by Megan Rivers
But I no longer saw Galvin beside me. The more time that transpired, the more I thought that the break up was destined for us. He had to sort out his life and I had to sort out mine before we could think about a life together.
♪ ♪ ♪
After the ACT exam, Meadow was the first person I called. It was the first time I allowed myself to really reflect on what happened. When my phone card gave out in that tiny phone booth on Chestnut Street, she called me right back. “How are you feeling?”
“Really, I’m okay, in fact I feel great.” Okay, that wasn't true. I didn't feel horrible, but I didn't feel great either.
“Do you need me to come out to Camden? Once Daddy finds out, I’m sure he’ll want to visit too.”
“Meadow, believe me, I’m fine. It was the best decision for the moment. If things would have gone in completely the opposite direction―which I have thought about―I don’t think I would feel this…free―for the lack of a better word―even if I was happily engaged to him,” I explained.
In a strange way it was true. When I first met Galvin I was the one who needed the distraction from moving to Australia and being held under my father's thumb. By breaking up with Galvin I could focus on me and my own life, the opportunity I didn't have when we first met. A lot had changed in both our lives since that July plane ride.
“Do you really mean it, Stie? Don’t just say it, I want you to mean it. Don’t make me worry about you any more than I already do,” Meadow said, her voice dripping with concern.
“Honestly, Meadow, this is where I need to be right now in my life.” It was true, one hundred percent, but the more I said it, the truer it became.
“But look at what he did! To you!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking. It was then I realized that this break up affected her too. She trusted Galvin and he let her down.
“Let him do it.” I sighed. “It’s his life to live, not mine, not ours. He needs to find his own way, the only thing we can do is hope for the best. Hope he comes out at the end all right.”
She sighed and her voice came down from shrill-disbelief to empathetic. “How did you get so smart?”
“Always the element of surprise,” I said and smiled, thinking of when Galvin said that to me.
We had had good times and we learned so much from each other. Yes, he hurt me, but I hurt him too. Life is full of moments like that, but they all happen for a reason.
The days began to gain momentum. I didn’t feel weighed down, nor did I feel the constant urge to chew my finger nails. My ACT score arrived the day my application was due: I scored a 27! Marie helped me with my portfolio and I had my interview scheduled for the twelfth of November.
I smiled at strangers on the bus and instead of dragging my feet from job to job, I hopped and sang little ditties.
There were times when my heart had pains when I heard Baby, It’s Cold Outside on the radio at work and knew I would probably never relive that memory with anyone ever again. There were times I was so angry I wanted to punch him if I saw him, but those were few and far between. And of course, my smile faltered when I saw something about Galvin or Prey for Chance on a magazine at the newsstand.
At times I sighed and let my mind wander back to memories of Galvin when I saw a couple holding hands or heard the wedding bells ring at the church. During breaks at work, riding the bus, walking around town, and lulls between customers at work, my head would sometimes become so jam-packed with emotions that made my legs jump and finger tips tap incessantly out of anxious indecisiveness. I hated those pockets of time when I'd second guess a decision I thought was firm and final, the best choice―it didn't help I worked at a coffee shop with a free, steady supply of caffeine.
Despite those moments, though, I never regretted the decision to leave us behind. I truly believed that I was in the place I needed to be and I was okay with that, despite the rough lonely patches.
As the semester waned, I submerged myself in work and began erasing my memories of Galvin with Vincent Van Gogh, Viktor Borisov-Musatov and Nicolae Grigorescu. I put so much effort and passion into my work that I was admitted to Sarah Lawrence a week after my interview. Over ecstatic with a scholarship, I signed up for winter semester and put all of my attention on getting my Bachelor’s degree in Art History from Sarah Lawrence College.
Sometimes you have to accept the fact that certain things will never go back to how they used to be and you have to learn to live with it. Your past is always trying to stick its foot out and make you stumble, but you can't let it. You need to persist forward with careful fervor, looking back only to see yourself grow.
Read on for a sneak peek at the last novel
in Megan Rivers' Song for You series
A Love Ballad
Coming July 2017
Maine would no longer be my home in a few days. I had to bring the matter to Odilia tactfully―it was the only thing left to do on the long list that got me to this point.
It was the middle of December and heavy snow started to cover everything. My bedroom was drafty, but my blankets were warm. I had taken the morning off to do this; to prepare myself for this conversation. So far the only progress I made was waking up.
The plan was to approach Odilia at ten o'clock, it was a half hour of channel surfing between the end of the morning news and the beginning of her favorite soap opera.
From under the covers I glanced at the alarm clock beside me: 9:48 AM. I practiced my talking points under my breath for the next ten minutes then slipped into a pair of wool socks and warmer clothes, grabbing an envelope off my desk.
I could hear the music playing, signaling the ending credits of the morning news as I slipped into the hallway; I was nearly in between her and the television before she noticed me. “Hey, you still live here?” she asked, jokingly. Good, she was in good humor this morning.
“Can we talk?” I asked, wringing my hands, the envelope tucked under my right arm. When I noticed what I was doing, I put my hands in my pockets; I couldn't show weakness.
Odilia muted the sound and reached for her cigarettes. “Why does it sound like I'm not gonna like what you're gonna say?” She was eyeing me for more information. I hoped my body language didn't give too much away.
“Remember when I first moved in and you said you didn't really care what I did as long as you got paid by Richard each month?” I asked.
“Oh toots, you didn't go do something terrible? I ain't got any bail money for you and I can't have you bringing a babe into this house.” She blew out a puff of smoke, her eyes traveling to the TV screen momentarily.
Gosh, who did she think I was? “No, I got into a college―and you don't have to pay anything! I have a scholarship and I've saved enough money for my books and supplies.”
“What's the catch, toots?” She asked waving the cigarette in her hand around in a cloud of smoke.
“Well, it's in New York―“
“Nope. Sorry, hun, if you can't live here, you can't go. I'm relying on that grand each month from your pop. Besides, the way I understand it, if you don't follow this plan of his, you will be sent to that country down under and you don't want that, do ya?”
I took a short moment to collect myself before my blood pressure rose. “Just listen, I have a plan.”
She eyed me through her lopsidedly smeared blue eye shadow.“What kinda plan?”
“One that will make us both happy. You don't want me living here, but you also want that money. I want to go to New York, but I also want that money to go to you rather than to my father.”
“I'm listening, toots. I'm listening.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke slowly, studying me warily.
I handed her the envelope and she looked at it, taking out the contents, confused. “I give up. What am I lookin' at?”
“Richard always calls on the first of the month. I bought bus tickets to come back here during those dates. The rest of the days you can do your thing here, by yourself, and I can do my thing in New York. He'll never know. I b
ought bus tickets for February, March, April, and May... the rest of the school year. This way you get your money and your privacy and I get my freedom and a college education.”
She let it sink in, nodding her head softly. “I gotta hand it to ya, toots, this could work.”
“So you're good with this plan? You're on board?” I tried not to celebrate early but a smile broke across my face.
“As long as I get that grand each month, I'm up for whatever.” She handed me the envelope and surreptitiously winked at me. “You clever girl.”
I ran back to my room and did a victory dance. I could not wait! Everything was falling into place!
Meadow and Kevin flew to Maine when I planned to move to New York, nearly a month after my talk with Odilia. It was the first time I saw them since last summer. Kevin looked older, the lines around his eyes seemed deeper, but they soon disappeared when he smiled. “Christie!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms open on the train station platform. I ran into them and he hugged me like a proud father. “How are you doing?”
“Wonderful!” The smile on my face grew larger as the day to move to New York grew nearer. “Meadow!” I exclaimed when she came into sight. She walked up next to her father. Her hair grew longer and she began straightening it, which made her look older, more mature.
“Stie! How are you? I’ve missed you so much!” Her rib-cracking hug made me feel at home. She had been concerned about my well being since she last left me with Aunt Odilia and even more so when Galvin and I broke up. Everyone tip-toed around the subject, not believing I was as well as I said I was.
“Fabulous.” I responded. “Much more fabulous now that you two are here and I’m leaving in the morning!”
They both smiled at my bubbly attitude. “Well then,” Meadow said, extending the arm carrier on her luggage, “let’s get this show on the road.” We walked off the platform, Meadow and Kevin on either side of me.
♪ ♪ ♪
Kevin and Meadow spent the night at Lord Camden Inn, though Abbington Cottage would have been closer. Even though I was okay with what happened between Galvin and me, I still did not want to revisit the ghosts lurking outside Abbington Cottage.
Meanwhile, I had packed everything I owned nearly a week prior and I sat in my room that night, unable to sleep. Everything I owned, everything that was rightfully mine and in my name sat in those three suitcases. I thought back to Kellyn’s room, Meadow’s room, my old room room in Chicago and compared them to the one I was in. I used to have a bedroom full of ornaments, but gave them up more quickly than I should have. I sifted through my belongings and the most important things I acquired in my seventeen years of life took up three suitcases.
Sitting on my bed, my back against the headboard, I watched the moonlight grow stronger through my tiny window until it waned and I counted down the minutes on my watch.
Kevin rented a car and was in front of the house at seven the next morning. I heard tires crunch on the wet gravel outside before Odilia made it to the living room television. I looked out the window and saw the rented camouflage green Hummer out the window and smiled. I bolted for the front door and saw Kevin and Meadow walking up the muddy path.
“Are you ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Meadow asked in a quiet tone. She didn’t want to admit it, but Odilia intimidated her.
I wrapped my arms around her in a hug, the cold air clinging to her red peacoat. “You have no idea.”
With open arms, I welcomed them inside. We walked straight into no-longer my bedroom. “Packed already? Why am I not surprised?” Meadow laughed.
There were three suitcases lined up against the wall and one shoe box sitting on top of the dresser. “You should really give Meadow some pointers on how to pack light,” Kevin said, making his way towards my luggage.
Meadow mockingly laughed at her father.
“Well, we have a seven hour drive ahead of us, we better get going.” Kevin carried my two suitcases past Meadow with a smile.
Meadow grabbed my other suitcase and followed her father. I grabbed the shoebox off my dresser and turned to walk out of the bedroom. I looked back for a moment. Yes, I would visit on the first of each month, but this was the end. I saw nights of studying, Galvin strumming his guitar, myself falling into bed exhausted after double shifts. That was all behind me now. Ahead was a new adventure.
Because of Meadow’s frequent bathroom stops and Kevin’s need for a constant cup of coffee, we didn’t arrive on campus until four in the afternoon. “Tweed house, we need to find Tweed house,” I said, looking from my welcome letter to the buildings that lined the street.
“Where is campus? There’s only houses here,” Meadow said, leaning towards the cold window, looking for something that told us where to go.
“Oh! There!” I said, looking up from the address on the paper and pointing to the house beside us. “Look, you can see, it says Tweed House above the front door.”
Pulling the car up the parking lot behind the house, I stared in awe. “Man, I want to go to school here,” Meadow said. We entered the house and automatically ran into my RA. “Your room is upstairs, turn right, last door on left,” she instructed, handing me a manilla envelope and two keys. It looked like she had somewhere to be and quickly disappeared around the corner.
Meadow and I trudged up the stairs and I was drenched in anticipation. I wanted to savor the moment, but was also dying to see my room, to move in and live like a college student!
As we approached the door I saw my name, Christine, written on construction paper next to Allyssa and Candacie. Excitement shot through my veins as I slipped the key into the lock.
Before I opened the door, Meadow and I exchanged anxious expressions. I think Meadow was as giddy as I was since she opted out of a dorm to live at home while she attended the University of Chicago.
As I pushed the door open, sunlight rushed in through the windows to greet us like an enthusiastic house pet. The windows were tall and narrow with a long, flat window pane I could sit upon.
In the far corner of the room it was evident that one of my roommates was already living there; the bottom bunk and adjacent desk were covered in hues of black and deep red while the top bunk was bare.
Turning to the window, I saw the dead vines attempting to crawl across it, dying for spring to come so they could blossom over the window pane. Book shelves were built into the wall here and there. It was simply charming. I could already imagine the picture frame there and my music tapes there. Yes. This was home already.
We unloaded my whole three suitcases into my dorm. I chose the bed closest to the door and Meadow immediately began putting on bedsheets and my favorite blue and purple quilt. “I’m going to move the car,” Kevin said and left Meadow and me in my dorm.
After flattening out any wrinkles on my newly made bed, Meadow deposited her brown leather book bag on the bedspread and unfastened the buckles. “I have a present for you,” she said. It was a beautiful book bag, but you needed patience to use it, and patience was something Meadow sometimes had in abundance. She pulled out a box that seemed to take up most of the room in her bag, because now it lay flat on the flimsy mattress. The box was covered in pages ripped out of a catalogue that Meadow found on the plane.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I sat down next to her on the bed.
“I know, but you need something that says College Student and Best Frister of thee Meadow Langston.” She spoke with her hands to annunciate certain words.
I smiled and ripped off the makeshift wrapping paper. “A CD player!” I was in shock. I had never owned one before and ever since I accidentally broke my walkman, I had to rely on my memory or the radio if I wanted to hear my music.
“Stocked and loaded!” Meadow said, pulling the CD player out of the box. She flipped open the CD door and a CD titled “Frister Mix” was inside. She placed the CD player on the desk closest to my bed and plugged it in. Aaron Carter’s Bounce filtered through the speakers. “Remember the first da
y we met?” Meadow asked.
“Yeah, you were singing Backstreets Back into your peanut butter and jelly!” I laughed.
“Ah, but I taught you how to Bounce, first and foremost.” She stood up and started dancing. “Come on, I wanna see you bounce, Christie,” Meadow said turning up the music. She took my hand as we danced our foolishly choreographed moves to the most ridiculous song I've ever heard played on campus.
“Hello?” There was a knock on the door and Meadow turned down the music. A girl, dressed in black and a lot of zippers was at the door. She couldn’t be much taller than five feet and made a face at our music like someone was cooking fish. “Are you,” she glanced at the door, “Christine and Allyssa?”
“Hi, I’m Christie, are you Candace?” I went over to shake her hand.
She shook her head back and forth, not taking my hand. “It’s Candacie. Ken-day-see.” When she spoke I couldn’t help but look at the piercings around her mouth. Call me sheltered, but I had never seen them on anyone in real life before.
“I’m Meadow.” Meadow came up behind me, stepping over my bed and mussing up the sheets. Candacie didn’t say anything, but nodded her head in acknowledgement. She then sat down at her desk and flipped open her laptop.
“Hey girls, how are things going?” Kevin had just entered the room and he rubbed his hands together to warm them up.
“Great,” Meadow said then looked at me, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.
“This is one of my roommates, Candacie,” I introduced, motioning to my new roommate, as Kevin walked towards my corner.
“Are you the male parental unit?” Candacie asked with a blank face.
“Christie’s father?” Kevin asked, confused by Candacie’s nature.
“Practically,” Meadow answered putting her arms around both Kevin and me.
“Hello, hello!” A cheery, bright voice came from outside the door, followed by a knock. A tall dirty blonde-haired girl was pushing open the door. “Roomies!” She exclaimed coming towards Meadow and me with her arms open for a hug. “I’ve never had roommates before, I am so excited!”