by Tucker, RH
“Ugh! So this is why you guys told me to take an Uber to work. I hate you all.”
Everyone breaks out in laughter again, and I take a drink of my water.
“Taylor!”
The name being shouted stops me in my tracks, and my head snaps to the side. A group of guys all cheer for their friend, Taylor, and I see a guy about my height, skinny, with freckles and orangish-red hair waving at them, pulling up a chair. Turning back around, I stare down at my water, my light-hearted mood entirely gone.
Since he confided in me the story that altered his entire life, it put so many of the missing puzzle pieces in place. Unfortunately, it also left a giant, gaping hole in the middle of our relationship.
I’ve wanted to reach out and check up on him. I sent him a text message a couple of days after, but he never replied. His last words to me left me worried, and I haven’t been able to shake them—he doesn’t believe in happy endings anymore. Then, he basically pushed me off to the side. What I told him was the truth, he does need to figure this out. Otherwise, it’ll just eat at him for the rest of his life. But that didn’t mean I want to be pushed away.
And since then, my own doubts have started to creep in. Should I have not said that? Maybe I should’ve stayed with him longer, stayed around him more and kept in contact more, helping him along. But would that help? Would I be a pillar of strength for him or would I just be a crutch he’s leaning on? I have no idea what the right thing to do is, and all I know is that as much as I want him to figure everything out, I don’t want to lose him. But he may already be lost to me.
“Hey.” Ian nudges my side, breaking my thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer, taking another drink of water. “I’m fine.”
“Really? Because you look like your like Malibu Barbie’s head just snapped off, and you tried to fix it, only to break the body in half.” My brow forms a line, staring confused at the incredibly descriptive scenario. “Happened to my sister growing up.” He smirks. “She was inconsolable for an entire week.”
“Poor thing.” I let out a slight giggle. “No, nothing that serious. Thanks though.”
“Come on, Sash. What’s wrong?”
“It’s just …” I run my finger over the edge of my glass. “It’s about Taylor. I know I haven’t talked to you much about him. It’s just … relationship stuff.” I let out a light laugh, then go somber, rethinking my statement. “Actually, I don’t know if we’re even in a relationship anymore.”
He’s quiet, sitting next to me. I’ve tried not to think about it because I don’t know what I can or should do. I’ve felt that it’s better to just keep my distance, hoping for the best, but the more silence there is between Taylor and me, the less hope I begin to have.
“Yeah.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Talking about girly stuff, about feelings and all that. What dude wants to talk about that? Emotions? Gross.” My eyes dart over to him, and he unleashes a huge grin.
“Jerk,” I say through laughter.
“We’re chefs, Sasha.” He leans over, bumping his shoulder into mine.
“Line cooks.”
“Okay, okay.” He shrugs it off. “But you know my point. If you cook anything like me, and I think you do, you cook with passion. With excitement, and yeah, with love. I’m not afraid to cook like that because that’s when you make the best stuff. You can’t be afraid to live like that either because, you know … best stuff.”
“You know, it’s a lot funner talking to you when I make fun of you in the kitchen.”
He laughs. “Then let’s do that.”
“What?”
“Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
I frown, confused, and look around the area. “Um …”
“Not here, you ditz. My place.”
“Oh.” Shocked, I look at him, then look back down at my glass.
“Or not,” he’s quick to counter. “Let’s do lunch. Out in public, middle of the day, nothing to worry about.” He lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Look, I know what you just said, so don’t think of this as a date. And for reals, it doesn’t even have to be. Let’s just go out as friends.”
Gazing into the glass of water, the sweat beads dripping off of the side, I’m not sure what to do. Sure, he’s saying just as friends, but I know what it really is. And I also know him. He’s a good guy. And Felicia isn’t wrong, he is cute. However, my mind keeps going back to Taylor and wars with itself.
“Can I think about it?” I sheepishly ask him.
“Sure,” he answers with a smile. “Just don’t wait too long. I’ve got girls breaking down my door to get to me.”
He starts laughing, and I’m unable to hold back my own chuckle. “Okay, Casanova. I’ll just tell them your grilled chicken tacos always come out burnt, and we’ll see how they respond then.”
“Girl, my grilled chicken tacos are delicious. You just don’t want to admit they’re better than yours.”
“In your dreams.”
Chapter 28
Taylor
Sitting on Ethan’s couch, I aimlessly scroll through social media on my phone. Sasha posted a picture of a plate of tacos yesterday. Well, technically, it’s a finished plate of tacos with crumbled tortillas shells, leftover pieces of cheese and ground beef, with little spots of hot sauce. Her caption was “My tacos are the ish.”
I remember everything about it. I’m a loser now.
I haven’t done anything since confessing everything to her. Well, that’s not true. I’ve couch potatoed, and I even made a new friend.
“It was really funny.” My new friend, Ethan’s four-year-old daughter, Ashley, continues her story sitting next to me on the couch. I think she’s developed a crush on me. “Jackie helped me paint the elephant though,” she says, continuing in her coloring book. “But you color good, too, Taylor.”
“Thanks, munchkin.”
Okay, so technically she’s not a new friend. I’ve hung around her before from time to time when Ethan has her. But I’ll take what I can get. I haven’t even worked out in a week, which is even stranger. In the past, if I wasn’t out with a random girl, I’d be working out to take my mind off of things. Or vice-versa. Now, I don’t want to do either of those things.
“Okay, Ashley. Time to go.” Ethan walks in and looks down at us. My arm lazily drops over the small coffee table, coloring away in her book. “Taylor, you good?”
“Never better.”
He lets out either an annoyed chuckle or a skeptical scoff. I haven’t been able to figure it out. Ashley gives me a hug, and it’s honestly the only time this past couple of weeks that my return smile doesn’t feel completely fake. Once they leave, I head to the kitchen, grab an energy drink, and flop back down on the couch, turning on the TV to aimlessly scroll through Hulu.
About thirty minutes later, Ethan comes back and takes a seat next to me on the couch.
“Hey, so I heard about this opening at this gym I used to work at.”
“Oh,” I respond, still staring at the TV.
“I can get you an interview.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Reaching over, he grabs the remote from me and turns the TV off. “What about tomorrow?”
I’m instantly brought back to the moment, but not because of him taking control of the environment. “No, I can’t tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, you couldn’t do anything last week, so why not tomorrow?”
My eyes finally find his, and he seems to be annoyed. “Because I can’t, that’s why.”
Getting up from the couch, he tosses the remote on the table in front of me. “Dude, I’m trying to be patient. And I don’t want to get all crazy or anything, but I’m not looking to take care of two kids.”
“Thanks.”
“Taylor, seriously. I’m not trying to be an ass, but what the hell? You haven’t been doing anything. Literally. You sit on your ass all day, doing nothing. I said you can stay here, and you can, but I still need you to put in some effor
t, man. We haven’t talked about rent because I wasn’t even sure how long you were planning on staying. But—”
“I get it, okay?” I rise from the couch and head toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure it out and pay rent.”
“Damn it, man, listen to me. Rent is whatever. Yeah, I’d like it, but I consider you a friend. I know I sound like a broken record, but you need to do something. Anything. You can’t just sit around all day, coloring with Ashley.”
“Fine, fine.” I shrug it off even though I know he’s telling me the truth. “I’ll go to the job interview. But not tomorrow.”
“The manager told me he’d be there all day and won’t be back in for a couple of days. Tomorrow would be perfect.”
“I can’t do it tomorrow. I can’t.”
He still doesn’t know. I’m not sure when he will, or if he ever will. After our one talk, he knows there was something serious that happened to me, but afterward, I never went into depth with it. And tomorrow’s the sixteenth.
“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Can I set something up for you in a couple days then?”
I nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Nodding in return, we exchange looks, and I’m not sure he believes me, but I’m telling the truth. I know I need to get my life back in order. He turns and walks back into the living room, leaving me with my thoughts.
“Hey, Ethan?” I call out to him. Turning around, he looks over at me. “Thanks for everything. Seriously.”
Another nod and I gaze down at the tiled floor, remembering Sasha’s words to me. I need to fix this. I have to figure everything out. Thankfully, Ethan seems willing to give me that time here, without putting a lot of pressure on me for rent, but that won’t last forever. And I don’t want it to. I want to get everything in order, and I know it’s not really going to start until I come to terms with Reese. Tomorrow has to be my launching point. Otherwise, I’ll be floating through this life with no clear direction for anything.
* * *
Walking to the top of the hill, I gaze out over the ocean. Today’s always been a no-fly zone for me. I don’t do anything on this day, and whether that’s healthy or not, it’s what I’ve done, and no one’s ever challenged me on it. And since I moved here, I’ve broken it up into two sections. First, I come to the lookout spot on the beach. After that, I head to the cemetery. You might think going to her gravesite would make me feel closer to her, but oddly, I like the beach spot.
“Hey, Reese.” I take a seat as I normally do, running my fingers over the sand. “Four years. That’s unreal.”
Taking a deep breath, and laying my arms over my knees, I stare down at the sand. This day is always somber for me, but I also usually talk to her the most on this day. I let her know about AJ, my parents, and then talk about the dreams I had when we were younger. The things I’ve thought about since she’s been gone that we should’ve or could’ve done.
I feel a knot in my stomach, and my throat chokes up, but it’s not because of everything I’ve felt in the past. It’s because of what I know I have to do.
“I can’t keep doing this, Reese. I …” Letting out a groan, I stare down at the sand as I press my thumb into it. “I just can’t. I love you, you know that. I’ll always love you, and I’ll always have you with me. But if I keep doing this … if I keep locking myself away from everyone else, then how am I supposed to live? And I didn’t think I would—” I scoff at myself. “I didn’t think I’d want to, but … I like someone else. I’m falling for someone else, and I don’t know how to do this and be with her.”
Releasing a long sigh, I clear my throat, pushing back the tears.
“Please don’t hate me, Reese. You know I’ll always love you, and you’ll still be with me. Just … I just wish I didn’t feel like I’m cheating on you. I don’t know how to get past that.
“Cynthia’s told me. My mom has, too. Everyone’s told me that they think you’d want me to move on. If the places were switched … and I swear I wish they were, I wish you were here today. But this is the hand I’m dealt. However, if I wasn’t here and you were, I’d want you to move on. I’d want you to find love and a guy who would love you like you deserve. Unfortunately, I can’t get past that for myself. Because you’re gone and I’m here.”
I let the silence fall back around me, drawing my knees up closer, and staring out over the afternoon sky. It’s a clear day, with a few clouds in the air. The beach down below has a steady group of people—some walking along the water, others playing in it. I’m acutely aware of the difference of emotions floating around down below to those I’m feeling.
Sand shuffles behind me and I turn around, surprised to find Micah making his way over to me. My eyes stay locked on him, and he finally looks up, giving me an unsure grin and head nod.
“Hey,” he lets out, quietly.
“Hey.”
Taking a seat next to me, he sits the same way I am, knees up, his arms crossed over them. He gazes out over the same horizon I’ve been staring at.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I …” He lets out a soft chuckle, grinning at the sand. “I talked to Tara before the semester ended. Since I hadn’t seen you around campus, I wasn’t sure what was up. She said you kind of went off the grid.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I told Sasha everything. It didn’t go like I hoped. Before that I basically kamikaze’d my classes. I’ll need to retake them.”
I expect him to look over at me and roll his eyes, or even let out an unbelieving laugh, but he doesn’t. He merely nods, still staring out.
“I figured as much. I knew you’d be here today though.” He finally turns to face me, offering me a friendly smile. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
His words, as warm and comforting as they are, send pain through me like a knife. “Shit, Micah. I’m so sorry for what I did.”
“Don’t.”
“Seriously—”
“Taylor, stop.” Reaching over he puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all good. You’re my brother. Brothers fight. And I am partly to blame, crossing a line in some of that.”
Lips pursed, I shake my head. “I’m seriously screwed up.”
“We all are, man.”
I nod, finally returning the smile he’s giving me. He’s right. We all have our battles we’re fighting—some greater than others. Regardless, we all have something, and we have to figure out how to win them.
* * *
The blue sky follows me as I ride on the freeway on my bike and reach the cemetery, but the air is different. Back on the beach, enjoying the surf, I could see the complete contrast of my mood compared to everyone around me. Here, even if it’s the same light clouds floating overhead, the mood drops.
Cynthia, AJ, and I have a system in place. They come in the morning, and I visit in the afternoon, that way we each can have our own time with her. Reese’s dad went to the cemetery the first anniversary but has since let Cynthia and AJ come alone. Cynthia said it was too hard for him, and that she might’ve done the same if it wasn’t for AJ. He wants to come on the anniversary.
It’s different for me when I visit her gravesite. I don’t usually talk as freely as I do when I’m on the beach. I just sit, staring at the cement pillar, picking at the grass on the ground. But today I’m still talking.
“You know, in the beginning,” I start, keeping my eyes on the grass, “a few months after it happened, as much as I wished I could switch places with you, there was another thought I had. I only had it once, and immediately took it back. I never told you because I felt ashamed by it, but I wished we never went out. That we didn’t even knew each other because then we wouldn’t have been together, and you would probably still be alive.”
I shake my head at myself, somewhat still disgusted at the memory. I can’t believe I thought that, and at the same time, I have wondered something similar every once in a while. Wondered where she’d be if we were never together. Where I would be.
I let out a lo
ng breath. “I don’t know, Reese. I wish you could just tell me what I should do.”
“Taylor,” Cynthia lightly calls out my name from behind.
Turning around, I see her walking toward me, AJ next to her, holding his customary box of cookies for this day.
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?”
She smiles down at AJ, who looks at his box. “We couldn’t find the cookies. I told him she’d be fine without them—”
“No, Mom.” He lifts his light brown eyes to meet hers. “They were her favorite.”
“I know.” She puts her hand around him. “We had to look for them at a few different stores. We finally found them.”
I grin down at AJ. “She always loved oatmeal raisin and macadamia nut. Such a weird combination.” I chuckle.
“We can come back,” Cynthia says.
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I was just finishing up.”
She gives me a friendly nod in reply. I run my fingers over the headstone, feeling the coolness of the stone, and then head back to the parking lot.
“Taylor.” AJ runs over, catching up to me. “Your mom sent me the recital videos. Thank you.”
“No problem, buddy.”
“So …” He hesitates, looking down at the ground, nudging the grass with his foot. “You don’t have to tell me, but I was wondering if Sasha knows about Reese?”
My eyes pop open. I’ve never talked to him or his family—or mine for that matter—about her. Dropping to a knee to meet his eyes, I struggle with a response as he looks away. “How do you know about Sasha?”
His uncomfortable demeanor turns into one of slight guilt. Twirling the box of cookies, he picks at a corner of it. “Um … I saw the name a few times under some of your Insta pics. She liked some photos, and when I checked her profile, I saw a picture of you and her. Is she your girlfriend?”