by Kat T. Masen
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby, the world does revolve around me. And the second you realize that, the happier our lives will be.”
I look at him with disgust, ignoring the hurt that stems from his selfish words. “Of course, it does. You don’t care that I’m hurting every day being away from my mother. You don’t care that I’ve been suffering panic attacks that almost cost me my life. And for the record, tonight, Carson tried to rape me. So excuse me, while I forget the world revolves around you.”
I watch the anger morphing, his teeth gritting and the thirst to punch the hell out of something. “You said what?”
“Apparently, I’m another one of your little sluts that he likes to fuck. This isn’t who I am. I will not be called a slut. I can’t do this anymore. And this time, I mean damn well it.”
“So, what are you going to do?” he shouts, with vengeance. “You fucking tell me you love me and what, walk?”
“Yes,” I say out loud, with my posture straight, clarity in my expression. “I walk. Back to my family, back to the people who love me for me. Back to a world that brings happiness, not fear.”
“You mean back to him.”
I lower my head, ignoring his insecure remarks. “Goodbye, Wesley. I do love you, but I guess it’s true. Sometimes… love simply isn’t enough.”
“You can’t just fucking leave me,” he pleads, pulling on my arm with desperation.
I allow it to linger, his touch, just for a moment.
“I can. I will. I need to move on.” Releasing my arm from his grip, I gaze into his eyes one more time as if the door to this life is just about to close. “The worst thing I could have ever done will be to commit myself to you for life. Liam was right all along, maybe it’s him I’m destined to be with. At least I would be safe.”
Staring back, is a man hurt. His complexion completely ashen, the ache inside crippling his movement while he continues to stare vacantly into my eyes. I have never seen him so vulnerable, so completely silent with a pained poise.
And though my words are intended to push him away, but the remorse begins to seep its way in. I don’t want to end it this way.
I never want it to end.
But I know where my heart belongs. It isn’t here in Los Angeles, a place that’s my living nightmare.
It’s in my hometown in Alaska, a place that holds my best memories.
And my heart speaks the words, guides me in the right direction.
I need to go back home.
To Mama.
To Phoebe.
And maybe back to Liam.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Phoebs, would you just stand still for once and stop with that ridiculous duck face?”
The selfie stick is extended in front of us, swaying side to side as I do my best to capture the moment in panoramic, ignoring Liam and Phoebe arguing beside me as we huddle in for the photo. The beautiful stretch of the Bavarian Alps is positioned behind us, basking in the glorious sunlight on this warm, summer’s day.
“Perfect.” I smile to myself, bringing the GoPro back toward me.
Phoebe throws her backpack on to the ground, complaining about her sore shoulders again. She carries too many non-essential items, yet there’s no convincing her otherwise.
“Look, think about how toned your muscles are becoming,” I remind her.
“Did you see the schnitzels and jug of beer I polished off yesterday? This food baby, is about nine months along.” Phoebe pats her belly, purposely pushing it out to create a little round bump. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten the bratwurst and sauerkraut, too. That combo did a number on my stomach.”
“Mine, too. Never say the word sauerkraut to me ever again. Doesn’t that mean sour cabbage?”
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it did a sour number on my asshole,” she complains, cringing.
My mouth twists, disgusted at her graphic comment but can’t even argue her point since it also makes me ill. I may not have consumed the jug of beer like Phoebe, but one sip, and my stomach growls in a non-hungry way. I’m smart enough to figure out the rest of the jug will only send my stomach into further turmoil. Phoebe—not so much.
Then ABBA comes on.
Game over.
Phoebe is just a hot mess, standing on some tabletop and belting out Fernando. Last night was day five of our trip, and I suspect many more tabletop moments involving an intoxicated Phoebe Ann Summers.
But having fun, enjoying life is the whole purpose of the trip.
Thirty days.
The three of us.
Backpacking through Europe.
Leaving Los Angeles three weeks ago is the best thing I could have ever done for myself. It isn’t easy—quite the opposite. It’s the second hardest thing I have done in my life after leaving Mama behind.
Emerson was upset, offering me some time off to go do what I need to do, but I don’t want to be bound by time. She cried, I cried, and I didn’t expect to bond with her as deeply as we did in such a short time. This huge part of me carries guilt. I let her down professionally by allowing my personal life to get the better of me, but at some point, I had to make a decision that’s best for everyone.
I need to find myself, and there’s no time limit on that.
Flynn chose to stay in Los Angeles, moving in with some bandmates to cover costs. A week after I left, he was offered a record deal and a big one at that. Things are going fantastic for him, and deep down inside, I know I have to let go and let him live his life without my constant interference. He’s a big boy and doesn’t need me holding his hands anymore.
The day I stepped foot back on Alaskan soil, my emotions ran high. Mixed feelings about being home but also missing Los Angeles and the life I had built for myself.
Ironic, since I never expected any other place to feel like home.
Mama is happy to see me but equally worries about my welfare. There is no hiding anything from that woman. The second she saw me, she knew the truth.
I still remember the conversation we had the day I returned.
“Milly, I can see you’re lost. Just like when you were a little girl, you would run to me every time, demanding I make you better. Cry until I did. You’re a big girl now, and I won’t always be around to fix your booboos.”
I know what Mama said is true. We are all aging, and life just flies by. She will always be my mama, but I need to make my own decisions now. I need to think about what is best for me, what I want because in the end, I will never get this time back.
And so, it leads to the night that changed everything.
Two bottles of cheap wine, three best friends in a run-down pub the next town over, and one drunken slur of a dream.
“I’ve always wanted to attend Oktoberfest,” Liam slurred, drunken smile following. “Get it on with some German maid in those hot little outfits with the hair-type things dangling.”
“Let’s do it.” Phoebe jumps off her stool, swaying and unable to stand straight. “The three of us. Thirty days backpacking through Europe.”
“Phoebs…” I hiccupped, consuming one glass of red and stopping there as my head was already feeling light. “Slow down the drinking. Thirty days, you backpacking? You do realize that you won’t be able to shower every day and when you do, you’re sharing a bathroom with strangers.”
“Yeah, so what? C’mon guys, look at us. Liam, you’re still living in your parents’ basement probably jerking off to some German porn with hairy muffs. Milly, you’re just depressing with your post break-up blues. And look at me? I’m twenty-six and work at the local library sorting out books with ladies old enough to be my great-grandmother. This can’t be it, guys. This can’t be how we spend the rest of our lives.”
We made a pact then and there, drunk on cheap wine. Our bucket list was written on a napkin we found on the countertop near the bowl of dirty peanuts.
We had no care in the world that night. The next morning, after we nursed the hangover from hell, we realized that
our drunken slurs were not just foolish dreams, they were bold and true. They were the thoughts that consumed us, and it was either we let them continue to do so or follow our dreams.
The three of us would do it all, push ourselves beyond our comfort levels and start the journey to find ourselves.
From the moment I returned home, Liam welcomed me back with open arms. It wasn’t romantic, and yes, we talked about our relationship and how we want to move forward. His brief stint with Sienna after our disastrous break-up turned him off to relationships. It’s the first time in many years that he enjoys being single, and I can’t be any prouder as his friend. We laugh like old times, maybe more so relaxed in each other’s presence, and Phoebe, our former third wheel, makes our tight circle even tighter.
And so here we are, both Phoebe’s and my bucket-list item checked off. We are the von Trapp family, if only for this moment, and Liam having never watched The Sound Of Music laughs as he watches us belt out the tunes without a care in the world.
I never imagined this feeling of wanderlust, traveling with my two best friends and much-needed soul searching. I have learned so much about myself during the quick days spent here. Each one of us pushes each other. We know our limits but enough that we get the best of what we need.
And even though I find myself on this soul-searching journey, it’s not without the memories of what pushed me here in the first place.
I just can’t say his name.
And I refuse to close my eyes and remember his face.
The pain of everything that happened between us in such a short time is still too raw. An exposed wound which, on the surface appears healed, but beneath the skin, the ache burns.
The desperation to rid him from my thoughts pushes me here.
It makes it harder that he is, in many ways, impossible to ignore. Even across the pond, the news-stands feature magazines with his face splashed all over it. That’s his life—not mine. Thank God the paparazzi stopped following me the moment I left Los Angeles. There is some controversy going on back in the states, but I don’t want to know. Despite the bitter ending between us, I love him and that feeling doesn’t just disappear no matter how much of a distance I create between us.
Wesley won the game he was playing, and made me fall hopelessly in love with him only to hurt me in the end. Not only me, but my family.
I can’t forgive him, not now, maybe never.
“Okay, are we done with the re-enactments? We’ve got to hit Munich before six if we want to make the concert,” Liam reminds us.
Phoebe groans. “I hope that’s where I find my prince. So far, the men we’ve encountered don’t fit my checklist of men I want to run away with.”
With my backpack safely secured on, I lean over to help Phoebe with hers.
“Your list involves your prince owning a castle. C’mon, like can you at least tone it down? You’re getting pickier with old age. When we were kids, you were willing to marry that kid Thomas what’s-his-face who walked around picking his nose in the schoolyard.”
“Firstly, Thomas is now a successful doctor… of feet or something gross like that. Second, look around you? There are castles everywhere. We’re not back in Kansas, Toto.”
I refuse to waste another minute of this trip arguing about Phoebe’s expensive taste in men, motioning for the two of them to haul ass so we don’t miss our next adventure.
***
Our bus has been waiting at the bus stop, blinkers on and ready to leave us behind. We made it, running with no time to spare, and much like many of the other buses we rode, it’s full of passengers traveling to different destinations.
Liam is sitting next to a milkmaid. It’s enough to make us chuckle in the seat behind him as he casually tries to strike up a conversation with her broken English about milking cows. You can’t ignore her cute outfit—tunic-style dress in cornflower blue. Her breasts are huge. I’m certain it’s the reason why Liam chose that seat and not the one on the left of us which sits an elderly lady knitting what looks like a giant scarf.
It’s good to see him being a regular guy, and in just a short time, our relationship has evolved. It’s weird for me to say I’m proud of him for trying to pick up a milkmaid, but I truly am.
“Are you okay, Mils?” Phoebe pulls a granola bar out of her pocket and offers me half.
I take the piece, not realizing how hungry I am. “Thanks, and yeah, why not?”
“You’ve been quieter today… like something’s bothering you, and I think I know what but I realize we made that stupid pact not to talk about it. Just letting you know I’m happy to break that pact.”
The pact was to avoid talking about him. I can’t even say his name to myself.
“No,” I remind her sternly, “No breaking of the pact. I’m just anxious to see Flynn tonight. It’s like the stars aligned. We’re here, and Flynn’s new band is on this worldwide tour. That drummer going to rehab and breaking his contract was the perfect chance for Flynn. I mean, they’re massive right now, and thankfully, Flynn was able to learn the songs and join them in such a short time. Mama is so darn proud of him. You should have seen her face when he FaceTimed us with the news. It made me so happy seeing her happy. I kind of get it now.”
Phoebe chews loudly on her bar. “Get what?”
“What makes her happy is seeing us live our lives. We’re both doing something for ourselves, and if that makes her happy, then I’ll continue to do that.”
Phoebe places her hand on mine. “Milly, I’m glad you finally see that. She’s so settled watching the two of you live your lives. I know she’s still unwell but just know that she’s getting the best help she can.”
“I know.” I smile, finally. “She has the best care and people around her. In three weeks, we’ll be back home, and hopefully, she and I can take some small road trips when she’s feeling better.”
Leaning my head against the window, I stare outside and admire the beautiful scenery. With the sun shining through the glass and caressing my face with its warmth, I begin to doze off, barely able to keep my eyes open.
***
Three hours later, our feet land on the pavement with our trusty map out trying to locate the place where we’re staying. Part of our journey, we made a pact to leave cells behind. We have a GoPro and our paper maps which Phoebe hates, so she left it up to Liam and me to navigate.
“We’re located just over there.” He points to a building with a questionable neon sign telling us it’s the hostel we booked. Liam pulls me aside as Phoebe bends down, mumbling to herself as she ties her shoelace. “Mills, the milkmaid gave me her number.”
“She has a phone?”
“Yes, no. She’s staying with an aunt.”
I laugh. “And you’re telling me because?”
“She, um… kinda wants to catch up tonight for a drink.”
“Of milk?”
He lets out a frustrated groan. “Would you be serious? No, a drink, like in a bar.”
“I’m serious. You’re telling me you’re going to have a drink at a bar with a milkmaid.”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with it?”
“Okay with what?” Phoebe butts in.
“Liam’s getting laid by the milkmaid tonight.”
“Oh, Jesus, Mills!” Liam bows his head, his messy, long hair falling over his eyes as he raises his hands to cover them. “The whole town heard that.”
“Listen, I’m okay, all right?” I try my best to reassure him, feeling slightly annoyed that everyone fusses over my mental state as if I’m some broken bird. “This trip is all about us finding ourselves. If you find yourself inside a milkmaid, then props to you.”
“At least you know she’ll be good at the tugging,” Phoebe adds, jabbing Liam in the ribs which he absolutely hates.
Scowling, I push her aside and begin walking to the hostel.
The hostel is the same as the others we’ve stayed in, clean and nothing inside too nasty.
We quick
ly dump our stuff, take turns having a shower, then head to a local eatery for a quick bite before walking toward the venue where Flynn will perform.
Flynn has given us backstage passes. With a million security checks cleared, we finally make it backstage and follow the security guard toward where Flynn is getting ready.
The security dude knocks on the dressing room door and is greeted by Flynn. I jump to him, wrapping my arms around his waist so tight and not letting go.
“Missed me, huh?”
“I did, you goof.” I pull away, staring at his face with the proudest grin, my cheeks beginning to hurt from how much I’m smiling.
He has a beard. It’s darker than the shade of his hair, and it’s thick around his normally baby face. It makes him look older.
There’s another piercing on his eyebrow but all in all, he’s still my baby brother through and through. “Flynn, I’m so proud of you.”
“I know, Milly, but I kinda gotta tell you something, maybe in private…”
The door swings open. A woman, dressed all in black with fierce brows and carrying a clipboard, yells orders at Flynn, giving him one minute to get out of here before leaving the room.
“Geez, rude much? Who is she?”
“My manager. She’s doing my head in. You want her job? I swear, Milly, she’s a beast and doesn’t get me. Okay, listen, I need to rush but what I want to say is… Milly, he’s really hurting.”
I remain dead silent.
“He’s not in good shape. You leaving him, it killed him. And I know what you’re thinking… look, I asked him for that pill, okay? I had such bad anxiety and didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could have asked me for help,” I uttered, playing with my bracelet, nervously.
“You had your own thing going on. Listen, I’m just saying that back home, there’s a man broken because you left him. We’re aren’t all perfect, Mill’s. Just think about it, okay?”
His manager barrels through the door again, “Flynn! Now.”
Frustrated as he rolls his eyes, kisses me quickly on the forehead then runs out, leaving the three of us in the room.