, “I love you, you stubborn asshole. And you love me back. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Chel had put her hands in my long hair, threaded her fingers through it the way I loved, and she had kissed me. Pressed her lips to mine, sucked my bottom lip, nipped at my top lip, tried to get me to open my mouth and let her in. My hands were fists at my side, probably white knuckled from the agony of having to resist her, to step back from her. I had kept my mouth pressed shut in a tight line, impervious to her passionate kiss, to her pleading.
“Don’t,” I said, “you’ll just be embarrassed later.”
How was I making my voice so cold when I wanted to fall to my knees, let loose the tears that were searing my throat and sob out the truth? That I loved her so much I was willing to tear my heart out to let her go. To give her the life she deserved, the life I could never give her. I had to clear my throat then. She had staggered back like I had backhanded her across the face. She was reeling.
“What do you mean I’ll be embarrassed later?”
She was hurt, but she was squaring up for a fight again. God, she was scrappy and tough, and I loved her so much.
“Because you’re practically begging. I know you don’t wanna hear it any more than I want to say it,” I had said, big ragged breath in and then I ripped off the band aid or threw myself on the land mine, however you want to look at it.
“Say what?” she said, chin jutting out, daring me to break the heart she’d given to me so freely.
“That this is over. There’s no point pretending any more.”
“Why would it be over? You only date high school girls?” She gave a harsh laugh, but her eyes were scared that this wasn’t a joke.
“No. I don’t waste time with girls when it’s time to move on.”
“Is this about college?” she had demanded, so sharp, too clever for me.
“No,” I lied again, “It’s about the fact that—God, Chel, are you gonna make me say it?” I had broken off, raked a hand through my hair.
“Yeah. You have to say it. If you’re going to pull this bullshit drama on me, go ahead and drop your bomb. Something’s been
off all day. Did you cheat on me? Did you—is she pregnant?” she had said in a smaller voice, trying so hard to act big.
“Jesus, Chel--” I had burst out, insulted that she’d ever think that of me for one second. I hadn’t looked at another girl for four goddamn years. I was irate at the suggestion that I’d cheated. It was all I could do not to react in a big way. To tell her loud and proud that she was the only one for me, that I’d rather cut my throat than touch another woman.
“So you’re done with me, but you get mad if I think you cheated? That makes no sense, Drew! Tell me what’s going on for real.”
“I’m done. That kind of accusation just proves that you don’t know me. I never cheated on you, not even when I knew it was over, and I didn’t want to be with you any more. I waited to tell you because I know how important finals were to you, and your GPA and all that crap.” I said, trying to sound careless. “If you got upset, you’d be too distracted to study. So I was considerate and waited for a better time. And instead of thanking me, you act suspicious. When it’s as simple as I said it is. I’m done with you.”
“You’re done? Just like that?”
“Okay. Have it your way. I’ll say it. I didn’t want to be hurtful if I could help it. I don’t love you, Michelle. It just stopped, went away, whatever.” I gave a purposeful shrug, just to be even more of an asshole.
“Why? Drew, tell me why?” she had said. There were tears on her face. She was reaching for me. She didn’t want to believe it. It had killed me to say it once. I couldn’t do it again, couldn’t stand there and explain anything to her. There was nothing to explain, no words that could make any of this make sense to her. So I did the only shitty thing left that I could do to her.
I left her.
I turned around and walked away from her, stuffed my hands in my pockets and left her there crying by herself in the middle of the street.
Worst day of my life, and I’d relived it ten thousand times since then. I was stuck in what I call the Purgatory Loop. Growing up, my mom said sinners went to purgatory to think about their sins and truly repent. So when I went into the spiral of dwelling on what I did to Michelle, when I sat and remembered our times together and how good it was, I considered that part of my time in purgatory. I was paying for my sins with the kind of futile suffering only a man who wrecked his own life could experience. The phone rang, and that jostled me out of the descent.
“Hey,” I said, answering the call from my brother.
“Hey yourself. How’s my baby brother?” Greg asked.
“Long day. How bout yourself?”
“Must not be too long, you sound like you’re home and not in the shop.”
“I started early. I took off at seven, grabbed some takeout and here I am.”
“What’d you get? Chinese? You know I miss Mama Yi’s chop suey.”
“They don’t have Chinese food in Chicago?” I joked.
“They have amazing food here. But nothing quite like Mama Yi’s.”
“No, no Mama Yi’s tonight. I just ran by the bar and grabbed a burger.”
“Let me guess. You inhaled it on the drive home?” he joked.
“No. I wasn’t that hungry by the time I got it.”
“Are you sick? Cause you used to eat two of those and some onion rings in one sitting. It was scary.”
“I dunno,” I said dully, “I wanted it and then as I was walking out…” I trailed off.
“What?”
“I ran into Chel. Ran literally right into her in the doorway.”
“Shit. So what happened? Don’t leave me hanging,” Greg said.
“Nothing much. She crashed into my chest, I made sure she didn’t fall down. It had been a minute since I saw her so I asked how the library was, that kind of thing.”
“Did she say lonely because she misses you?” he teased.
“Of course not. She’d never say anything like that. We’ve been over for a long time, and we live in the same town. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
“I call bullshit. You’re talking to the guy who found you with your head over the toilet puking because you dumped your girlfriend when you still loved her. I saw what you looked like that summer, Drew. Don’t try and convince me there’s nothing more to it. Did you at least ask if she’s seeing anybody?”
“No. It was bad enough running into her. She still uses that fucking almond shampoo. Now I know that and I shouldn’t know that. I’m gonna think about it. What am I supposed to do? Walk up to her and go, ‘hey, Chel, remember how much fun we had before I crushed your heart? Well that was all a lie, P.S. I never got over you. Want to go out for a beer?’”
“Offer her the beer first,” Greg advised with a chuckle. “No, it should go more like, ‘I know it’s been a long time, I’d love to get together and catch up. Is tomorrow good?’”
“You make that sound so simple. Like there isn’t a better-than-sixty percent chance of her trying to stab me for the way I treated her.”
“She’s a librarian. Librarians don’t stab people.”
“She knits. Those big-ass needles. That makes me nervous,” I said.
“You afraid she’ll impale you through the heart with a foot-long knitting needle?” he laughed.
“It feels like she already did.”
“She didn’t do shit to you, baby brother. I love you and I’m in your corner, but you’re the one that fucked that up. You and her old man, may he rot in hell.”
“Amen to that,” I said. “I stay out of that neighborhood, but the last time I drove by their old house, I wanted to spit on it.”
“He doesn’t have that kind of power. He never did,” Greg said. “For my part, I don’t see why you can’t try and work it out with her. It’s been a long time. You’re still hung up on her.”
“Don’t act like I spent the last eighteen years kissing a picture of her and being a sad celibate,” I said.
“Hey, no one could accuse you of not trying. I met the exactly two girls you ever brought home to meet the family, including the one that came to my wedding. I’m not saying you have to get married and have kids to be happy. I’m just saying that you always seemed half-hearted whenever you talked about anybody else. I mean, you’re losing your damn mind over smelling her hair. And who the hell sniffs somebody’s hair when you bump into them?”
“It wasn’t a decision. It was instinct. There’s too much history there, and there’s no hope of getting past it. It’s just torture. I’ll forget it in a few days maybe. Or maybe I’ll never go back there for a burger again, or maybe I’ll sit at that bar every night for a week hoping she’ll walk in again. I don’t know, Greg. I don’t know what the hell’s the matter with me.”
“I’d tell you what all’s the matter with you, but we don’t have all night,” he chuckled.
“Very funny,” I said, “nothing like a supportive big brother who always has my back.”
“You don’t listen to me anyway. If you did, you would’ve called her that night when I told you to. You could’ve told her you made a stupid mistake and were sorry. It’s harder to do that when it’s been years. Like, decades, man. Move on or tell her the truth.”
“No way. Some things are better left in the past,” I said.
“Then quit whining and eat your burger. If you’re too chicken shit to talk to the woman, if you’re cowering in fear of her knitting needles or the fact that she has every right to be mad at you, then you’re not the man I thought you were.”
“Thanks, bro,” I said wryly, “nice job kicking me while I’m down.”
“Did you lose the business? You got cancer? No. You’re not down. You’re just upset that you saw your ex in the doorway of a bar. Which makes me think you need closure.”
“Which makes me think you been watching that Oprah channel again.”
“What’s wrong with that? She’s wise.”
“I just wish I could make things right, but I can’t,” I said.
“Why not? It’s bee
n a long damn time,” he replied.
“I can’t explain it. I just know that there’s no coming back from what I said to her, man,” I said.
Greg was right about one thing. I had to get over this and move on once and for all. It affected me way too much just to see her and exchange a few words. After all these years, Michelle Spelling still had some kind of hold on me, No matter how much I wanted to pretend it had been over for a long time.
3
Michelle
I never run late. It’s not who I was. I was famously early or on time. I was annoying about it. But that morning, I was running late. Maybe because I couldn’t sleep for hours and then I tossed and turned and had stupid dreams about high school. Dreams about Drew.
Just because I saw him for a second. Not because I still felt hung up on a high school boyfriend when I was pushing forty harder than I liked to admit. In my dream, he had been teaching me to whistle. First he’d shown me how to make a blade of grass whistle between my fingers. Then, when I was flush with that success, he tried to teach me to whistle the regular way. I had puckered up my lips and blown and sucked air and tried and failed to make the sound. He had teased me and made me laugh, and I tried again and failed again. Then I just made the blade of grass whistle and lay back on the blanket where we had our picnic. I looked up through the tree branches at the patches of blue sky above. Drew stretched out next to me, arms crossed behind his head, and lay there beside me, looking up at the sky and whistling.
So I woke up crying. It wasn’t even a sexy dream. It was a heartbreaking dream about how happy we’d been way back in the day. The dream hadn’t been exactly like any one afternoon we spent together. More like it was similar to dozens or hundreds of them. Sunlight and tall grass and a blanket, and just love and peace overflowing. I imagine that’s what heaven must be like. Being warm and safe and having everything you really want, being loved. So when my throat was tight and there were tears on my pillow, I lay there for a long time trying to quit thinking about him and go back to sleep. When I finally nodded off, I must’ve hit snooze. A couple of times.
Falling in Love: A Secret Baby Romance (Rockford Falls Romance) Page 2
