by Tori Fox
The feeling of her hands on me has my dick stirring. She seems to have this effect on me more and more often. “Fine. I won’t call you that. I’ll just call you Mayberry.”
“Mayberry?”
I push a piece of hair behind her ear. “You know the ideal, perfection.”
She scrunches her nose at me. “Isn’t it a town?”
“I think it can also mean someone who is beautiful when they don’t know they are.”
I can’t believe I said those words out loud. I blame the whiskey.
We stare at each other. The tension in the room amping up as I fight the urge to pull her mouth to mine.
She is still sitting on my lap so I very carefully slide her off before we both regret our decisions. “So what else does the letter say?” I ask, changing the subject again.
She squints at the paper. “Something about come home and your sister… fuck this.” She jumps off the floor and walks in front of the lit fireplace. “I don’t need this in my life.” She throws the letter in and we both watch it go up in flames.
“Feel better?”
She shrugs then giggles. “I just mostly feel drunk.”
“Maybe we should call it a night.”
A fire erupts in her eyes as she looks at me. “I very much would like to call it a night with you.”
She is drunker than I thought. I know she would never suggest spending the night with me. She jumped away like she was stung by a bee when we almost kissed. “How about I get you in bed?”
A sly grin crosses her face. “You going to join me?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “Not tonight, Mayberry.”
That adorable pout crosses her face again and if she wasn’t so drunk I would want nothing more than to bite on that full lip.
She stomps off to her bedroom, pulling her sweatshirt off as she goes.
I follow her into the room. The only intention I have to make sure she gets into bed.
When I walk in she is face down on her pillow and I can’t help but laugh. This woman is doing something to my dead heart.
I push her into the center of her bed and pull the sheets up to her chin. I press a soft kiss to her forehead and whisper, “Goodnight Mayberry.”
I shut her lights off and close the door to her room. I clean the pizza up, wrapping it in foil and placing it in her refrigerator.
I wake up Brutus and leave her home, making sure the door is locked as I leave. That weird feeling hits my chest again. And I realize it’s my heart waking up from the coma I put it in five years ago.
13
Anna
I nurse a beer as I sit next to Mason in his studio.
“You look like shit. You sure you don’t want something stronger?”
I shake my head as I try to replay the melody I just thought of but I keep messing it up.
“Rough night?”
No way. Well, I drank way too much, I think to myself. But sitting around with Noah was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. Neither of us talked about what’s weighing each other down besides the letter burning. We talked about the most random shit in the world and the last time I remember having such a good time was with Kyle.
I learned Noah loves to take his International Harvester Scout out into the mountains but hasn’t in a while, I am going to try to make him take me out when spring comes. Noah also loves his family more than anything, is super committed to his job with the police force and cannot wait to become a detective, and he hates running, even though he does it almost every day, he sees it as a commitment to his job. He hates pickles, loves the color orange, and has never been to Disney World. I can’t help but be attracted to him, it’s more than just his drop-dead gorgeous face and body. He’s smart, genuine, loyal. He is someone you want to have your back. And I wouldn’t mind getting to know him between the sheets either.
Fuck, maybe I do need a shot.
“I’ll take a tequila shot if you have it.”
“Coming right up, Anna May.”
Oh my gosh. Noah has a nickname for me now too. How could I forget? I could have let him call me Anna May. I really don’t care, but it was fun to tease him. But now that he has a nickname for me, those butterflies I feel when I am around him, nearly quadrupled. Especially with his reasoning for my nickname. And the way his soft lips felt against my forehead when he kissed me goodnight when he thought I was asleep… swoon.
“So what’s with the dazed look?” Mason asks me as he hands me a shot glass. “Or is it just the hangover?”
I look up at him before he sits down across from me with a shot in his hand too. “How do you know I’m hungover?”
He answers with a look of caution. “I talked to my brother this morning. Said you and him drank almost an entire bottle of whiskey last night.”
I shrug. “It was just a night of hanging out with a friend.” Did my voice just go up an octave as I said that?
“Hmm. I’ve never seen him drink that much. He only has a beer or two whenever he is out with us.”
I throw the shot back, not caring if I wait to take it with Mason. “We were using it as a distraction.”
“For what?” Mason asks before taking his own shot.
“You know, shit that happens.”
Mason eyes me over his shot glass before setting it back down. “My brother only drinks like that when he is thinking about Claire.”
My ears perk up at that. I’m not sure if I should pretend to know who she is or ask. Maybe this is why Noah is always cryptic. “Umm, he didn’t talk about Claire last night.”
“Strange then.”
“Why is it so strange? He rarely brings her up.” Come on Mason, give me something to work with here.
“He’s actually talked about her to you?” Mason asks, looking like a deer in headlights.
Okay, I can do this. I can finally get some answers about Noah. It’s not wrong I am getting them from his brother, right? “Not a lot. But I know she hurt him.”
“That would be an understatement. He tries to hide it but I can see through him, most of us can, but we don’t let on. The guy has been a mess ever since she walked away. He’s holding on, hoping she will come back. I got to give him credit for being that fucking loyal to someone. But she’s not coming back. It’s been five years.”
Wow. No wonder Noah acts the way he does. “Did they live in his house together?” I quickly correct myself because that sounds like something that Noah would have brought up. “He never talks about his house. Just thought maybe he hasn’t put the effort into it because it reminds him too much of her.”
Okay, you are really pulling at the bit now, Anna May.
Mason shakes his head. “That would make more sense. He bought that house two years after Claire left him. My family and I had to force him to sell the house they bought after they got married. He was even worse there than he is now. We thought he was going to lose his job. I’ve never seen anyone so wrecked as him. Even after—never mind. But he’s made improvements since he got Brutus, and he moved to that house now. But I know he is still waiting for her to show up on his doorstep and apologize for leaving him.”
He was married? And his wife left him? No wonder he is lonely and sucks at taking care of himself. I at least didn’t have a choice when I lost Kyle, but she walked out on him. I can’t even imagine the blame he must be putting on himself. And to think I have been trying to make the moves on him. This sad and broken man who is waiting for his wife to come back. I am an idiot.
Mason clears his throat. “Let me guess. You didn’t know any of that.”
I feel my cheeks burn as I get caught. “Shall we try that song again?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I won’t tell him, Anna. But you better not say anything either. Bastard would kill me if I told someone outside of the family and his work family about Claire.”
“Cross my heart,” I say, gesturing over my chest.
Mason gets up and grabs the bottle of tequila from the kitc
hen area across the room. “So let’s get back to that song we were working on. I am trying to get this artist to come record here and I think she might do it with that song.”
“Okay, yeah.” I start to play the melody I was working on as Mason pours us both another shot.
We end up finishing the song in a few hours, both happy with how it turned out.
“You ever think about recording music again, Anna May?”
I am startled by his question. I thought I had made it clear that I was not a performer anymore, just a songwriter. “Yeah, no. Not happening. I much prefer to be behind the scenes.”
“Dee tells me you used to love the limelight.”
I feel my chest getting red and turn my head away, letting my curls cover my face. “Not really. I mean, yeah, I liked playing my songs but I found more joy in having people hear them. The band we were in together, I was just a singer on the side of the stage with my guitar.”
“Yea but that other band, The Sparrows, that was all you.”
I shrug. “It was short-lived.”
“You made a huge impact on the indie-folk scene.”
“Not really.”
Mason pulls on my arm as I put my guitar away. “Oh come on Anna May, The Sparrows could have been the next Bon Iver or Fleet Foxes.”
“Umm, on what planet?” I ask, stunned at the comparisons.
“You were practically The Postal Service, without the huge final tour.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t compare me to Jenny Lewis.”
“I know you’ve heard it before.”
I pull away from him. “And it’s always been a horrible comparison!” I shout.
He must notice I am visibly upset because he backs away and takes a shot of tequila from the open bottle on the table. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve just always idolized your songwriting skills. I didn’t realize it brought back such bad memories.”
I fight back tears thinking of my past. “I would just rather be known as Anna May Cooper now.”
“Really? Anna May?”
“It looks better on album jackets,” I laugh.
Mason snorts as I pick up my bag and throw it over my shoulder. “I don’t know when you are free again but I have recording sessions the next three days then it’s Thanksgiving. Maybe we can do more writing at night if you have time or we might need to wait till next week.”
I really don’t want to wait until next week to play music again. I feel like it’s finally working as therapy for the first time in years. Although I can barely play at home still. But baby steps. One day I will be able to write on my own again. I think.
“I guess we’ll wait until after the holiday. I have to work the next three nights.”
“Not a problem,” he says. “You working Thanksgiving?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I actually get two full days off from my jobs this week.”
“You going to see your family?”
“Uhh, no. Just going to spend my day alo—with my friends.”
He squints at me like he doesn’t believe me. “Okay, Anna May.”
“Just text me when you’re free.”
He nods. “See ya.”
I walk out the door and take a deep breath. I hate when he brings up The Sparrows. The name alone feels like an omen. Not to mention Thanksgiving. Seraphina and Liam both invited me to have it with them but I can’t. I can’t do any holidays. Every single one of them is a reminder of my loss. I am much happier alone on those days, pretending like it’s any other day. Because normal days are easier to handle. I’ve taught myself how to survive on those days.
If one more person brings up Thanksgiving I am going to murder them in my sleep. Seraphina asked me yesterday and today like she is expecting me to change my mind but I don’t want to go to whatever hippie thing she is planning.
My coworkers at Jimmy’s won’t let up on me either. Last night and tonight they all invited me over to their houses but it would be weird having dinner with people I don’t know. Faking a smile the whole day, acting like I care about whatever family drama is going on. I have enough family drama to worry about.
I just want to get through this one shift so I can be off tomorrow in peace. Finally have a day alone and maybe just maybe write some music on my own.
I step outside to take a breather while all my tables are eating when my phone rings. I look down and see my sister’s name. I don’t want to answer, but after my conversation with Becca and the news that her boyfriend was going to propose, I decide it’s better to answer it.
“Hey Jess.”
“Wow. I cannot believe you actually answered a call from your own flesh and blood. Are you feeling okay?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m beginning to think I’m not.” I cough into the phone. “Yep, think I am coming down with something.”
“Liar.”
“So what’s up?”
“Well you know I haven’t talked to you in four months.”
“I work three jobs.”
“You can still pick up the phone when I call.”
I sigh. “I know Jess but every time you or Mom call all you try to do is convince me to come home.”
“And what’s so wrong with that?”
“You know why,” I say flatly.
“No, I don’t. Anna May, you ran out of this town like the devil was on your heels after Kyle died. You didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t give any of us an explanation. You ghosted us like we didn’t even matter.”
I groan. “I was there for three months after he died. I was heartbroken. He was the love of my life. He destroyed my heart.”
She cuts me off before I can continue. “You can’t blame him for dying, Anna. You can’t let your heartache eat you up over something that could have happened to any of us.”
My sister, just like everyone else, has no idea about the fight that made Kyle leave the house that night. “You don’t get it, Jessica.”
“You know what? I don’t. And I don’t think I ever will.” She pauses before she starts to speak loudly into the phone. “God, why do you have to be like this? I understand it hurts. It’s been seven years though for god’s sake. You need to move on. Jesus, Anna, you are almost thirty years old and you act like a teenager moping over her high school crush. We have all moved on. This whole town has. Even Kyle’s parents are happy. You need to learn to be too.”
“I am happy.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I don’t need to move on with someone else, be in love with someone to be happy.”
She sighs. “No, you don’t but you won’t even come home. And don’t tell me it’s because it hurts too much. If you’ve moved on, it wouldn’t hurt as much to come home.”
“Is this why you called?” I ask harshly.
“No, but as per usual this is the same conversation we always seem to have.”
“Then what do you want?” I ask harshly.
“Why do I always feel like the older sibling?”
I ignore her question as I pull my phone away to see the time. When I put the phone back to my ear, I hear her complaining.
“—glad your maturity level has gone up.” She pauses. “Mom wants to know if you read her letter?”
I bite my lip as I start to get impatient and I know my tables probably are too. I walk down the street, starting to pace. “What letter?” I play coy.
“Oh common, Anna May, you know exactly what I am talking about.”
I start chewing on my fingernails, something I rarely ever do as I try to think of a clever answer to my sister. “I—ugh—haven’t checked my mail in a few days.”
“Bullshit. You are the most meticulous and OCD person I know.”
“Well—” I know I can’t tell her I burned it. Or maybe I should. Maybe if I stand up for myself, they will finally let me be. I turn around on the sidewalk making my way back to Jimmy’s when I run into a hard chest. “Oof.”
“What was that?” my sister asks.
I look up and
see Mason as he squares my shoulders off, grocery bag in hand. “Hey Anna May.”
“Anna, are you still there?”
“Hey Mason.”
“What you doing around here?” Mason asks until he looks down and sees my white Jimmy’s t-shirt on under my flannel shirt. “Ahh, working.”
“Yeah, I actually need to get back inside.”
My phone is still near my face, and I hear my sister yelling at me. “Who are you talking to? What is going on, Anna May? Can you answer me?”
I pull the phone away and look at it. Before I can think of what to do, I hang up on my sister.
“Important phone call?” Mason asks.
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
He smiles. “Well, I just picked up some refreshments for the night. Stop by if you want to hang out after your shift. I’m in desperate need for a hangover tomorrow. Might keep me away from my parents.”
“You could just not show up like me,” I tease.
“Nah. Noah is always dragging my ass out of bed to go to family dinners.”
“You seem close with them.”
He shrugs. “Depends on the day.”
“Well, I better get back in for my shift.”
Mason starts to head around the corner to his studio. “Come by after work.”
“I’ll think about it.”
14
Noah
“Why are you calling me, Mase?” I answer my phone as I pull over.
“Because I have a question.”
I sigh as I put the car in park, mouthing an apology to my partner. I rarely ever take personal calls while I’m working. But due to the one in the morning hour, I won’t hesitate to answer. “This better be important, I’m working.”
I hear laughter in the background. “Oh, it’s important.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Nah, man.”
I know he is lying, but I choose to ignore it. “Make it quick.”
“I think you should invite Anna to Thanksgiving.”
I run my hand over my face. “Thanksgiving is practically today, and this isn’t important.”