Behind the Strings

by Courtney Giardina

  I had been in relationships before, but Logan was right. They weren’t real. They were always with people I knew weren’t actually ready for anything. They would leave before I would fall for them and that way I’d never get hurt. The good guys, the ones who opened doors for me, sent me flowers just because and brought over soup when I was sick, those guys never stood a chance. As I lay there cold, wet, and half-naked, I streamed through all the years of my life. The moments my dad was in it and the ones he should’ve been but wasn’t. It didn’t make me sad. I didn’t cry. Instead I was angry. Angry at him for not giving a damn and angry at myself because I did.

  I rolled myself off the bed and scrounged through my storage bench underneath the window seat for an old journal I hadn’t opened in years. Sitting myself comfortably against the windowsill, I flipped to the first empty page. The ball of the pen lay frozen for a minute, but then it came to me. I just started to write. Word after word, it was ongoing. I scribbled a few of them here and there and then continued on. I’d fill up one page then turn to another.

  It was after midnight by the time I was done. So much truth and emotion stared back at me. So many years of disappointment spilled out on ten handwritten pages. Some of it made me angry, some if it sad, but the words that hurt the most, the ones that cut the deepest, were the first two I had written. The two that, out of everything on those pages, were the hardest to write. I looked at them over and over again before I finally said them out loud and realized what I had just done.

  Dear Dad.

  The more I read out loud the more it sunk in. I never knew that not having him around had affected me so much. My mom had given me everything I ever could’ve wanted, and right now here in Nashville I had the same. But what I needed, what I was missing, was something I was never given. I was never given the opportunity to cover my eyes in disgust when my dad came home at night and kissed my mother hello. I was never read goodnight stories about princesses by the man who should’ve been my knight in shining armor. I didn’t have anyone to watch hold my mother’s hand or make her smile or continuously remind me that no man would ever be good enough for the little girl staring back at him. How was I to know what kind of love I deserved, what kind of man would be worthy of what I had to offer if I never had anything to judge it against?

  When I was done reading the final sentence I squeezed the journal tight between the palms of my hands. My words were safe inside there. I wasn’t ready to share them, nor did I know if I would ever be, but at least they were there. At least now, after so many years of keeping it inside, I had taken a small step in the right direction of letting those feelings out. I smiled looking out my bedroom window at the couples and families passing by on the sidewalk. That little girl that Logan had mentioned before, it would take some time before she found her way back again, but I think among the happy families outside, I caught a glimpse of her through that windowpane.

  45

  If there was any sort of silver lining in the midst of all the chaos I had caused here in Nashville, it was that Thanksgiving break was finally here. I was in desperate need of an escape from my life and Frankie always closed the office on the Friday that followed. I had taken the Wednesday before off as originally my mother had planned to come to town for the holiday and I wanted the extra time with her, but after everything that had happened I needed to get out. I needed a place to hide, and there was no better place to go to figure it all out than back to Hamden. Going home always calmed me down. I could think more clearly and see things for what they were.

  It was amazing how different the sunset looked as I crossed over the county line. I was only a few miles from Hamden when I saw the hue of orange and pink light up the sky over the vast green fields. Three hours in a car left plenty of time for me to reenact the events that drove me out of Nashville. The look on Logan’s face when he first found Jesse and I on the porch was vivid in my mind. My eyes started to well up when I heard the “why her” play over and over again in my end. Then I heard Jesse’s response. “I love her.”

  My eyes couldn’t hold in the tears anymore when I replayed both Logan and Jesse walking away. My heart hurt for both of them more than it did for me. Sure, the girl they both loved broke their hearts that night, but on top of that, they lost each other. I had made a mess of everything.

  Our downtown was nothing like that of Nashville. We had a single main strip of old colonial buildings connected on each end by two stoplights. I could see one of them up ahead as I passed the welcome sign and made the final turn toward home.

  Mama was sitting on the front step of our quaint little bungalow when I pulled up alongside it. My eyes were bloodshot when I stepped out of the car and mascara stained my cheeks. I had held myself together long enough to make it up the cobblestone walkway, but the moment she reached out for me, I lost it in her arms and began to sob.

  “Oh Cee-Cee, what in heaven’s name is going on?”

  I struggled to catch my breath, but in between moments of weakness, I managed to tell her the story. A story that ended with me losing both of the people I needed most and no idea how to fix it. Logan had never looked more hurt or disappointed in me, not even all those years ago standing right where I now sat. It was almost as if he’d given up on me. And Jesse, he wanted time, but how much? What if Logan never came around?

  “I made such a mess, Mama,” I said.

  She traced my face with her fingers as she looked at me. I could see she was holding back the pain she felt from seeing me like this. There she went again, trying to be strong for me the way she always had. Before any tears fell, she pulled me inside and poured me a cup of the hot apple cider she had ready on the stove. I squeezed it tightly in my hands and settled into one of the chairs in the living room waiting for her.

  “You should’ve seen his face,” I said about the night Logan found out about me and Jesse. “I never meant to hurt him like that.”

  “Oh baby, Logan knows that. He just loves you so much.”

  “And is it so wrong of me that I don’t feel the same?”

  She placed her cup on the coffee table and bent down beside me. “Everybody wants a fairy tale. You and Logan, you grew up together. You spent all of your time together and I think that I may have pushed you a little too hard in the wrong direction. I just want you to be happy, and I felt like I saw that happiness when you were around Logan, but Cee-Cee, if you found happiness in someone else, there is nothing wrong with that. You should not feel guilty for following your heart. Do you love Jesse?”

  I looked away to place the cup of cider on the table beside me. “I’m afraid. I’m so afraid.” My face fell into my hands. Thinking about the look on Jesse’s face when I couldn’t say it back to him instantly overwhelmed me again. I could feel the tears streaming down my face. I wanted to be able to hear his voice again. I wanted to roll over, open my eyes and find him lying next to me. I wanted to feel his lips on mine, his hands on my skin, and damn it, as crazy as I thought it sounded then, it was true. I wanted to be his Sunday morning.

  “What are you afraid of, Cee-Cee?”

  I didn’t want to say it. I hated bringing up his name because she deserved better than that. I didn’t want her to think that she in any way was to blame for this, but she knew the answer. She stood up from the couch and bent down in front of me, taking my hands in hers.

  “I want you to know something,” she said. “No one can promise forever. And I certainly cannot promise that you will never hurt again, but what I can promise you is that you will regret the moments you didn’t let love in a hell of a lot more than the moments you did.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “Can you honestly tell me that you don’t regret loving him?”

  “Not for one second. I wish you could’ve seen him that first year.” She sighed. I watched as she smiled, wondering what she was thinking of. “The way he would hold you when you cried and sing you to sleep when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore to rock you. And the pictures, he never stoppe
d taking pictures. He loved us the best way he knew how, and that is all you can ever ask for. So don’t be afraid. Let go of the pain and let him love you, because you deserve it.”

  “I…I don’t know how.”

  “Every day I look at you, I thank God for your father. Because without him, I wouldn’t have you, and you make my whole world worth living in. You have to find your own reason and do whatever it is you have to do to heal.”

  By that point the two of us both had mascara running down our faces. I leaned my head on her shoulder and held her as tightly as I could. I had let the pain and hurt of not feeling wanted control my whole life. It took Jesse walking in to it to make me see that. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew that whatever it was I had to do it, because it was my only hope that he would ever come back.

  46

  It wasn’t quite half passed eight on Thanksgiving morning when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I rolled over to see my mom peeking over at me. She stood below the butterfly decals that still lined the pink walls I had helped paint more than a decade ago. I grabbed the covers tight against me and lay restless in my canopy bed as she walked over and she sat upon it.

  “Are you feeling better today?” she asked.

  “A little bit.”

  “Good. Breakfast is downstairs. Come eat.”

  With that, she left me to roll out of bed and scrounge through my oversized suitcase for a sweatshirt and pair of jeans. I walked down the hallway to the only bathroom on the upper level where I quickly went through my morning routine before I pulled my hair back and headed downstairs.

  I could smell the aroma of Thanksgiving as I entered the kitchen. Mama had already begun seasoning the turkey and prepping all of its fixings. It eluded me on how I did not inherit the cooking gene she so obviously had.

  “There’s scones and pastries on the dining room table,” she said.

  “Homemade?” I asked.

  “Would they be anything else?”

  “If you were in my house they would,” I laughed.

  She bunched up the dish towel that rested on her shoulder and tossed it at me. We both continued to laugh as I stepped into the dining room to scan over the selection. I wasn’t incredibly hungry. My stomach had been in knots for the past few days, but I took a few bites out of a cheese danish and a strawberry scone and stepped back into the kitchen.”

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  Mama looked around at the pans that flooded the countertops. The turkey was in the oven. The sweet potatoes were cubed for the casserole and the cranberries were on the stove.

  “You know,” she said,” I think I’ve got everything under control here.” She looked out the kitchen window. The sun was bright and not a cloud filled the sky. “It’s such a beautiful day out. You should take a walk around town, get some fresh air and clear your head.”

  “Mama, I’ve been clearing my head for days.”

  “Cee-Cee,” she said. Her voice was stern. “I think it will do you some good.”

  I sighed heavily. “Alright, if you say so.”

  It was only a few blocks to main street from the house I grew up in. A light breeze filled the air as I walked down the sidewalk. Nothing in Hamden was ever open on Thanksgiving. The streets were usually quiet, especially this time of the morning. The town of Lakeville’s big Thanksgiving Day Parade would be starting soon and that is where you would find all of Hamden. So that left only me and a rows of partially bare that lined the block we called downtown.

  Tomorrow night those trees would light up all of the small-town sky. That was the day Logan and I looked forward to all year when we were kids. I looked across the street at Doc’s Barber Shop. The windows were drawn, but on the glass door hung a large red bow. It was the same as I had remembered it. Logan and I would stand in front of that red bow every Friday after Thanksgiving. Town volunteers would spend all day stringing lights on the trees that lined the sidewalks and the overhangs of every shop in town. By the time we got there, decorations were hung and the two of us waited impatiently for the moment the lights would turn on.

  The Mayor would come over the loudspeaker and the countdown would begin. The crowd would roar: “3…2…1”. The lights would illuminate, the carolers would start singing and Santa would make his way down the main street on a horse drawn carriage throwing candy canes as he went by.

  Logan and I had a competition every year on who could catch the most candy canes. We’d hold up our buckets and try and get them to land in there. If they hit the ground, it didn’t count. I never won. But, after a bit of gloating, Logan would never leave until I went home with the same amount as he did.

  A shiver ran through me as I smiled at the memory. The wind had picked up a bit and my sweatshirt was no longer enough for the late autumn air. I strolled past a couple more shops on the way back home. There was Eddie’s Music House where Logan first learned to play guitar. And I could never forget Sweet Liza’s. Mama bought a cake from there for my birthday every year. When I was five, it was princess shaped. I think that’s when my quest to marry Princess William began.

  There was so much good in this town. Walking only that small part of it reminded me of that. I almost wished Logan could be here next to me. Maybe it too would bring back those memories. Maybe it would help him to understand how strong of a bond we had. Maybe it would help him forgive me. But, I knew he wasn’t here. Since back when we were in high school, Logan’s uncle rented a cabin in Ashville for Thanksgiving and his family would go up there for a yearly reunion.

  The clouds had taken away the sun by the time I walked up the final step to my front door. My mom smiled at me. I could tell by the look in her eyes she knew she was right. That walk did do me some good. Now that I was home again, I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to be sad or mourn my loss. I just wanted to be right there. I wanted to spend time with my mom. I wanted to love my town and my home and the place that built me into the person I was today. And even if only for the moment, that’s exactly what I was going to do.

  47

  My weekend in Hamden went quicker than I had hoped it would. Mama did everything she could to keep my mind off of Jesse and Logan. We watched movies, played board games and even put a few puzzles together like the old days. It wasn’t until I was finished packing up my suitcase on Sunday morning that I remembered what it was I’d be going back to. I threw the suitcase in my trunk and Mama put a paper bag full of scones on the passenger seat and made me promise I’d eat some on the drive back. I knew it would make her feel better, so I promised.

  “Remember what I told you.” she said as she hugged me. “Find your reason and hold it tight.”

  “I will.” I squeezed her tight one last time before I let her go. “I love you Mama.”

  “I love you too, Cee-Cee.”

  We both teared up a bit as I closed the driver’s side door and started the car. I waved goodbye as I pulled out of the driveway. I wanted to get an early start before the traffic picked up, but when I got to the edge of town, I couldn’t help but turn around. I drove through the first traffic light and then the second. I turned down Logan’s street and drove by the white, two-story colonial. I knew no one was home, but I slowed as I passed it anyway. I saw his window in the corner on the right. So many times I’d stood outside of it in the dark waiting for him to appear. It wasn’t Logan’s house I turned around for though. His street just happened to be en route to my destination. I sped back up again and drove down the now decorated streets that would lead me to the place that held my favorite memories.

  I zipped my jacket up as high as it would go so the chill of the wind couldn’t get to my skin while I walked down the dock. The morning fog still hovered above the water as I came to the end. I sat cross-legged where my feet would normally dangle, closed my eyes and listened to the breeze blow through my hair.

  I sat there on that dock for almost an hour and didn’t shed a single tear. I went year by year of my life in that town. It scrolled through
my mind and I couldn’t help but smile. There was so much that I had to be thankful for. Logan was right. I had so many people who loved me and I never appreciated it because I yearned for the only one I thought didn’t. From the moment I drove back into this town I was greeted with it. From the green pastures and the beauty of the skyline, to my Mama, her homemade cooking, and all of the stores that let me reminisce. I truly had a life to be grateful for. I only wish it hadn’t taken me losing two people so precious to me in order for me to figure that out.

  I skipped a few rocks into the water before it was time to finally make my way out of Hamden. I ate one of the strawberry scones from the paper bag and thought long and hard about how I was going to put my life back together again. With or without Jesse and Logan, I still had pieces of my life to pick up and there was no better time to do it than upon my return from a rejuvenating retreat to Hamden.

  48

  After I returned to Nashville, I found myself wishing in times of solitude that I could stop time and curl up in my bed and cry the day away, but then I would remember what Mama had said and I would snap myself out of it. I immersed myself in work to keep me distracted and it seemed to make the days go faster.

  By the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, I was back into the swing of things at work. I was standing outside a coffee shop downtown with my café mocha the first time I saw Jesse since I left his house. Jaycie was still inside waiting on her order. He was walking in my direction, headphones in his ears, his dark hair covered by a grey beanie. He waved at me when I caught his eye and came over.