Authors: Molli Moran
One Song Away (15 page)
“I don’t think you lost him.” Sloane’s eyes hold mine, but I look away.
“Yes, I have. And the sooner I get used to that, the sooner I can move on.”
But the new tears sliding down my cheeks tell another story.
I’m twenty-two years old, but right now, I’m curled up in my mom’s bed with my head in her lap. I’m supposed to be at work, but I called out this morning and no one asked me any questions. So here I am. Crying so hard that my chest aches. Mama keeps stroking my hair, probably trying to lull me to sleep so I’ll finally get some rest, but I can’t sleep.
I keep flashing back to last night. To Jake’s hands on my body, to his mouth on mine. To my confession and the aftermath. To the silence I wanted to slash and tear and burn. To the shards of what’s left of my voice. I could only speak in a hoarse voice to Mama when I got here. She doesn’t even know what happened, but she hasn’t asked, either.
She starts humming one of the songs she used to sing to me when I was little and scared and sad. It helps me breathe. I quiet enough that I hear the sound of the door opening. Cassidy is there, in pajamas that make her look younger than she is. Her eyes aren’t as puffy as mine probably are, but I can tell that she’s cried more since we got here. She crosses the room slowly, pulling a blanket off Mama’s hope chest as she makes her way over to me. Once she reaches the bed, she settles in beside me and lies down facing me. I look into her eyes, and I feel as young as she is.
“I know it sounds ridiculous for me to say this,” she says slowly, “considering what I know about life goes about as deep as a thimble, but I think you’re going to be okay.”
“You do?” I whisper. It’s all I can mange.
Cass nods, wrapping the blanket around both of us. “Yeah, I do. Ever since I was born, you and Wes have been there for me, and you’ve been my heroes. I’ve watched y’all get into situations I didn’t know how you’d get out of, but you always managed it. I watched you take risks, and grow. And that was all I ever wanted to be. Fearless, resilient, brave. Just like my big brother and sister.”
“Even though I’m a hot mess right now?” I produce a weak laugh that feels paper-thin to me.
Nodding, Cassidy takes my hands in hers. “Even when you’re a hot mess, you’re still the fiercest person I know. Wes taught me how to change a flat tire, how to play basketball, and how to knee a guy where it hurts. Mama taught me how to cook and how to be kind. Daddy taught me how to drive. But you, Sophie, you taught me how to be strong. I watched you to go Nashville and start a totally new life. If you were scared, you
never
showed it. And then you came back here and made the most of it. And you gave your whole heart to Jake, even though you knew the situation was complicated.”
I let out a hiccup-sob and squeeze my sister’s hand.
Cassidy snuggles closer. “And that’s brave. That’s
damn
brave. I’m sad for you, Sophie, but you
tried
. You did. And that’s braver than most people
ever
are. So yes. I still look up to you. I still want to be like you.”
Mama has been silent through all this, but now, she sighs. “Perhaps just not as many tattoos.” I glance at her, and her sparkling gaze holds mine.
Last night, I never thought I’d laugh again. But now I feel a belly laugh coming—a laugh you can’t tame. It just has to be let out, simply because it feels good. The kind of laugh that ends with your stomach hurting. I can choose to be happy, for just this one moment, or I can choose not to be. It’s a simple decision, and it’s all mine. So I open my mouth and a giggle emerges.
Impossibly, it feels good. I slept fitfully last night, so I had a lot of time to think. I thought about how I don’t
have
to be okay today or tomorrow or next week. About how
I
will determine when I’m healed and my timeline is the only important one. No one is expecting me to be magically better, and it’s
okay
if I’m
not
okay.
If there’s a ton of heartache to wade through until then, that’s as it should be. I can’t shut down while I heal. I can’t stop living.
I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I don’t know if Jake and I will find some way to stay friends or acquaintances, or if what we had is over. There’s no telling know how long it will be before I can look at him and not think about kissing him. I know my heart will never, ever be the same, and I don’t know when it will heal.
But until then, I have to keep living. Even if it’s hard. Even if it’s just one scared step at a time.
I slowly untangle myself from the blanket. Sitting up, I face my mom. Even though the expression feels shaky and scary, I try to smile. “Mama,” I say, clearing my throat, “would it be too much trouble if I ask you to make Cassidy and me some pancakes?”
My mom smiles. “Nothing is too much trouble for my girls.”
___ ___ ___
When I finally go downstairs, I smell coffee and pancakes, and I put some “pep in my step”, as my mom would say. I showered for what felt like days, as if the hot water could wash away both my exhaustion and my trepidation. My plan is to open up to Mama and Cassidy over brunch. I know they’ll be upset, but I hope they won’t be disappointed in me. Logically, I know they probably won’t be, but…
Why is it that growing up brings its own fears? Moving out, making adult decisions, grown-up relationships—it’s all amazingly freeing, but so huge, too. I want so dearly to do right by my upbringing. To succeed in whatever I do. To make my family and friends proud. And inherent in that desire lies the fear of letting them down, even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong.
I don’t feel as brave as my little sister thinks I am, but in time, I’d like to be.
Mama and Cassidy are talking when I enter the room, and since their backs are half-turned to me, they don’t see me. I lean against the threshold and listen to them. They’re discussing Cassidy’s boyfriend, Elijah, and how much Mama likes him. Unlike me, Cassidy will be happy about this. When I was her age, I wanted to date the wildest guys I could find. I dated some good guys who happened to be bad boys, and I dated some losers. I think Jake broke one guy’s nose.
Cass is different, though. She’s softer than I am, strong in a different way. It took leaving to grow into who I’m meant to be, and I think it took coming back to realize that I already
am
the best version of myself. Or at least I’m getting there.
Watching them, I smile. Cassidy is animated, her cheeks dusted with a blush and a smile. Mama is talking with her hands like she does, waving and flapping and gesturing. It’s such a heartwarming picture that I want to freeze-frame this moment. Cassidy is a wonderful contrast to me. She’s just now learning about love. I know too much.
I frown, realizing my mom has gone quiet. When I glance at her, she’s watching me. Her eyes are like an oncoming worry-storm, so I shake my head gently.
“It’s okay, Mama. You don’t have to tiptoe around me.” Hoisting myself onto a stool at the counter, I grin. “I think you were talking about how polite Elijah is.”
That’s all it takes. Mama chatters as she flutters around the kitchen. She’s doing everything: mixing batter for the last batch of pancakes, setting the island with plates and silverware, checking on the bacon in the oven, and generally making me feel like a lazy ass. I try to jump in twice, but we almost collide both times, so I step out of the way and let Hurricane DeeDee work.
She finally takes a breath once Cassidy and I are eating. She fixes her own plate, sitting with what sounds suspiciously like a happy sigh.
“You have a sickness,” I say through a mouthful of bacon. “You do too much.”
She waves my words away with her fork. “Never you mind, Sophie-Claire Wright.” Her blue eyes are dancing. “If I didn’t love what I do, I wouldn’t do it.” She shrugs, and sips her juice.
I swallow a bite of my food, and then put down my silverware. “So. I’m sure you’re both wondering what happened…”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Cassidy says quickly. I love her for worrying about me, but I think I need to do this.
“No, I want to.” I take another bite of pancake, but my stomach chooses this moment to rebel. I know I can’t eat any more of the food, no matter how yummy it is.
“Okay, but if it gets to be too much…”
“Cass.” I smile at her, grabbing her hand for a squeeze. “It’s okay.” Pushing away my plate, I clear my throat. “Well, I guess I should start with a confession: Jake and I weren’t really dating.”
“What?” Mama almost drops her glass.
“Not at first,” I say quickly. I tell them the whole sordid story as succinctly as I can. I leave out some of the details, but give them the gist. When I’m done, I chance a look at my mom and sister. Mama looks thunderstruck. Cassidy is frozen, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes are wide. I’ve shocked her. She’s probably ready to take back everything she said about me earlier. Clearly, neither of them knows what to say.
“I was in love with him when we were teenagers.” I blow out a breath, but neither of them seems surprised by my admission. “And I don’t know why I thought it would be any different now. Maybe I figured I’m an adult, and I wouldn’t fall for him…but I did. I just…I thought with him, it would be easy. Y’all would approve of him, and…of
me
.”
That day in Freshly Ground seems so long ago, but it’s only been a few months. In that time, I’ve made friends, worked and supported myself while living on my own, written songs, and fallen in love. I let someone break my heart. And I’ve also started to really see who I am and that I don’t have to let that heartbreak define me. I let my love for Jake define me for so long, but getting over him doesn’t have to. Doesn’t
get
to.
“Anyway, last night we talked, and the things he said made it seem like we were really together.” I lose the battle with the tears finally. “I decided to confess. I told him I loved him. I told him I’d always loved him, but that this time felt more real, more mature. And he…” My voice is a wobbling mess I don’t know how to fix. “He just didn’t say anything. At all. Just nothing. So, I left.”
For a few seconds, I cry quietly. I’ve cried loudly during the last week. I’ve sobbed. Screamed. Broken things. Now, I don’t have any rage or any noise left. Just silence. And I’d rather have the noise. It’s a blanket. It’s a comfort. It blocks out the humiliation and the fear, and everything else I’ve barricaded myself from. I know I’m going to be okay, but the silence makes me panic about just how I’ll get there.
Then I feel Mama’s arms around me, followed by Cassidy’s. The noise rushes back in, and it’s so
loud
. Cassidy’s sniffle sounds like thunder. My breathing sounds like a scream.
“I
love
him,” I say. “And he doesn’t love me. My whole life, I’ve loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to love me. How do I just let go of all that? Of him?” I feel like a thousand broken pieces scraping against one another.
Mama kisses my cheek, her perfume surrounding me. “It won’t be easy, but you’ll do it day by day. And we’ll be here for you every step of the way.” Her arms tighten. “And my darlin’, you need to know I have always been proud of you.
Always
.”
“Me too.” Cassidy squeezes both of us, sniffling as she does.
Somehow, I find the strength to believe them.
My apartment is full of sound. Brenna and Cassidy have a karaoke machine they borrowed from work cranked up in the corner, and they’re singing something pop-ish and loud. They’ve been at it for about twenty minutes now. Brenna can sing. My little sister, much as I love her, is another story. Sloane has the blender going with another round of margaritas in the making. Mina is talking to me, but all I want to do right now is escape from it all. It’s too much. Too much noise, too many thoughts.
I felt okay earlier today when I left Mama’s, but that was because my belly was full of good food, and I had stockpiled hugs so I could make it through the day. Somehow, I went to work and made it through my shift. Miraculously, I didn’t break down in public or make any orders wrong. The one time I made eye contact with Jake, I escaped to the bathroom before I lost my cool. Even then, I didn’t do more than let a few tears fall before I cleaned myself up, thanked God for waterproof mascara, and went back to work.
I’m not at work now, though. I don’t have to paste a smile on my face. I don’t have to listen to customers telling me their life story because I asked if they wanted low-fat or regular milk. I don’t have to keep moving because I’m afraid of what will happen when I stop. I don’t have to pretend to be okay, and I don’t have to be
strong
.
“I don’t even know if you’re listening to me,” Mina says. Wearily, I turn my head toward her. Whatever she sees in my expression must shock her, because she cringes, but she covers well.
“What?” I try to put my mask back in place. If I’m scaring my friends without it, it must be worse than I thought. “I’m sorry, Mina.”
She shakes her head. “No, SC, don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot recently.” Scooting closer to me on the couch, she grips my hand. “I was just bullshitting. But please don’t shut us out or think we can’t handle what you’re going through. We all have stories. We’ve all been hurt.” Ducking her head, she chases my gaze. “Maybe I can help you, or Sloane can, or Bren. We
want
to help.”
Smiling is one of the most painful things I’ve done in a while, but I do it anyway. It’s small, and it hurts, but it’s real. “We all go through things, but I shouldn’t be a shitty friend. I’m listening now. And I won’t shut you guys out.” I wave a hand around the room, encompassing everything. “I agreed to this, didn’t I?”
The sleepover was Cassidy’s idea. She sent me home from our mom’s house with orders to rest. I didn’t think I would, but the next thing I remember is waking about six hours later to a clean apartment and a fresh pot of coffee. I gave Cass a spare key a few weeks ago, and she put it to good use today. She did my dishes, swept my floors, sorted through my mail, and folded my laundry.
The only thing she couldn’t do was put me back together.
As I sipped my coffee and realized that my little sister is actually an angel in disguise, she informed me we were having a girls’ only sleepover. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I agreed. I’ve been “on” all day, but tonight is different. I’m not afraid to be alone. I’ve been there and I’ve conquered that particular fear, but right now, I don’t really
want
to be alone. And with my friends, I can just be
me
. Tonight, they’re getting the me in yoga pants and no makeup. The me that’s a finger-slip away from crashing and burning.
“I’m really glad you let us come over and hang with you.” Mina smiles at me, then excuses herself to go to the bathroom.
Once she’s gone, I glance around the room. No one is watching me. I slide my cell out of my pocket, and with a catch in my breathing, I do what I haven’t dared to all day. I’ve been surrounded except for the hours I slept, so I haven’t checked for any texts or voicemails from Jake. I’m equally terrified that he will and won’t have tried to get in touch with me. Today at Freshly Ground, neither of us spoke. I was carrying stock, and he had his arms full of paperwork. When I came out of the bathroom, he was in his office. He didn’t come out the rest of my shift.
Now, I unlock my phone. I have new texts and a voicemail. They texts all from Coop. When I scroll through, I realize that they start last night. Was it just last night?
Claire—please call me when you get this. We need to talk about what happened.
Please call me or text me. Please. I’m so sorry.
Claire, sweetheart…
I stop reading and sit with my phone in my hand. When I look down at my hand, it’s trembling, but none of it means anything. He’s been reaching out to me since I left, but I don’t know what that means. Does he want to tell me that he’s sorry? Does he have some sort of explanation that will somehow fix this? What could he
ever
say to fix this? He once built Cassidy a tree house, and it was solid enough to hold three friends and me a few years later for a sleepover. But this isn’t something a hammer and nail can repair.
I wait for the tears, but they aren’t there. I guess I’m finally out of tears. Instead, someone sits beside me and takes my phone out of my hand. When I look up, it’s into Sloane’s dark eyes. And there are enough tears there to make up for the ones I’m not crying.
“Sophie.” She says my name very quietly. “You went so pale. Texts from Jake?”
I nod, because I don’t trust myself to speak. I hear the soft sounds of tapping on a screen, and I wait, my head bowed, while Sloane reads the text messages. When she finishes, she lifts the phone to her ear, and dials my voicemail. We know each other’s passwords, so this isn’t a big deal. But the minute it takes her to listen to the message
is
a huge deal. It’s more important than I can say.
“Do you want to listen to it?” Her voice is still so soft. So tender.
“No.” My voice is falling apart in contrast to hers, all jagged sounds. “Just tell me what he said.” The slow hiss from Sloane tells me she’s sighing. I meet her gaze. “Tell me, Sloane.”
“The texts are all him asking to talk. In the voicemail, he said he realized you probably weren’t seeing his texts. That he wants to see you and explain what happened.” She pauses. “He said the two of you have a lot to talk about.”
I take my phone back from her and turn it off for the night. The latest text was just before I went to work; hopefully he got
my
message: I don’t
want
to talk to him. I’m not ready. Not yet. And I’m honestly not sure when I
will
be ready. This is new territory. I’m ground zero. I’m ashes.
“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll talk to him when I can do it without breaking.”
Sloane nods, but I can tell she has more to say. “Soph, I understand that, but maybe…”
“No.” I slash through the rest of what she wants to say. My voice is cutting, but I can’t temper myself. “No, Sloane. I don’t
want
to fucking talk to him!”
The karaoke machine goes quiet. I hear a sharp intake of breath from one of the girls, and Sloane physically recoils. My voice is angry. Livid.
I’m
angry. I’m so fucking angry. I feel used. I feel gullible. I feel
stupid
. I went all the way, expecting Jake to meet me, and he left me there, strung out like a wire after I took down my walls. I took the biggest, scariest chance of my life, and there’s nothing Jake Cooper can say to change his rejection. He made his choice.
I stand because sitting still feels like dying.
“I’ve loved him since we were kids. When I left, I put it all away, where I wouldn’t think about him. Then this stupid, fake relationship happened.” I swipe at my eyes as I pace. “I let myself get caught up in it, and I was stupid enough to think it was real, when it was just a goddamn act to Jake.” My voice catches, the syllables falling around me like broken glass. “It wasn’t fake to
me
.”
“Sophie—”
“He may want to talk, but I don’t have anything to
say
. Not until I’m calmer, until I can
breathe
.”
Every time I blink, another memory surfaces, and I want to burn all of them. Jake sneaking in my window the morning of my sixteenth birthday to give me the bracelet he bought me. Teaching me to horseback ride, sitting behind me so I wouldn’t be scared. Jumping in his pool after prom. Riding the strip on weekends with him. Cooking with him. The night we danced. Our kisses. He’s
everyfreakingwhere
.
How can I rip him out of my memories when he’s in so
many
of them?
“Jake…” My voice wavers. “Normally I’d let him break my heart one thousand times. He’d do it without even meaning to.” I lace my hands together, missing how he made sure to always hold mine. “But not anymore. I’m done letting my heart get broken, even if it’s partially because of me. I’m taking it back finally, so I can somehow start healing.”
Without saying a word, Sloane walks to me and holds me. I don’t speak, and neither does she, not even when I finally start crying. I’m not sure there’s anything left to say. She rocks me back and forth when I shudder. And when I hold her tighter than she’s holding me, she doesn’t even flinch or ask me to loosen my embrace. She just keeps hugging me. When Mina, Cassidy, and Brenna join in, we stand there quietly, a huge circle, one heart beating together. No one speaks. No one leaves the hug. This isn’t the kind that requires words. It’s the sort where you hug and let someone hug you—for as long as necessary.
There’s nothing to say, no way to make this letting go easier. I’ve loved Jake for almost half my life. It might take that long to get over him, to stop hoping for what isn’t meant to be. I’m not even sure I know where to start. How to take back my peace of mind. How to knit my heart back together when my hands are shaking too badly to hold the needle. But with my friends, somehow, I’ll make it through this. Whatever happens, I’ll survive.