Layla walks in and sits at the table. She doesn’t say anything and I know why. She’s waiting for me to be caffeinated. With that thought, there’s a tap on the door and Layla jumps up letting the waiter, and more importantly, my life-force into the room. Thankfully, she deals with him as I’m not sure my brain has the capacity to at the moment. I devour a cup of coffee then pour another.
“Talk,” I mutter and Layla raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t respond to my rude demand. She knows what to expect before eight a.m. even though I asked her to wake me early.
“You may have noticed Ms. Tinder hasn’t arrived yet. She was unexpectedly delayed and, therefore, won’t be arriving until tomorrow.” I release a breath and nod my head at a smirking Layla.
Two hours later, and slightly more refreshed and awake, I find myself at Rye on the Rocks Beach staring at the surf. This is a pretty local place. It’s not that easy to find half decent surf in New Hampshire, and this spot is perfect with the right weather. I haven’t surfed for years. Sometimes I miss the freedom that was taken for granted with youth. I used to come down here a lot. It took my mind off things—Bel mainly.
I was lost back then, and if I’m being honest, I still am. My feelings confused me. I always wanted her, but when she got together with Keith that was the end of everything. The truth was that their relationship made our friendship stronger. I had watched her from afar. Always wondering how to approach her. She was so happy and free, never seemed burdened by everyday life and I assumed she’d go on to do great things. I never saw her with any guys, I figured she didn’t want a boyfriend. Not wanting to drag her into our circle of friends, because the girls were bitches and I knew they would tear her apart.
As it turns out, when she got together with Keith, she could actually hold her own—she was a strong little thing. Then when she and Keith became an item, he doted on her. Their love was apparent for all to see. It was only about six months into their relationship, as Bel and I spent more time together, I started to realize that maybe a lot of what Keith felt wasn’t love, but more lust. I’m not sure Keith was as totally devoted as I first thought, and I wondered if he ever strayed. I never knew. He distanced himself from me as I got closer to Bel. He didn’t like the closeness we shared. We’d fought over it, but because I could kick his ass he couldn’t make me stay away. He knew how strong Bel was back then, and that if he pushed her, she would probably walk away. So he played the dutiful boyfriend—to her face. I can’t say for certain what he did behind her back. There were always rumors, but nothing substantial. Nothing that was concrete enough that I would willingly cause her sadness.
As Bel and I got closer, we did a lot of things that could only be described as old-fashioned courting. That included no kissing, but everything that came before, such as the touches, the looks, the secrets shared and the hard ‘what if’ conversations…
“What if I wasn’t with Keith?” She looked up at me from the grass she was sitting crossed legged on.
“You know, if you weren’t with Keith, I would make you mine,” I told her staring into her green eyes, blood whooshing in my ears.
“You would?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
I didn’t understand how she never realized this. “Of course,” I said no more. Instead, we stared at each other and I could feel the tension. It was something I’d never felt before. It was sexual. Primal. I wanted her to be my first. I wanted her to be my forever.
“Maybe I should run Keith over with my truck,” I said, keeping my face impassive, even though my hands were clenched. Then I let a smirk tickle the corner of my mouth and her eyes darted to it. She smiled back and then snorted, which made us both laugh. The laughter covered over the previous conversation. But it was strained laughter, and I know that was because we were both ignoring the pull we felt.
Whatever we shared it was thinly veiled by the cloak of friendship. I knew, even back then, that eventually we would get to a point where a decision would have to be made.
I made that decision.
Sometimes regret makes you her bitch.
I pace my bedroom, worried that Keith had decided not to work today. As it turns out, they wanted him to work tonight, not today. Asking him instead to do a day shift during the week. I must admit I was momentarily thrown, and even felt guilty for like a second, because I’d just assumed he wasn’t going to work being the lazy jackass that he is. I soon gave myself a good telling off for feeling guilty about anything to do with that man. The time has long gone that I have sympathy for him, in any way, it got washed away with the countless tears he’s caused.
I hear the tell-tale click of the front door and force myself to stand still for five minutes, just listening to the car start and drive away, making sure he’s gone.
Taking the few steps into the bathroom I stare at myself in the mirror. My mood has lightened in the last twenty-four hours, and I can see the change in my face. I don’t look as old as I once did.
The hair dye box in my hand tempts me as I contemplate whether to use it. I don’t think Keith will notice, he rarely looks at me anymore, so it’s doubtful he’d notice that my gray hair has gone.
Forty minutes later and I have hair dye all over the bathroom and a very dubious looking white towel. Still, my hair is much better, which in turn makes me feel more confident in myself than I have in years. Making quick work of cleaning away most of the evidence, I find the dye washes off the bathroom tiles easily. My skin, however, that’s a different story altogether. By the time I have all the remnants off, I feel like I’ve been to one of those evil spas. You know the ones that try and massage you with instruments, and you feel like you’ve had a going over with sandpaper. Then they try and convince you that it’s good for you.
Still, I’ve decided to put a plan in place—Operation Fixing Myself. Okay, so the name’s not original, but I don’t need to put up banners. I just need to have a plan, to find the real me again. I want to be the person I was before ‘she’ was ripped from me, through years of abuse, neglect, and loneliness. Amanda telling me she was coming was all the wake-up call I needed. After the euphoria of her surprising me when the news had worn off, I’d sat and thought about it and started to worry. I know it’s silly, Amanda has never been the type of person to judge anyone, especially her best friend. But let’s be realistic, it’s been ten years. She has friends in France, and she’s spoken about them—Joelle, Celia, and Estelle. I bet they are all elegant Parisians. All designer gear and impeccably turned out at all times. They wouldn’t let gray hairs appear in their perfect locks. They wouldn’t wear jeans that were frayed at the leg ends and had faded through years of wear. I look down at my tattered jeans, a tightness in my throat.
“Well, not unless they were designer and supposed to look like this,” I mutter and sigh. Sitting down on the toilet lid, I allow myself a moment of self-pity, before I roll my eyes. Knowing what I need—a visit to the shop—I pull my still wet hair back into a plait and put on my chucks. Shutting the front door behind me, I start the walk to the only home I still have left. Nearly tripping as I falter thinking about my own words, thinking that I’m not going to have it for much longer as someone has decided to claim it. After all these years, I’m going to lose it, like everything else. I stop walking and bend over, placing my hands on my knees, while taking a few deep breaths. Then getting up slowly, I pull myself together once again. This is the time I wake up, this is the time I make myself more, this is the time I start fighting… for me.
I meander inside the shop with ease this time. Unlike earlier today, all is quiet, but that’s what I expected as it’s nearly midnight. I don’t want to turn the lights on, so instead I blindly fumble under the kitchen cupboard until I locate my torch. Pointing it toward the floor, hoping it will go unnoticed, I follow the light with my feet until I get to the radio. Turning it over and opening the battery compartment, I’m momentarily thrown when I notice the batteries inside. Switching it on, I jolt as Bonnie Raitt’s – I Can’t Make Y
ou Love Me blares from the small box. It nearly slips out of my hands as I panic, trying to turn the volume down. Once I’ve managed to bring the beautiful song to a reasonable level, I stand still staring at the dials as the lyrics penetrate the wall I’ve built around me. I gasp at the pain, which is like a fresh wound in my chest, like a physical thing crushing me. I quickly feel inside my back pockets until my hands grasp my small wallet, the one that keeps more of my memories locked away. Carefully, I pull it out and unclip it. Taking a deep breath, I dig out the photographs that I keep locked away in there. Stumbling in the dark to the nearest table, one that’s at the back of shop, I’m hopefully not spotted as I stare at the photos. The first one is of Amanda and me, we’re posing before a night out. We were so young and free back then. We had so much fun together, always laughing, smiling, and feeling alive. Sighing and dropping my shoulders, I realize I let that life go too easily.
Placing the photo on the table in front of me, I close my eyes and take a second to pull in the strength I need for the next one. Opening my eyes again, I greedily drink in every part of this photo. It was taken about a month before Danny left. I took it on a night out. The whole group was together. We were out at a bar a few towns over. Keith had gone missing about an hour before, and I was passed the point where I still looked for him when he disappeared. We’d been together about eight months, and the honeymoon period was definitely over. He often went missing on nights out, and I’d stopped tackling him about it. The truth was that I don’t think I truly wanted to know where he was, and or, what he was doing. Or who he was doing, which was more likely. Ignorance is bliss, right?
Danny, Amanda, Tommy and I had been playing pool and getting drunk. We were all laughing about something and I whipped out a disposable camera, which I took everywhere with me back then. I was scared to miss out on one glorious moment we spent together and not willing to take the chance that I’d ever forget. I think I knew our time was coming to an end, college was beckoning those who were going. The photo was a fond memory for me. Danny had a subtle grin playing at the corners of his mouth, Tommy was doing a stupid thumbs up sign, and Amanda was leaning on the bar trying to avoid the camera. They were all sick of me and my camera, snapping them at the best, and usually the worst of times.
I let my index finger graze across Danny’s face. Just looking at him, even now, I feel like a Mack truck has been lodged in my throat. Swallowing twice, I pull in my restraint.
He left me.
He never loved me.
Like the song said, I couldn’t make him love me.
I remember the week before he left, Keith and I had been arguing. We were spending less time together. I’d been thinking more and more about the words Danny had said only a few weeks before.
“You know, if you weren’t with Keith, I would make you mine.”
He had said it with such conviction that I’d believed him. When we were at school, before even the idea of Keith had existed, there had been Danny. He had, however, always ignored me, except the playful banter we shared. I had tried the eye fluttering and the twirling of my hair. I’d even tried playing the damsel in distress once, pretending I couldn’t get a jar of sprinkles open when he had come into the shop. He had laughed at me, then rolled his eyes and smiled, dazzling me. He came behind the counter un-popping the lid. The rest of the group then started to filter in and Danny quickly made his way back to the other side, ignoring me. Eventually, I’d given up hope on Danny and decided to just fawn over hot guys from afar, but the moment that Keith defended me, and done so by saying I was hot was enough for me to fall for him. In my defense, I was young and stupid and hadn’t really had a boyfriend before. The little interest he showed in me was all I needed at the time. It took my focus from Danny, and it was all about Keith from then on.
Still, I’d always had a soft spot for Danny, and from the moment I got together with Keith I was able to watch Danny up close and personal. The dating was the hardest, especially the parties. We would all go together and Danny would have whichever girl of the moment hanging on his every word. I laughed and smiled with them all, and almost convinced myself I didn’t care. Almost.
At first it wasn’t so bad, I was getting to know Danny and although I was attracted to him, my feelings didn’t run deep. I didn’t know him enough for them to run deep. Keith was showering me with attention and I thought I was completely in love with him. However, Danny and I spent more time together in the confines of the group, and I found we always gravitated toward each other. Having a similar sense of humor amongst other things. We ended up spending more and more time together. Then from that, our own friendship blossomed. It helped that he and Amanda got on so well too. I’d once suggested to Amanda that she might want to date him. I forced that little nugget out of my mouth, almost choking as I did. She laughed and told me she saw Danny like an annoying brother, which made me giggle and instantly feel better. I ignored the latter.
So when Danny told me how he felt, I’d gone home feeling torn. Amanda and I had decided to go to the beach that morning and after sunbathing for a while, and dozing on and off, I felt drops of freezing cold water all over me. Sitting bolt upright in shock, and gasping at the coldness, it had taken a few moments for my brain to catch up to what was going on. I quickly realized Danny was standing at my side, laughing his head off. Rubén was there too, all surfer looks with his scruffy blond hair. Standing close to Amanda, his laughter almost drowned Danny’s out. However, Amanda had a look on her face, that said, ‘I’m gonna kill you while you sleep.’ The guys had been surfing and were now, instead, trying to piss us off. After certain words were exchanged and the boys knew exactly how we felt, they offered us a ride back home. On the way, we passed a fair in the next town and decided to stop for a bit. As we ambled around, Amanda saw the Ferris wheel and was desperate to go on it. Being that I was scared of heights, I flatly refused. Rubén had taken the opportunity to grab Amanda’s hand and drag her onto the ride. He’d always liked her, but again, she only saw him as a brother.
I often wondered what it was that she was looking for.
While they lined up waiting for the ride, Danny and I walked over to the empty grass behind the stalls. As we sat there, the conversation had turned to the girl he was seeing—Whitney Bass. She was pretty and actually quite sweet. But she seemed more hung up on him than he was on her. He told me that they weren’t serious and that he was ending it this week. I asked why and all he had said was, “Why settle?” I stared at him for a moment and then replied with words that I hadn’t ever uttered aloud, not even to myself.
“What if I wasn’t with Keith?”
I hadn’t ever meant to say them to Danny, it was just a thought process that I was having. I’m not sure if Danny assumed I was asking him the question directly, or if I was trying to say something without actually saying the words. The moment they were out, though, I knew I wondered. When he answered that he would be with me, I was shocked. I tried to deny the butterflies that suddenly came alive in my stomach. The next day, I had fussed over Keith, feeling like I’d somehow betrayed him. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a young, confused girl. That’s all I was—a girl.
After that I’d avoided Danny for a few weeks. Until, one day, I felt I needed to be honest. Danny’s parents owned a big farmhouse just outside of town. I borrowed my pop’s car and drove over. His mom answered the door and told me he was working out in the barn. I ambled toward the big barn which was further down the lane. I could see the light from the old building in the distance and it was like a beam, trapping me and drawing me toward it. As my feet approached the barn, I could hear Higher by Creed blasting out, waking up the night. I walked inside and there was no way that Danny could hear me over the music. He was across the other side of the barn, doing pull ups on some makeshift frame and he was mouthing the words to the song. I watched him for a few seconds, taking him all in. As I got closer he noticed me, jumped down, grabbed his towel, and wiping his face he turned to the stereo and
muted the volume. He cocked his head to the side, pulling his eyebrows in quizzically.
“Bel?”
“Danny.” I breathed his name out huskily. My want right then was very obvious.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was… I…”
“Bel? Are you okay? Is everything, okay?” He walked forward grabbing my upper arms gently.
As I stared into his eyes, I was drawn into them. I leant forward my heart beating rapidly. “I just want to know…”
“What?” he asked confusion clear on his face.
“This,” I whispered, then closed the last few inches between us, placing my lips on his. Gently I moved my mouth, and although at first he seemed stuck, frozen in place, within moments his lips met mine, synchronizing and fitting like puzzle pieces only ever meant for each other.
“No!” he suddenly shouted pulling back from me. My eyes widened and my heart drummed across my whole body. “This is wrong! Keith’s a friend.”
I felt winded at his words. When only weeks before he’d told me he wanted to be with me. “I thought… you said… at the fair—”
He cut me off. “Forget what I said at the fair, I was still drunk from the night before. You and me? It’s never gonna happen.”
Finally Unbroken Page 4