The radio plays a song we both know, I smile at Kingston as we both sing along. It’s not until the chorus that I remember the lyrics are about losing a friend because of unreciprocated feelings.
My chest feels tight - so much talk about broken hearts and too much eye contact with this man from my past.
As the song finishes, I see a rest-stop up ahead. I'm running on adrenaline by now and the fear of possible suffocation in this tiny car with this big, burly man.
Before I know it, I'm parked under a tree, I've opened the door, and I’m walking to a river that runs along the rest-stop. I bend over, resting my hands on my knees, gulping in air.
Great. I'm having a panic attack in front of Kingston James. Go me.
I hear footsteps approach behind me and feel a hand on my lower back.
“Shhh …” he sounds. “Focus on your breath.”
I lose it slightly, my knees shake and buckle. Kingston catches me with ease and my knees hit the grass. He sits with me.
“Tell me five things you can see.” He shimmies me toward him, my legs between his and his hands on my knees. “Five things you can see, Mae,” he repeats.
“Ummm,” I stammer. “Trees, dirt, grass, you …” I look at him. My breathing slows. “You …”
We're sitting on grass, by a river, surrounded by forest and dirt. I play it over and over in my head.
“I see you, too.” His eyes crease as he smiles at me.
“I wish I could disappear into oblivion right now,” I say softly.
“Can I hug you?” he asks suddenly.
I look at him, confused. He doesn't say anything more. I nod. I move my legs back and he pulls me into him. I’m tight against his chest, again. We stay in this position for a while, and I could fall asleep if I wasn't so viscerally aware of everything that makes up Kingston James. I let myself relax as best I can. I let my breathing ease and the tightness of my body gives in.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper against his chest.
“You don't have to apologize.”
“I had a panic attack. You didn't sign up to deal with my shit.”
“I didn't sign anything.” He chuckles. “I'm here voluntarily.”
“You must be nuts.”
His lip twitches, and there's a moment of silence before he speaks again.
“After I did my shoulder, I figured I would bounce back. I had all these plans - all these expectations. The day the doctor told me I couldn't play anymore, I got up from the chair, thanked him, thanked my coach, and walked out. I didn't look back. Three weeks later I had a panic attack at a charity event. The press said I was drunk. I let them think it. Never wanted to admit that I completely freaked out.”
“I saw that. I’m sorry.”
“Sometimes we think being brave keeps us functioning and together. I think losing it proves that you're human.”
“That terrifies me.”
“We all have shit going on in our lives, Mae. Things we think are flaws. Mine are often plastered across newspapers.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“Human Mae freaked Dale out. He couldn't handle me as anything more than his girlfriend who supposedly had everything planned out and perfect.”
“He didn't deserve you.”
“The press don’t deserve you,” I say in return, scrunching up my face because it doesn't exactly make sense. “You know what I mean.” I nudge him.
We sit in silence for a moment longer, breathing in the fresh air.
“I forgot what a great voice you have,” Kingston says, as if maybe he was meant to think it, but he’s said it out loud. I grumble and rub my face with my hands. “I hate that I forgot that Mae …” He’s frowning. “How did I let myself forget anything about you?” He searches my face.
I can't think of anything to say, so I stare and blink
“It doesn't matter.” I end up whispering.
I get the sense he has more to say, but chooses not to.
We sit for a while longer, watching the river. I'm glad he doesn't try to third-degree me on my panic attack.
When we make our way back to the car, Kingston offers to drive and I'm happy to have time to recalibrate.
Sitting in the passenger seat of a car that used to be mine and Dale’s, and watching it being driven by a man that has had my heart since I was a teenager, has me swirling with a mix of emotions. I steal glances at him every now and then, hoping he doesn't notice.
It would be really nice to be loved by you, I let myself think. And then I shove the thought away, building boundaries and safety nets on top of it.
CHAPTER four
When we arrive in Missoula, Kingston tells me an address and asks me to enter it into my cell. We pull up outside a beautiful house, white with soft gray edgings.
“Is this where you're staying?” I stare out the window at how utterly beautiful it is.
“Yeah we are,” he casually affirms. I frown, turning to him. “You're letting me hitch a ride, so I'll take care of the accommodation from now on,” he says.
I cannot sleep in such close proximity to you! Do you not understand this? Is my first unhealthy thought.
“I – I – I …” I stammer.
“You are staying here. End of story.” His authoritative tone brings me back to reality. This is how we function. This is how we’ve always functioned. He looks out for me, saves me from things my brother can't. He’s offering me a beautiful place to stay.
Accept it. And get on with it.
Inner pep-talk over, I follow him inside. He picks out a room upstairs to the left and I pick the one at the end of the hall that overlooks a park. I let myself fall back on the giant bed and close my eyes.
Fate. Ha.
I hear my cell vibrating in my bag and scurry over to answer it, hoping it's Sammy. We've been missing each other’s calls. My arms turn completely numb the moment I see ‘Dale’ appear on the screen.
I hit the red fluorescent decline button and throw it away from me.
Not now. Don't do this now, Dale. Not when I'm sorting through things. Not when I'm working things out. Not when I'm beginning to feel like myself again.
I busy myself with getting ready for Kingston's gig. I pick out a pale blue wrap dress with tiny white flowers, and match it with my light brown sock boots. I find a curler in the top drawer and attempt to curl my hair.
I'm filling in my eyebrows when I hear Kingston call my name from downstairs. I wander down and hope I haven't overdone my makeup while I was trying to forget dumbdick's call.
I reach the bottom of the stairs at the same time Kingston's midway through asking me if I'm ready. He stops short of finishing his sentence, bows his head quickly, as if he’s trying not to stare.
Oh crap, I overdid it.
“You ready?” he asks again, extremely focused on opening the door.
“Yep.” I step past him.
He shifts around me, grumbles something to himself and follows me out.
◆◆◆
At the bar I watch Kingston set up with the manager and soundie. It’s busier than Coeur D'Alene, so I quickly claim a seat with a perfect view of the stage.
Kingston strums his guitar and there's a little “Whoop” from the crowd.
He offers them his signature boyish grin.
“Sorry about your shoulder!” someone yells.
Kingston laughs it off. “Thanks.” His gruff voice vibrates through the microphone. “All right,” he begins, as he takes a seat on a stool. “Thanks for coming out tonight,” he continues. “So I'm on my way back to Maine at the moment. It's been real nice playing some covers along the way. Also going to play an original tonight.”
Before long, Kingston has everyone up dancing, song after song.
A few women see me sitting alone and drunkenly talk me into dancing with them. I'm sweaty and have a rush from the heated mosh pit. He finishes a song and sits back on the stool.
I gather myself together, standing in the crowd watching him. Kingston l
ooks up, right at me. I smile back at him, beaming with pride. He clears his throat, looks down and back up at me again.
“All right folks. Last two songs of the night. This is, Girl. My first time with this song. Feels like good timing.” The crowd cheers as he begins.
I find my way back to a chair by the bar and watch. Kingston looks up mid-verse and smiles at where I was standing. He notices me gone and does a scan of the room, finding me again as he reaches the chorus.
“Girl, I’ve got 11 seconds to prove I’m worthy,
Got enough regret to fill the sea.
You’ve got the prettiest face from here to Oklahoma
Damn. Ya gotta be kidding me.
Whiskey eyes and come here smile
Sign me up, I’m set for life.
Got 11 seconds to prove I’m worthy
Girl, take a chance on me.”
I ask the barman for a glass of water and continue watching Kingston.
I recall our conversation about heartbreak and how it can feel like you should fight for someone even if deep down you know they're not right for you.
Maybe that works for most things.
In Seattle I was working at a gallery, I thought it was what I wanted. My dream had been to curate, but the longer I worked there, the less I worked on my own art. The less I worked on my own art, the more Dale told me that maybe it wasn't for me, maybe curating was my future. But it no longer felt like it. It felt like I was settling because I was afraid of forging my own dreams.
Kingston was a damn good footballer, but a calm washes over him on stage. He's not trying to prove anything, he just belongs.
He finishes, and the crowd goes crazy, applauding him.
“Last song!” he states. “And.” He stops, his eyes on mine, dipping his head slightly, as if he's asking me to trust him. I freeze. “Like I said, I’m on the road with an old friend at the moment. We got to talking about heartbreak. She also happens to have a beautiful voice and I know she knows this song. So if ya'll can help me welcome her up here - Mae Walker would you do me the honor?”
I stare at him. The crowd follows his gaze.
I'm going to kill him.
I keep a smile plastered on my face, trying not to give away the fact that I want to flee. The crowd hoots around me and I find my legs not working in time with my brain because they've begun walking toward him.
When I reach the stage, he covers his mic, obviously aware I'm going to say something.
“I'm going to kill you,” I whisper through clenched teeth and a smile.
“Save that for later,” he whispers back.
The manager brings out another mic and sits it in front of a second stool.
I sit.
“Mae Walker, everyone!” Kingston booms into his mic, big smile across his face.
They all cheer.
I offer a little wave. “So - I know this song do I, King?” I chide. The crowd laughs, acknowledging that I've been put on the spot.
“I heard you humming it just yesterday.”
I raise my eyebrows at him and smirk.
◆◆◆
I can’t recall much of the song, or the moment. The whole experience is a blur of adrenaline.
Before I know it, it’s late and we’re wandering back to the house, a buzz coursing through me.
“I half hate you, half nearly not so much hate you for tonight.” I throw the words over my shoulder at him and hear him chuckle. “Don’t laugh! I’m serious.” I have a grin on my face.
“Okay. I’m sorry. But, it was fun, right?” he asks.
“Mmmm, fun? There was adrenaline. Adrenaline can be hard to place sometimes, but it definitely felt like pure fear.”
“You were great!” he exclaims.
“Thanks. Don’t do it again. Next time I promise I’ll make a run for it,” I warn.
“You wouldn’t dare.” His voice is low, a hint of humor.
I spin around to face him. He’s closer behind me than I expect him to be. He stops in his tracks, right in front of me. I can feel my breathing pick up.
“Try me. I would.” I stand as straight as I can, pretending I’m braver than I feel.
We stare at each other for what feels longer than socially acceptable for friends.
The wind blows my hair in front of my face and I tuck it behind my ear. I catch Kingston glance at my forearm, the scar in view. This breaks his stupor. He barely shrugs and proceeds to look past me.
“Okay. I promise I won’t ask again,” he says casually.
An old feeling creeps in, an annoyance at how easily he dismisses me.
When we were younger I covered my upset less.
Logan used to say, We don’t have to include you all the time, Mae.
Thing is, I didn’t necessarily want or need to be included, I just couldn’t handle being so easily brushed aside by Kingston. And no one knew. They assumed I hated being left out. So I’d wander off, find the baddest boy in the neighborhood and ask questions about how many condoms he’d stolen from the corner store. My interest would spike his interest, he’d stick around and talk to me about stuff I couldn’t care less about. The boys would get home from doing whatever I was supposedly so angry to be left out of, and they’d wonder where I was. News travels fast in small neighborhoods, Your sister’s talking to that guy who steals condoms from Mack’s Corner Store. My bodyguards would stomp down and demand I go home. I’d end up winning some kind of game they never even knew they were playing.
I turn and walk away, before Kingston can move past me, before he can do the dismissing again. I can’t believe it’s been ten years and more since those days and I’m still feeling the same emotions, and playing out the same games.
I sigh into the breeze.
How do I break the cycle now that I can see it so clearly? And isn’t that the constant question of my life?
I wait by the front door and Kingston ambles up the steps as if my insides aren’t in knots trying to untie the messy figure-eight of past and present. He seems unfazed by us and I guess it makes sense - why would he be fazed by something … someone ... that he doesn’t care about? My whole life from the moment I became besotted with him, has been trying to work out how he truly feels.
I haven’t been completely ignorant that this time around his smiles have lingered longer than they used to. But playing into the notion that he could want me or maybe does, is insufferable. I’ve spent too much time here before. This need to be wanted by him has to end. I’ve never felt for anyone how I feel for Kingston - the anguish. And maybe that’s because it’s never been reciprocated in any way.
Even tonight, staring at one another like we were - whatever was happening in his mind was so easily turned off the moment reality hit:
I am Mae Walker, his best friend’s twin sister, his childhood buddy, who can’t get her life in order. Who will forever be waiting for the moment to be kissed by him.
CHAPTER five
I barely sleep the whole night and by morning I’m begging a miracle shower to work wonders on my exhaustion.
I’m getting dressed when my phone vibrates on the bedside table. ‘Dale’ illuminates the screen, again.
I make a quick decision and answer. “Dale.” I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Mae?”
“Hi.”
“Hey. You picked up.”
“Yeah.” There’s silence. “You didn’t expect me to?”
“I’ve been calling.”
“I know. I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah. I saw.”
“Sorry?” I ask.
“Karla at work sent me a picture of you and Kingston James leaving a motel in Spokane.”
“What?”
“It’s on some trashy online blog.”
I place my cell on the bed beside me and run my hands over my face. I can hear Dale saying my name, muffled.
I pick it back up. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing at a motel with Kingston James?” I can’t help bu
t laugh at the absurdity of his question.
“I think you lost the right to demand anything from me when you cheated on me and kicked me out.” He sighs on the other end. I continue. “You know I’ve known him since I was a kid. He’s driving back to Maine, too.”
“Coincidence …” he half mumbles.
“Is that all you were calling for, Dale?”
“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but wonder if his apologies always sounded this fake.
I’m silent as I try to sort through the moment, when there’s a knock at my door.
“One second,” I say into the phone and place it on the bed.
I open the door to see Kingston turning away. “Hey.” He spins back to me.
“Hey.”
“Time to leave?” I ask.
“Yeah. You okay?” His brow creases.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. I’ll be down soon.”
I close the door and sit back on the bed. “I have to go, Dale.”
“Mae, please, can we talk?”
“Did she leave you?” I ask.
He coughs uncomfortably. “It wasn’t going to work.” I know he means with her, but it’s a sentence he’s used on me before. “You and I are too suited. We’re too right for each other.” I’m beyond shell-shocked by his admission and the audacity he has after everything that has happened. “Mae?” he asks.
“Dale. Honestly. If you had asked me two months ago I would have been back on your doorstep in seconds, out of pure belief that I had to fight for us. If you had asked me one month ago I probably would have given it a thought, only to decide that it would be a dismally dumb decision. I will never, hand on my heart, come back to you. You were toxic for me in every way possible. But I do wish the best for you and I honestly hope you’ve learnt something from this. You cannot go around treating people you’re meant to love in this way.” I pause, waiting for him to say something.
He doesn’t.
“Please be kinder to the people in your life, Dale.” And I hang up.
What.The.Fuck.Just.Happened?
I carry my bag downstairs - my hands shake and my knees feel like jelly.
When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine Page 3