All She Wanted (Letting Go)

by Deese, Nicole

  He stared at me intensely, slowly raising the side of his mouth into a lopsided grin. He leaned in closer, his hot breath reaching the flush of my cheeks.

  “You don’t have to play hostile, Charlie. The engagement ploy was your idea if I remember correctly. It’s too bad we had to ruin a good thing just to suit your guilty conscience. I never wanted marriage.” He moved closer to me, our bodies practically smashed together in the tight space. Awareness buzzed in my head as I heard Briggs’ words scream through my mind like a freight train. Alex lifted his hand to my face, tracing my jaw, before trailing a finger down my neck.

  I jerked back, “Don’t touch me.”

  He chuckled at me and reached out again for my face, this time, I grabbed his finger, wrenching it back, reveling in the startled cry that came out of his mouth. The look he gave me after he yanked his hand out of my grasp was one of shock and amazement—not exactly what I had been going for.

  “I said, don’t touch me!” I backed up a few more steps, staring straight into his face. “I am not the same stupid, naive girl, you used to know, Alex.”

  He didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, come on now…you weren’t that naive, darlin’. I have a very good memory.” He flashed a sinister smile at me, and this time I actually felt the bile in my mouth. Clamping his hand on my arm, just above my wrist, he pulled me toward him. Leaning down close to my ear he whispered, “I’d be up for a refresher course though. I’m the Agent for this band tonight, my hotel is just down the street, why don’t we-”

  I didn’t let him finish. Though Alex was twice my weight, and towered over me, I did the move I had practiced with Briggs a hundred times in the field. I scooped my arm inward, whipping it up into a block while I turned my free hand into a heel-strike, making contact just under the side of his rib cage. The release was immediate. He stumbled backward, colliding with the wall.

  “It’s like you said, we were both made to stand out…on our own.”

  I turned just as Camille came around the corner, relief flooding her face when she saw me—until she looked closer.

  “Charlie…are you, okay? Did something happen?” She looked down the hallway, her eyes growing huge with panic as she looked from Alex to me.

  I gripped her arm, pulling her to me as I forced my shaky legs to walk. “I will be—let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Briggs

  Once I was back at the station, I reached into my back pocket for my phone. It was just after midnight, which for Charlie meant just after one in the morning. It had become an unspoken rule between us to text goodnight—no matter what craziness had been in our day, or how limited we were on our talk-time.

  We hadn’t missed a single evening—until tonight.

  Me: You asleep, Shortcake?

  I stared at the screen, hoping she wasn’t. The unsettled feeling in my gut wasn’t going to rest until I heard from her, I could tell. An instant later my phone buzzed in my hand.

  Miss Strawberry Shortcake: No. Sorry…I forgot to text. Goodnight.

  Me: Is everything okay?

  Two minutes went by before she replied. I knew the answer before I even looked at my phone. Something was wrong.

  Miss Strawberry Shortcake: Don’t freak out…but I saw Alex tonight. He was at the coffee house.

  Charlie

  Not even a full second went by before Briggs was calling me. I silenced the vibration immediately as I was already curled up in my tiny cocoon aboard the bus. I answered with a harsh whisper, ignoring the groans of several exhausted students around me.

  “Briggs…I can’t talk, people are asleep.”

  “Well that’s too dang bad. Figure it out, Charlie. I’m not getting off this phone until you tell me what happened…and I mean what really happened.”

  “Just a second.”

  I rolled my eyes in hopeless frustration and climbed down the bunk ladder. Walking in the dark with only my sleeping boxers and tank top on, I made my way to the rows of seats near the front of the bus. I slumped down in one, resting my head against the window.

  “Okay,” I said, breathing out in a huff.

  The good thing about it being mid-summer in Georgia, was that the generator on the bus had to work overtime in order to regulate the air-conditioning. This thankfully created enough of a noise diversion for me to speak without disturbing the others in the back, or worry too much about someone overhearing me.

  “What happened?” His voice was hard, unwavering.

  “He was there as the Agent of the band we went to see…he found me during the intermission,” I said.

  “I swear Charlie if he even laid a finger on you I’ll-”

  “I’m okay Briggs, I promise.” I took a deep breath, debating on what I should tell him next. “I think I’m still just in a bit of shock.”

  “Please, tell me what happened, Charlie.” There was an unmistakable plea in his voice that flamed a fire in the pit of my belly.

  I took a deep breath. “Before tonight I thought I needed closure—to understand why he left me, why he walked out without saying goodbye. I spent months thinking of what I’d say to him if I ever got the chance. I thought if I could convince him to take me back, I would finally be happy again.”

  I could hear Briggs breathing on the other end, which was the only way I knew he was still there, listening to me.

  “But tonight…it was like I was seeing him for the first time. I understand now why my parents acted the way they did when I was with him, and I realized something else, too.”

  “What’s that?” Briggs was quiet, concern etched deep into his every word.

  “I never loved him—not they way I know love to be now, anyway.” I moved my legs to rest underneath me. “I was so desperate, Briggs. I tried to fill a void with him—one I realize now was never meant for him to fill.”

  Briggs was quiet again for a moment, and I was grateful. My confession didn’t need commentary; it just needed to be heard. Tonight held more benefit to me than simply gaining closure; it had also provided a giant revelation of contrast.

  Alex wasn’t love, because Alex wasn’t Briggs.

  “I wish I was there with you right now,” he whispered.

  A warm tingle rushed over every pore of my body.

  “I wish that every day.” Emotion welled in my throat as my eyes pricked with hot tears. In less than two seconds, they were rolling down my cheeks.

  “Are you crying, Shortcake?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Maybe just a little,” I peeped, “but not about Alex.”

  “I know,” he said softly.

  “Briggs?” I asked, feeling a unique surge of bravery.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know the night before I left to go back to Austin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you ran to my house at midnight?”

  I heard him exhale. “Yeah.”

  “Did you really run all the way just to tell me the this-isn’t-really-a-goodbye speech?”

  Silence.

  “I mean, it’s fine if you did…it just felt like…before my dad came outside, like you might have wanted to say something different.” My nerves were slowly taking over my whole body like an alien invasion.

  Did I REALLY just ask him that? Oh my—

  He sighed loudly into the phone, “Charlie.”

  I had never known my name to sound mournful—until this moment, until it left his lips and entered my ears. It was like a sorrow-filled dirge, penetrating my heart, and bruising my soul, all at once.

  “Help me understand, Briggs…please. I need to know if-”

  “You mean more to me than-” he stopped, several seconds ticking by, “You mean so much to me, Charlie. I needed you to believe that then—on that night—almost as much as I need for you to believe it now, tonight.”

  I swallowed, a steady stream of tears flowing once again, “I do believe that, Briggs, but…”

  But what? But why
can’t you love me back the way I love you? But this sucks and hurts and feels like every time I hang up with you a little more of my heart decays?

  “I’m so incredibly proud of you—of what you’re accomplishing. I can’t wait to watch you graduate and hear all about the offers you get. Maybe I can come to one of your concerts in Rome or Spain or Zimbabwe.”

  I laughed, wiping my face clean of tears and snot with the bottom of my shirt.

  “I highly doubt I’ll be playing in any concert halls in Zimbabwe, Briggs.”

  “Hey—don’t limit yourself,” he teased.

  I relaxed into the seat, the tense moment vanishing with each new second that passed.

  “Well…I know something else you’d be proud of me for.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that, Shortcake?”

  “I used both a wrist release and a finger twist on Alex tonight—it worked like magic.”

  “Charlie! You promised me that he didn’t-”

  Uh oh. He was angry.

  “Whoa…whoa…whoa…hold your horses, cowboy. I promised you that I was fine, and I am. But I thought you should know that our little field sessions worked. It was the most incredible feeling—you should have seen his face, Briggs.”

  “It’s probably a good thing I didn’t, Charlie. He wouldn’t have gotten off with a simple wrist-release or a finger twist as you so sweetly called it.”

  I smiled, “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” He sighed, “We should probably call it a night. Do you think you can try to avoid any more run-ins with your ex before you get back to campus?”

  I laughed, covering my mouth as I remembered the late—or rather, early hour. “I think I can, yes. Goodnight, Briggs.”

  “Goodnight Shortcake.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Briggs

  The months seemed to compound one after the other once Charlie got back into her school routine. We still connected daily in some way—even if it was only a text goodnight, but her schedule had become much more demanding, as had her practice time. She had been receiving offers left and right as prospective agents came to listen to her play. With each one, I created a new boundary to stand behind. I didn’t want to sway any decision she made—no matter what the ramifications were for me. It was her choice. Her future.

  Whether consciously or not, there had been a shift in our interactions since the “Alex encounter” in mid-July. We had teetered too close to the edge of something more than friends that night, and I knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to handle it a second time. I didn’t need to test that theory.

  Instead, I did everything in my power to keep us from having another one like it.

  That, however, may have been the wrong tactic.

  Me: So what did you decide? Turkey day is just two days away…when are you rolling in?

  Miss Strawberry Shortcake: Camille really wants me to meet her family, and I only have three days off. I’m just gonna stick around here. I told my parents earlier today…they’re gonna visit my Aunt in Tulsa now.

  Charlie and I had been counting down to Thanksgiving weekend for months. Not only was I dying to get to see her (on something other than a phone screen or laptop), but I was going to get to be near her, for days. I had even planned to take her to Angie’s on Black Friday for leftovers and game night. To say I was disappointed with her change of plans would have been the understatement of the century. It was difficult to be understanding when I couldn’t shake the feeling that this decision was personal—not logical like she wanted me to believe.

  Me: Wow…that’s a bummer, Charlie. I was really looking forward to seeing you. It’s been months…

  Miss Strawberry Shortcake: I was just there, Briggs…Labor Day, remember? Please tell Angie and Cody “Happy Thanksgiving” for me.

  Me: Just here? That was three months ago! And of the two whole days you were here…I saw you for maybe two hours of it, with your parents!

  I was fuming as I saw her reply, she knew exactly what she was doing…and so did I.

  Miss Strawberry Shortcake: Need to go…I’m late for class.

  I stared at the phone in my hand like it was my mortal enemy.

  Instead of being the vessel that connected us, it felt more like the barrier that separated us.

  Charlie was slipping away from me more and more each day, and I was powerless to stop it.

  Charlie

  It hadn’t all been a lie.

  Camille had asked me to go home with her to meet her family over the holiday weekend, conveniently they only lived twenty-minutes away from school. I may have only had three days off, but that turn-around time would never have stopped me from coming home in the past. And it wasn’t the reason I had chosen to stay back now. Neither distance nor time bothered me, but the status of my heart did.

  That bothered me very much.

  The difference was slight at first, almost as if I had imagined it. We would talk, text, email, video-chat, like everything was fine—like we were fine. But really, we weren’t. Something had changed.

  I could sense it in his word choice, I could hear it in his voice, and I could see it in his face during our Wednesday morning coffee dates online. The only problem was, my heart wouldn’t conform to this change.

  Even though I knew he was pulling away from me, my will to fight it was stronger than my ability to let go.

  Hadn’t that always been the case? Yes.

  I had gone over our conversations in my head countless times, searching for the cause of our regression. I always came back to that night in July, after my run-in with Alex. I had taken a risk that night, hoping for something more than friends to be the result. But like always, he had let me down easy, reminding me exactly what we were: Friends.

  I wanted that to be enough, to tide me over for forever, but the track of denial only went so far. And my train was running out of steam.

  I couldn’t go home and face him. Pretending indifference over the phone was one thing, but having to keep up this act while being near him? That wasn’t possible—not yet anyway.

  I didn’t know how to un-love Briggs, but I had to try.

  I had to.

  **********

  “What are you going to do with this? Ever going to finish it?” Camille asked, holding up the composition I had started a year ago—the one I still hadn’t finished.

  She lay on my bed, rifling through my old music binder as I typed an email reply to my mom. She was always so good at keeping me updated on everything going on back home, no matter how small. This made the big stuff—the Briggs stuff for instance—feel like less of the giant life-sucking complication that it was. Somehow hearing about the neighborhood holiday bizarre, which was right around the corner, was just what I needed right now.

  That was the kind of information I could process. It was simple, concrete, solid.

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I just can’t seem to finish that one,” I replied.

  “Why is that? It’s the only one that’s not completed, out of this entire book…”

  I shrugged, clicking out of my email.

  Camille had moved into my dorm nearly two months ago now. After Sasha was expelled for drinking on campus (again), I requested Camille as my new roommate. She proved to be a great match—not that there was any doubt about that. She had become a great friend to me. In addition to my texts and occasional phone calls with Tori, Camille had quickly become the strongest female influence in my life—outside of my mother.

  I knew that if not for my time at home during spring term, my fate would have likely mirrored Sasha’s. It was bittersweet for me to think of that season of my life. On the one hand, I was grateful for what my time home had shown me—how it had grown and shaped me, reminding me of the importance of my faith, showing me hope and love, but on the other hand…

  I stood and rubbed my palms anxiously on my pants. Winter break was almost here. Avoidance was not going to be an option for me much longer. I couldn’t skip Christmas lik
e I had skipped Thanksgiving—four weeks was hardly a three-day weekend.

  “You have to talk to him when you go back, Charlie. He deserves to hear it, as much as you need to say it.”

  I was startled by the change in subject matter.

  I sighed. “I’m not saying anything, Camille. We’ve been over this a thousand times…you’re really starting to get on my nerves.” I rolled my eyes.

  “But what if you’re wrong? What if there’s a reason he hasn’t said more…what if he’s waiting for some reason?”

  I spun around, my hands coming up to my hips defensively.

  “I’m not wrong, and even if I were…there is no reason he would keep feelings like that inside. He doesn’t work that way. Briggs says everything he thinks—believe me, he is not shy. I’ve been on the receiving end of many an uncomfortable conversation because of that fact. If he...”

  I couldn’t even say the words, it hurt too much to hope that they could be true.

  “If he loves you…then what?”

  “Then he would have said so already. Opportunity has not lacked between us, Camille…we talk every single day. There is no reason, there is no excuse, there are just facts—the same ones I have told you over and over. He doesn’t love me, not the way I…not the way I love him. Please, I can’t keep having this conversation. It’s not helping.”

  “I’m sorry…I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.” She shrugged apologetically. “I just want to see your fairytale ending.”

  I shook my head sadly, “Take it from me, Camille, there is no such thing as a fairytale ending.”

  Briggs

  The chief insisted on Christmas lights.

  Today was December first, and today, like every other year that had come before it, was “light day”. I groaned inwardly as I stared at the three giant Rubbermaid containers in front of me. I hated this job…that was no secret. But this year, I seemed to hate it even more.