“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“You’ve got that tone.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
I scoffed at her insinuation. “Alright, and what tone might that be?”
“The something-is-really-fucking-wrong tone.”
“It’s nothing, I promise.”
“Okay. Well, if you change your mind, just call me back.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up feeling more confused and stressed than when I first called. I should’ve told her about all the thoughts having one hell of a rave party inside my head, but she had enough on her plate. There was no need for me to add to her burdens. This was something I needed to figure out for myself, even if she did have advice to offer. At the end of the day, it was my life. I was the artist holding the paintbrush, and I would have to be the one to decide what to create.
Doubt swelled in my throat. What was I doing? I should drive back to his place and beg for forgiveness. Then again . . . I didn’t know how to love someone without abandon. In the grand scheme of things, I had nothing to offer Ry. His heart was a selfless one. He would give and give and give until there was nothing left. There was no way I could force such a fate on him. An act of that magnitude would be unforgiveable.
If I put a stop to the connection we shared before it could grow any further, my pain and his would be so much less. He could find someone else, someone who could give him everything he wanted without fear or hesitation. That’s what Ry truly deserved. After everything his dad had put him through, he should be loved unconditionally. And the woman who was able to do that wasn’t me. She wasn’t someone so frightened of experiencing love that she closed in on herself just when the hope of something more seemed possible. She would be the type of person who chased after what she wanted without a single shred of fear.
I wished I could be her. I tried to be her.
But I was pretending. This wasn’t some fairytale that would have a happy ending. This was the real world, and sometimes in the real world, things don’t work out like you expect or like you hope.
A flurry of emotions continued to rage inside me like a typhoon. I tried to take a quick minute for meditation, to silence the storm, but it still persisted. My body was being pulled in two different directions. I was near the breaking point. A few more pounds of pressure and I’d split, never to be whole again.
I understood pain and loss, felt it within every fiber of my being. But if I allowed this thing between us to progress, I’d never recover from losing Ry.
When life was unpredictable, the only certainty you could count on was loss. Things, people, and lives could be ripped away in the blink of an eye. People always preached that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. But was that alternative really preferable? The best artists were always inspired by their tumultuous lives. Desire, love, obsession, jealousy, and death—the lives of Da Vinci, Van Gogh, Picasso, Kahlo, and Degas were ruled by every emotion known to man.
Mom would want me to fall in love. She would want me to experience the happiness of surrendering your heart to another. But she never saw what happened to Dad after she was gone. She didn’t hear him sobbing in his bedroom late at night after he had assumed I’d gone to sleep. The fragmented remnants of the man she’d married would never be whole again. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days as nothing more than a broken shell.
I’d rather be alone.
My knuckles blanched as I gripped the steering wheel. This was day one. Tomorrow would be easier.
No sooner than I had the thought, my phone began to ring. The sound jarred the silence of my car and I jumped in response. Whatever shred of positivity had entered my mind was destroyed. Ry’s name covered the screen. Chewing on my bottom lip, my fingers trembled as I declined his call. Was he already back at his apartment? Had he found my note?
More tears fell as I declined his call three more times. However, persistence was Ry’s strong suit.
Ry: Ter, you know the note you left is bullshit, and so is running away. Talk to me. Whatever hesitations you have, we can work through them together.
Ry: I’m headed to Wren’s. My gut tells me that’s the first place you would go.
If he was headed here, then I needed to leave as soon as possible. I didn’t have the nerve to face him yet. And when he realized I wasn’t at Wren’s apartment, I had no doubts that he would head for my dorm.
Throwing my car in reverse, I sped out of the parking lot and made a beeline for the interstate. There was only one place left for me to go.
I STARED AT THE door to my childhood home. Perhaps I was being overly dramatic, but this was the only place I could think to escape. Ry wouldn’t be able to follow me here. He had no idea where my dad’s house was, and I could only pray Wren wouldn’t tell him where to find me.
Walking through the red front door, I passed through the kitchen and carried everything up the stairs to my room. The sage-colored walls were a source of comfort for me, a reminder that I was in a safe place. Discarding my things on the bed, I made my way to the bathroom just down the hall. The large tub was calling my name. If I soaked for long enough, maybe my troubles would rise into the air and evaporate like steam. Turning the faucet, I added a dash of my favorite lavender-scented bubble bath and waited for the tub to fill.
Lowering myself into the scalding liquid, I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything about this house was reassuring. It may have only been a couple hours from campus, but it felt as if I had traveled to another world. For once, I did the wise thing and left my phone on my bed. No good would come from staring at Ry’s text messages for hours on end. Did he understand how difficult it was for me to leave? I wondered if he could see the tearstains marring the note I’d left.
I’m sorry, but I was wrong. I can’t hand myself over to someone after all.
My hand had trembled as I scrawled those sentences. Tears had poured from my eyes and dotted the ink in varying places. I was surprised the note was even legible. Even more surprising was that despite the fact I’d bailed, he still wanted to see me. Ry believed my hesitations could be fixed. But he was wrong.
We both were.
I stayed in the tub until the skin on my toes wrinkled and the water turned cold. I was officially the worst person on the face of the earth. But nevertheless, I had still chased after Ry. I’d flirted with him relentlessly, shook my ass on him when we went out for Halloween, and almost kissed him at least half a dozen times. The fault lies with me, and despite the fact I knew to keep my distance, I still gave in to temptation.
The slight relief the bath had provided was annihilated the moment I checked my phone. I had four missed calls. Two were from Wren and two from Ry. And that wasn’t even including all the text messages.
I’d have to face the firing squad sooner or later, so I might as well get it over with.
Wren: What the hell is going on? Ryan called me almost in a panic, and after your phone call this morning, I’m a bit worried. I know you’ve been preoccupied with this upcoming show, so I told him you’ve locked yourself away to paint for a few days. That is what’s going on, right?
Ry: I know you’re scared. Hell, I am too.
Wren: Answer your damn phone, bitch. Love you.
Ry: If we took things too fast, let me know. Whatever it is, just talk to me. I’m here for you. Always.
Always.
That word was a promise. It’s meaning carried more weight than other words, just like lovely, yours, and forever did. Was he even aware of the impact such a declaration had?
I only replied to Wren, because there was nothing to say to Ry. And the sooner he realized he didn’t need me, the better. It wouldn’t be long until he found someone worthy of him.
Pulling my robe tighter around me, I collapsed on my bed to read the remaining texts.
Wren: See my previous text for i
nstructions. Seriously, the two of you are going to give me an ulcer.
Ry: I stand by what I said in my last message, but you have to talk to me.
The scent of lavender clung to my skin. Rolling over, I buried my face in the closest pillow I could find. But really, I was just delaying the inevitable. After a few minutes, I exhaled and pushed up to lean on my elbow. Tapping on Wren’s name, I prepared myself for the sass that was sure to come hurtling through the phone. The girl was basically a walking, talking, breathing ball of sassiness—which actually sounded like a pretty good description of myself too.
“About fucking time,” she hissed.
“I’m sorry.”
“What the actual hell is going on, Ter?”
“I had a lot of shit swirling around inside my head and I figured it would be best to get out of town for a few days.”
“Right.”
“I still have a few paintings I need to finish before the art show, and I guess the pressure was just getting to me. I want to make something worthy of Jonas’s praise.”
What was one more little white lie? It wasn’t like my nose was going to start growing Pinocchio-style or anything. Not that having a tree branch for a nose could make this mess even worse.
“Do you even believe the things coming out of your mouth?”
“What do you want to know, babe?” I questioned in an exasperated tone. “Ry and I spent the past few days together and it made me realize that I was getting in over my head. You know I like him, but you also know my heart won’t let me get too involved. I’m a coward, have been since Mom died.”
Her heavy sigh was full of emotion. “You’ve been through a lot, and if you feel the need to protect yourself, then I can certainly understand that. Letting yourself care for someone on that kind of level is a risk. But Ryan is one of those guys you don’t let slip away.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I replied, choking on my words.
“It’s not, but I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you missed the chance to be with someone truly special.”
“We aren’t meant to be.”
“And you know that how?”
A lone tear meandered down the surface of my cheek. “I just do.”
“Right.” A few seconds of silence elapsed between us. “Look, you know I’m here for you no matter what, but I would hate it if you passed up the chance to be happy. That’s all I want for you, babe. I want you to live without regrets and hesitation. You’re an artist and that means you see the world in a completely different way than me. You find beauty in things I wouldn’t look at twice, but I don’t want you to look back on your life one day and wish you would’ve taken a chance on Ryan.”
“I know, but—”
“Letting him go is the kind of regret you don’t outgrow or forget.”
“Again, you make it sound so easy. Like I can simply undo the defense mechanisms that my brain put in place the moment I watched Mom’s coffin lower into the ground. Believe me, I’ve tried to take risks. I want to change and open up my heart to someone, I just can’t.”
“I know how hard it is for you.”
“Do you?”
“I won’t pretend to understand the loss you’ve suffered. I mean, I still have my mom, but I do know that you stop yourself from opening up to people because you’re afraid of getting hurt. But those of us who haven’t lost anyone have those exact same fears. We’re all in the same boat, and the only way you get out of it is if you take the plunge and risk safety for something even better.”
“So you’re saying there’s something better than safety?”
“There are a lot of things that are better.”
“You seem so certain.”
“My parents have it and yours did too. The time they had together wasn’t long, but it was still filled with love. They were happy.”
“Not at the end.”
“Babe, you’re only remembering the bad things.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“The fact that suffering through those hard times was worth the love your parents shared.”
I huffed loudly. Verbalizing something and actually doing it were two very different things. “And you know this how?”
“Because your dad told my parents. They were all friends for years, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“I won’t tell you how to live your life. What you decide to do is up to you.”
“Really?” I asked in a hushed voice. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve told you how to live your life before.”
“That’s because you’re a pain in the ass.”
Her response lived up to its purpose and managed to make me laugh a little. “Thanks for listening to me.”
“Any time you need to clear your head, you know I’m here.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“Call me tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.”
Dropping my phone on the bed beside me, I released a long breath. Everything she said was right. I understood the fault rested solely on me. Wren wasn’t the only person in my life encouraging me to take risks. Dad and Jonas expressed the same sentiments, but just as I felt strong enough to weather the oncoming storm, I caved. Rolling over, I stared at the picture that had always decorated the table next to the bed. Mom’s eyes were always the first feature to jump out at me. The bright blue was the exact same shade as mine. So much of her was reflected in my face. From the slope of my smile to the tip of my nose, I was practically a mirror image of her, except for the one thing I didn’t inherit.
Her lust for life was second to none. Mom and Dad went on adventures together that I could only dream of. Once, when they were still in college, they’d decided to jump in the car and drive all the way to California together. Even though they barely had any money, they managed to reach the west coast. That kind of spontaneity was awe-inspiring. They’d lived in the moment and for one another. There was some truth to Wren’s statement. My mind did tend to focus on the rough times and the chemo treatments. The shadow cast in her absence blotted out all the years filled with joy and laughter.
I stared at her picture for hours, completely lost in thought. Across from me, the sky darkened outside the window. It seemed the gloomy clouds from Knoxville had followed me all the way here. Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder disrupted the silence of the house. Drops of rain pelted the glass. There was something so cathartic about listening to the rain. The simple monotony was soothing, and I needed something to combat my tumultuous thoughts . But for once, my brain admitted defeat. Wrapped in a fluffy robe and lulled into a state of tranquility by the growing storm, my eyes closed and I slept.
My room was drenched in darkness when I finally awoke. The sound of the front door slamming shut forced me to my feet.
“Hey, angel,” Dad called out. “I didn’t know you were coming in for a visit.” I listened as his footsteps thudded up the steps. Within a matter of seconds, he appeared in my doorway.
“I decided to come get away for a few days.”
“Classes getting to ya?”
I shrugged and dropped my gaze. “Something like that.”
His head bobbed in understanding. “Well, I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I walked into his outstretched arms. There was something about the way he hugged me that made me feel like everything would be okay. That was the power of any father or mother. Their presence could quiet even the strongest storm. I held on to Dad like he was my only remaining lifeline.
“I see you brought your paints. Are you going to be working on projects for the art show all weekend or will you have a little bit of time to spend with your old man?”
I socked him on the chest. “I need to finish a few pieces, but you know I always have time for you. And you still look pretty good. I’d hardly classify you as old.”
“That’s why you’ll always be
my favorite daughter.”
My eyes rolled in a perfect circle. “You always say that, and I always remind you that I’m your only daughter.”
Laughter caused his chest to vibrate. “Are you hungry? I can start some dinner while you change.”
“That sounds good.”
“Is spaghetti okay?” he questioned.
“Absolutely!”
He turned to head for the door. “Alright, I’ll see you downstairs.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
With a parting wink, he closed the door behind him. Walking over to my dresser, I threw on the first underwear set and pair of sweatpants I could lay my hands on. If Dad was making pasta for dinner, then I would need as much wiggle room as possible. He may not have been able to make as many different things as Mom once could, but the man knew how to make a delicious Italian dish. After throwing on a baggy T-shirt and running a brush through my long locks, I raced for the kitchen.
The smell of garlic flooded my senses the moment I stepped on the tile floor. Tomato sauce bubbled on top of the stove. Walking over, I grabbed a wooden spoon and began to stir. My infamy for being a terror in the kitchen was known far and wide, so this was the only way I was allowed to help. As I was stirring, Dad sprinkled a handful of fresh basil into the sauce.
“Would you rather have a salad or garlic bread?” he asked, checking on the boiling noodles.
I gave him a knowing look. Usually, I loved a good salad, but after the day I’d had, the more carbs, the better.
He chuckled at my response. “Okay, bread it is.”
“And we’re going to need some wine too.”
“Of course.” Dad tossed a loaf of garlic bread into the oven while the sauce simmered. When he finished draining the noodles, he turned to face me. “You know, I’ve raised you from the time you were in diapers and I can always tell when something is bothering you.”
Pursing my lips together, I nodded. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only to me.”
“And Wren and Ry apparently,” I muttered under my breath.
“It’s just as I suspected.”
My head snapped upward fast enough to make my neck look like a damn rubber band. “What did you suspect?”
Not Without You Page 18