Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  “Maybe I should go,” she continues. “Because I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m caught in the muddy current of the river and I can’t get my arms and legs to move to fight it. Because I don’t want to fight it.”

  The message ends and I bring the phone away from my ear, letting out a breath. I blink and stare at the window, listening to the river in the background. The pain in this woman’s voice is hauntingly beautiful, awakening the dark parts of my heart and making me feel.

  I haven’t felt anything deep in years.

  I look back at the phone and scroll through the messages. The voicemail box has to be close to full, but since there’s nothing else on the phone taking up memory, it’s able to store them all. For now. Once I start using the phone I’ll have to delete the messages, which seems wrong for some insane reason.

  Her words are spoken in heartbroken whispers, not meant for anyone to hear. And yet I can’t stop listening.

  The next message is from two weeks after that and is considerably shorter. “Mom made me see a therapist today. She also told me to write down how I feel on a piece of paper. I left it blank. She seemed annoyed, but that’s how I feel. Empty.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter and lock the screen on the phone. No more messages tonight. My mystery woman’s words hit a little too close to home. I set the phone down, shower, and get into the uncomfortable bed, which instantly makes me eager for my new mattress to arrive tomorrow.

  I pull out my Kindle and try to read, but my mind keeps drifting to the woman who left the messages. Collectively, I’ve heard her speak for only a few minutes. Yet it’s not the time, but the depth of her words. The emotion in her voice. I can’t get her out of my mind and I don’t know her name or what she looks like.

  If we ever met, I’d be fucked.

  Chapter 3

  Sierra

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s my birthday.”

  I pick up a box cutter and carefully slice through the packing tape. “I don’t know, Lisa,” I say to my cousin, who also doubles as my best friend. “There’s a lot to do here tonight.”

  I don’t have to look up to feel her incredulous stare.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I mean, we just got this shipment in and I have five-hundred dollars to spend on new orders tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  Her one-word questions further prove how little she believes me. “And this has to be done on a Friday night? Don’t most places not process orders over the weekend?”

  “No, lots of places ship every day of the week. And it’s going to take time going through the catalog, plus I’ve been slowly convincing Mrs. Williams to stock more indie books.” Since Jake died over a year ago, I haven’t felt like myself. It’s like part of me died with him, and all that remained was the part of me that does day-to-day tasks, surviving, getting by and fooling those around me.

  But not living.

  I flick my eyes up from the box of books in front of me and see Lisa’s face. She’s annoyed and concerned, like everyone else close to me, though Lisa is one of the few who didn’t put a time limit on my grief. But I know it won’t last forever, and I don’t want to throw away a lifetime of friendship.

  “Sierra, please,” she says softly. “I miss hanging out with you.”

  I remove packing paper from the box of books and close my eyes in a long blink. Lisa is my only remaining friend. Everyone else ran out of patience, it seems, and didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with me. I don’t want to lose Lisa too.

  “I guess it could wait,” I start.

  “Fuck yes!” Lisa exclaims and then winces. “Sorry,” she says to the customers milling about the store. “We’ve missed you, Sierra. So much.”

  “Who’s all going?” I ask and try to ignore the instant regret I feel for agreeing to go. Though even before I became the shell of my former self, I wasn’t much of a going-out person. I enjoyed quiet nights at home reading or binging a show on Netflix.

  “The usual crew: Katie, Bella, and Heather. But not Francine. I can’t stand that bitch.”

  “I can’t either. She’s too judgmental.”

  “She’s worse than me, and I’m a very judgey person,” Lisa quips.

  “What’s the dress code?”

  “Sexy.” She lifts her hand and points at me, pushing her eyebrows together. “Don’t think I forgot what a total knockout you are. I’m still jealous you broke the Belmont curse of the flat chest.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Trust me, I’d trade with you any day. Especially in this heat. The sweat dripping between my boobs all day is so lovely.”

  “Well, put those suckers to good use tonight and get us some free drinks. Flirt a little and have some fun. I want to see you enjoying life again.”

  I smile at her words but feel the dull edge of the knife in my heart. “I do too.” And I do, but I fear the void inside is too big to ever be filled.

  I sit on the edge of my bed looking down at my multi-colored pastel heels. It’s the only thing I’ve put on so far other than a bra and underwear, and am having a hard time picking out an outfit for tonight. I ordered these shoes the week before Jake died, and since the flower design is hand-painted, they didn’t arrive until after his funeral. I’ve never worn them until tonight.

  Standing, I go to my closet and look through my clothes. I settle on a white sundress with flowers stitched onto the thin straps. I put it on, and go into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. I keep things simple and add big, loose curls and just a bit of eye shadow and mascara.

  When I step back and look at myself in the mirror, it’s like I’m looking into the past, and I’m overcome with longing again. But this time, it’s for the woman I used to be. I want to be her again, though the thought of laughing and going out with friends, of moving on, makes me feel guilty.

  Lisa calls to say she’s in the driveway waiting for me, saving me from thinking about it too much. I double check to make sure I unplugged my curling iron, then hurry through the house and go out the door.

  “You look amazing!” she gushes when I get in the passenger side and buckle up.

  “So do you,” I say back and hand her a wrapped box. “Happy birthday.”

  “Sierra, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

  “It’s not much,” I say. “And is kinda lame.”

  “You’re always lame,” she says as she tears into the paper. “I don’t expect much from you, you know.”

  “Keep the expectations low, that’s my motto.”

  Lisa laughs and pulls a picture frame from the box. “Awww, this isn’t lame at all.” She blinks away tears and looks at the photo of us, arms wrapped around each other. We were six years old in that picture and were matching Disney princesses for Halloween. “Oh my God, look at how cute we were! This makes me feel so old! Thanks, love!”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  Lisa unfolds the tissue paper and screams. “Chainsmokers tickets! Holy fuck, Si!”

  “So, I take it you’re excited?”

  “Yes! Oh my God, yes! Thank you!”

  I smile, feeling my heart warm. It’s such a strange feeling, one I forgot how much I missed. “I figured you and Rob can go. Assuming you haven’t gotten rid of him yet.”

  Lisa laughs. “What about me and you? Oh, uh, yeah. Rob would love to go.” She looks at the tickets, no doubt seeing the date of the concert and not pushing the issue. She leans over the center console and hugs me. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

  “I love it.” She packs the frame and the tickets back in the box, sets it in the backseat and puts the car in drive. “I’d offer to buy you a drink tonight, but I think the girls will do all the work for you.” She raises her eyebrows and looks at my breasts. “Seriously, it’s not fair.”

  “Try running with these things. Or riding horses. Or just laying down and being comfortable.”

  “Like you’d really give th
em up.”

  I shake my head. “Never. But I can humbly brag about how annoying having big boobs is all day.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  We both laugh and things almost feel normal on the short drive to The Mill House bar. The bar is busy tonight since beer is half-off on Friday nights. Katie, Bella, and Heather are already there and have already started drinking.

  “Happy birthday!” they cheer and embrace Lisa before turning to me.

  “We’re so glad you came out!” Katie says and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I’ve missed you!”

  “I’ve missed you ladies too,” I say, not wanting to make a big deal about anything. Though in truth, I can’t remember the last time I saw my friends. Christmas, maybe? They’ve made no effort to connect with me, but to be fair, I haven’t made any attempt either. Time’s gone by fast the last year and has crept along at the same time.

  “We got a pitcher of margaritas,” Bella tells us, and pours two glasses and hands one to me. I take a small sip and slide into the booth. “And it’s karaoke tonight. Who’s singing with me?”

  “Me! Just let this sink in a bit,” Lisa says and takes a big gulp of her drink, then makes a face from the rush of cold. We all laugh. I slowly nurse my drink just to blend in but don’t want to drink it. An hour passes, and I’m not miserable. I’m talking with my friends, laughing at their jokes, and fully mixing in. It’s almost like I’m having a good time, but this all feels pretend, like I’m just playing along, acting but not feeling.

  They go through another pitcher of drinks, and Lisa and Bella get up to sing “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls. I get up to go to the bathroom, and come back to find Rob, Lisa’s on-and-off-again boyfriend sitting close next to her in the booth. He has friends with him too, and overall, they’re all nice guys who grew up in Summer Hill.

  “Sierra,” he says, blue eyes widening. “Hey. It’s good to see you out again. I mean, not again. I, uh…” He turns to Lisa, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot.”

  I smile. “It’s okay. I know I haven’t been out in a long time. You guys don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

  Rob gives me a curt nod. “Good. Hey, you’ve met my friend Talon before, right?”

  “Yeah, a few times.” I take my seat, which is subsequently next to Talon. He’s a few years older than me and is an attractive man with dark skin and expressive eyes. “Hi,” I say to him, feeling awkward.

  “Hi, Sierra,” he says back, giving me a kind smile. “So, Lisa couldn’t get you to go up and sing?”

  “No way. I don’t do singing in public. Or speaking.” I shudder and shake my head.

  “I bet you’d be good at it.”

  “Not at all.” I reach for my glass and slide it in front of me. I watch a grain of salt fall down the side, stuck in a little bead of condensation. The watermelon margarita is delicious, and getting drunk and crazy with my friends would do me some good. But the last time I drank, it brought out the emotional side of me, and that’s the last thing my friends need to deal with right now. No one wants to claim responsibility of the drunk girl in the bathroom crying about her boyfriend, no matter the circumstances. So I take a small sip and put the glass down, careful not to even let myself get tipsy.

  I turn and look at Talon, admiring his muscles and the clean-cut lines of his jaw. He smells good, looks good, and I want to feel something toward him.

  But I don’t. I don’t feel anything, and the more I watch my friends enjoy life, the more panicked I feel that something is irreplaceably broken inside of me.

  My friends finish off their drinks and grow restless, and decide to move the party to Rob’s house for a bonfire. I decline, saying that I’m going to order food and head home, taking Lisa’s car back to my place.

  I used to love barn parties like that, but can’t right now. I can only hold up the front that everything is okay for a little while, and my soul is tired. I’m going to stumble and fall soon, dropping the facade and revealing to everyone that there’s nothing left inside me.

  Chapter 4

  Chase

  I stand in front of the vent feeling cool air blowing in my face. It feels fantastic, and couldn’t have come at a better time since the summer heat index is rising daily. The air conditioner repair guy left only an hour ago, and I turned down the air as cool as it can go in an attempt to get the apartment down to a comfortable temperature. I need to put away everything I ordered online, including bringing the old mattress downstairs.

  I don’t want to move away from the air, but I have shit to do and am hanging out with Josh at the bar tonight. I told him I can jump right in and take over, but he insisted on one day to ‘shadow’ him and then another few for training. It’s the proper way to do things, I suppose, and the pace of life is slower here in Summer Hill than what I’m used to.

  And I should stop taking risks.

  I’ve been running on luck, and luck runs out. One day shit is going to hit the fan and I’ll get hurt beyond repair. I close my eyes, inhale one last breath of cold air, and then go into the bedroom and heft the old mattress down the stairs and over by the barn that’s full of junk. I opened the barn doors earlier this morning only to promptly close them, overwhelmed by the sight of things. I’m going to need multiple dumpsters to get rid of all that shit.

  I stop by the river, watching the water rush by, and think of the woman’s words from her message about the river flooding. I stand there a moment longer than I planned, summer sun baking the back of my neck, lost in thought about her. I woke up thinking about her and had to listen to one more message, which was left a few days from the previous. All she said was that she took Tinkerbell and Dolly to the vet, and he liked her idea for the cat shelf.

  I went back and listened to the older messages again, not able to get enough of her poetic words.

  It’s insane.

  It’s weird.

  I’m wasting my time.

  I need to mass-delete all the messages and set up my own voicemail. If I’m going to be staying in this town for a while, I should start to establish some sort of life for myself. But I can’t bring myself to delete the messages. I need to listen to them all at least.

  Like a good book that keeps you flipping pages, I want to listen to message after message and hope for a happy ending for this woman. Which is weirder and more insane than the curiosity of listening to the messages in the first place.

  I wipe sweat from my forehead and go inside, taking solace in the whirl of the air conditioner. I spent a few hours setting up the rest of my stuff and washing all the dust-covered dishes that were left in the cabinets. Hunger takes over and I finish off the casserole Melissa cooked.

  Having no food left, I grab my keys and get in my Mustang, using the GPS to find my way into town to get groceries. Summer Hill is a small town but has a decent amount of stores for a town of its size. I get groceries and head back, hustling to get everything done in time to shower before going down to the bar.

  Fridays are busy with discounted beer and karaoke. I stay behind the bar, trying not to cringe at the country music, and watch Josh talk to the regulars, filling drink orders without even having to ask. I’ve always been a bit of a people watcher, and am able to get a good read on most within minutes of meeting.

  The night goes on and the crowd remains steady. I’m getting bored, and being bored usually leads me into trouble. Because being bored means my mind has time to wander, and when you stumble around in the dark, it’s easy to trip and fall. And falling into the truth of why my life feels so unsatisfying isn’t something I want to do.

  I tap my fingers on the bar, half-listening to Josh and an old man named Joe talk about a cow being found with its stomach ripped open by mountain lions. A group of girls walks in, dressed in shorts and tight skirts, looking like they belonged in a club, not a hole-in-the-wall tavern like The Mill House. They go for a booth in the back, and Erica, one of the waitresses working tonight go
es over to take their order, returning with a pitcher of margaritas.

  A table that emptied minutes ago still has dirty dishes on it and seeing as I have nothing else to do, I go over and pick them up, taking them into the kitchen. When I come back, I see another group of women walk through the door. Two walked in, but my eyes go to one.

  Her brunette hair blows back from the draft created by the open door, and her white dress swirls around her long, lean legs. She’s not dressed like her friends—the girls in clubbing clothes—but rather looks like she should go to a fancy tea party with the Queen of England. I watch her for a moment, unable to get a read on her and decipher if she’s stuck-up or a bit eccentric to be dressed like that in a place like this.

  Josh catches me staring and raises his eyebrows.

  “Who is that?” I ask him.

  “Sierra Belmont,” he says like the name should have some sort of impact on me. “Right, you have no idea who anyone is. Her parents pretty much own the town.”

  “They own the town?”

  He nods and turns, filling a glass with beer. “You had to see the big, white plantation house on your way into town, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to miss.”

  “That’s their house. And most of the farmland in Summer Hill belongs to them. They sell their crops to big manufacturers. They’re loaded.”

  I narrow my eyes, looking at Sierra’s pretty face. She seems too unsure of herself to be stuck-up, though the fact that she hails from a rich family would lead me to believe that to be the truth.

  “But they’re good people,” Josh goes on. I’m fairly certain everyone is a ‘good person’ to him. He has a tendency to see the good in everyone…including me. “Sierra doesn’t come in here often, though. I honestly can’t recall the last time she came in.”

  “It’s one of her friend’s birthdays,” I say, reading the lips of the woman in tight black shorts and a leopard-print top.