by K. M. Galvin
“Your fear is holding you back and it’s driving a wedge in between us. I’m not strong enough to trust enough for us both. Every time you lie, by omission or otherwise, it validates all these stupid insecurities and fears that I have of myself.” I pause for a second because the tears have thickened in my throat.
“What are you saying?” Jason asks, the defeated anguish of his voice reverberating in every syllable. I hate myself so much in that moment, but I’m doing this for him.
I won’t be the thing that holds him back.
“I’m saying that we are breaking each other, ruining us, before we even had a real chance.” Repeating his words from so long ago.
“That’s fucking bullshit, baby.” He lets out a harsh laugh. “I’m sorry, but this? All this shit you’re saying? It’s crap. I love you. You love me. What the hell else is there?”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“I am. I’m just not believing what I’m hearing.”
“Cut the shit, Jason.” I take a deep breath, pushing the frustration down. Lashing out would not help. “You aren’t listening. Sometimes love isn’t enough.” I cringed at the cliché, but for the first time I actually understood and believed it.
“See that sentiment right there? I will never understand because to me, love is all there is. It is enough. Nothing else matters.” He protested stubbornly.
“If that’s true then why do we keep hurting each other? I’m running scared and you’re scared of me running.” I said, my voice cracking over the words.
We’re both silent for a long time.
“What do you want to do?” He says his voice rough with exhaustion.
“We’re not ready for each other yet. You need to focus on your career and I need to work on myself. I’ve changed so much since I’ve met you, but I need to know if it’s because you’ve changed me or because I’ve changed and you just happened to be there at the right time. I need to know that I’m strong enough to be on my own.”
“I can’t lose you.” He says brokenly and a sob rips from my throat. I know this is the right thing to do, I know we’ll come back to each other; it’s the in between that will devastate me.
“You won’t. You’re my forever, Jason. I love you.” I cry.
“God.” I hear his breath hitch. “So we’re done?”
“Yes. For Now.”
“Fuck. Marisol, fuck!” He groans and I hear a loud crash in the background.
“I’m so sorry.” I sob. “This is the best I can do for you right now. Focus on your music. Be the man I know you can be. Trust yourself and I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Don’t you dare do this for me.” He growls.
“I’m doing this for both of us.” I said firmly. He’s quiet again and I hold my breath.
“God, you piss me off. I love you despite yourself, you got me?”
“I know. It’s the same for me. This is the best thing for both of us, I promise you. I love you so much, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“I don’t agree with this. You better come to your senses, Crazy.”
“I love you, Bartender.” I sigh.
He hangs up before I can say anything else and without a goodbye. A cry rips from my throat and I drop my phone.
“Emily!” I cry and in two seconds I’m wrapped in her arms.
She shushes me and calms me down until I can think past the pain. A shudder rips through me and I suck up all the hurt and reach for resolve. I made promises to him that I intend to keep.
Time to get my shit together.
Leaning back, I wipe my eyes and look at Emily.
“Tell me what I need to do to get a sample piece ready for your boss.”
“Mari-” She begins hesitantly. I shake my head cutting her off. With a sad smile I get up off the ground and stand up straight.
“I’m done talking about things. It’s time for me to do. I’m not this weak little bitch. That man loves me. Its time I start trusting it and being the person I know I can be, the person deserving of that love. I’m done crying so tell me what I need to do.” She continues to look at me, her own eyes bright with unshed tears and then she squares her shoulders.
“Ok. Ok, I have notes for you. I want to work on the first chapter and have a sample article ready by next week. Call my boss tomorrow and set up a meeting to go over the particulars. Are you sure you want to do all this, Mari? I feel like I’m shoving you in a direction you don’t want to go.” She asks, biting her lip.
“I don’t know what direction I’m supposed to be going in, but this feels right. It’s doing something I love and for the first time I think I could really do this. Legitimately do this, so yes. I want to do it. I want to help others who feel lost. Who feel like they’re going nowhere.”
“All right then. Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The next few weeks were…interesting. I began working like a crazy woman on my writing. I was learning so much from Emily. She became my rock, my soundboard, and my sister. I don’t know what I would have done without her. So many nights I stared at my computer spending hours researching and talking with other writers. I second-guessed everything and had my weak moments, but I kept on my path. I explored all aspects of writing. Song lyrics, poems, nonsensical rants, even freaking haikus were a daily exercise. I wrote today about how annoying Emily could be sometimes. It was therapeutic.
I wanted to make up for all the things I didn’t know, but there was one thing I figured out about writing. You will never know what you’re doing or if it’s the right way to go about it. Writing is just like any growing pain. It hurts, but after you’re done there’s a new part of you. At least this is what I’ve been telling myself. Sounds pretty smart and put together doesn’t it?
I’d like to think so.
Emily and I spent the entire weekend slaving over an article sample I could bring with me when I meet with her editor. I was really nervous. It’s one thing to share what I’ve written with people who know me, but it was something else entirely to share it with a stranger. Drumming my fingers on my keyboard, I stared out the window of Emily’s kitchen.
This was something I had to get over. Every writer in the world shares themselves with the public. It’s why we write, hoping to touch other people or share a message. Did I really have the balls to do this?
Ever since “The Conversation” with Jase I’ve been doing some soul searching. As corny as that sounds, I’ve been making strides. It’s hard to hold a mirror up to yourself and stare at the ugly, to ask yourself the really hard questions and be honest with the answers.
There’s a lot that I don’t like about myself, but I’m learning I need to take the bad with the good and accept who I am. After all, if I were such a horrible troll would anyone actually love me and want to be around me? I had to have some redeeming qualities.
I pulled myself away from my thoughts and stilled my fingers on the keyboard. I read through what I wrote today and my fingers itched to fix everything, to over analyze. Honestly, I wanted to delete the whole damn thing. Were people really going to read this?
“Mari!” Emily called from somewhere in the house. I called out to Emily letting her know I was in the kitchen. “Hey! What did we agree to?” She barked at me when she came into the kitchen. I pushed my computer away from me guiltily.
“I’m not aloud to edit while I write.” I said shamefaced. I gave her big, puppy dog eyes but she just crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down.
“And why do I tell you this?”
“Because it slows me down and I spend more time picking apart what’s wrong with it then actually writing it and I’m not an editor so I need to leave it to the professionals.” I quoted dutifully.
“Right.” She nods like a proud teacher and sits down next to me, shifting the computer in front of her. “What are you writing about today?”
Rubbing my hands back and forth on my thighs, I told her, “I’ve been writing
about the past two weeks. Or starting to anyways.” I clear my throat and stare everywhere but Emily’s face. I can’t fucking stand when she reads what I write in front of me. Shifting in my seat, I jog my knee.
“Are you serious with this haiku, brat?” Emily asks. I choke on a laugh. I forgot that I wrote that in there.
“Uh-“ I begin, but my throat closes on another laugh. She’s giving me the stink eye.
“I am not annoying.”
“No-“
“I am trying to help.”
“I know-“
“You should be thankful, you know.”
“Emily-“
“Ungrateful.”
“Emily!” I yell and glare at her. “Stop interrupting me.” I wait for another interruption, but continue when she says nothing. “You know how grateful I am to you and how much I value your opinion. And besides you are annoying as shit, but I love you. I’m just blowing off steam.”
“He misses you too.” Emily said. And my brain takes a second to realize whom she’s referring to.
“You give me conversation whiplash. I can’t keep up with you.” I sigh and rub my forehead.
“I’m just saying. You said you miss him, I’m just letting you know he misses you too.” She says, indicating the Word document.
“I know he does. But the rest of the tour has been going great. He’s interacting with the crowds and Declan said he’s going out with the guys more.”
“Ah, keeping tabs, have you?” She asks, lifting a brow.
Rolling my eyes, “Look, just because I’m not with him right now, doesn’t mean I’m not interested in what he’s doing. I just want to make sure he’s ok since he’s not answering any of my texts.”
“You’ve been texting him?” She laughs incredulously.
“We were best friends, Em, I just thought that we could go back to that-“
“You’re an idiot.” She says bluntly.
“You know, it’s a wonder that I have any self-esteem anymore.” I argue, miffed.
It was Emily’s turn to roll her eyes, “Come on, Mari! Did you honestly think that after breaking his heart he would respond to your ‘Hey, what’s up?’ texts? Seriously?”
“Yes, Emily, I did. We were friends first; I thought that we could still be.” I defend.
“Like I said. Idiot.”
Shoving away from the table, I grab my bag and storm out of the house, ignoring her when she calls out to me. Hopping in my car, I turn on my iPod and blare my music. This time it’s angry, matching my mood. How dare she call me an idiot?
Fuming I fly towards home. What is so fucking wrong with wanting to be friends with him? I slam my hand on the steering wheel. My phone rings from its position in my passenger seat and I see that it’s Emily. I hit ignore and toss it in my backseat.
Fuck this shit. I have three days before I meet with Mr. Frank Melina, Emily’s boss. I’m getting the fuck out of here for a couple days. I pull into my parent’s driveway and hop out, slamming my door, but keeping the car running. I wrench open the front door and slam it behind me, startling my mom who was cooking.
“Marisol, what the hell?!” She yells at me, but I ignore her and stomp up to my room.
I am not an idiot. It’s not like I think we would stay broken up forever. It’s a goddamn break from the heavy shit that plagued our relationship for Christ sake.
What is so wrong with wanting to get my shit together and not wanting Jason to ruin his career because his attention was elsewhere? I was eliminating myself from the equation to give us a chance.
Fuck!
Hands shaking, I grab my overnight bag out of the closet and throw clothes into it, not giving a shit if it’s clean, dirty or even matched. Am I really the only person who gets why I did this?
Slinging the bag over my shoulder I trot downstairs and head into the kitchen. My mom is muttering to herself about me. I lean over and kiss her cheek.
“Sorry about slamming the door. I’m heading to Kayla’s for a day or two, I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Marisol Claire, what happened? You look furious.” She asks, turning to me.
“That’s because I am, Mom. I’m not going to get into it. If Emily calls tell her I’ll see her in a couple days.”
“You don’t have Mikey?”
“Nope, it’s Friday. Emily’s working from her house today and is home all weekend. I gotta run. Love you!” I call as I leave, this time closing the door quietly behind me.
I fling my bag into the back of the car and grab my phone to call Kayla. I roll my eyes when I see that I have another missed call from Emily and one from Declan. I can’t talk to her right now and don’t want to talk to Declan. I was just about to call Kayla when a call from Declan came through again. Sighing I hit “answer.”
“What?” I practically growl.
“Is that how you answer your phone? Nice, kiddo.” Declan drawls.
“Dec, what do you want?” I spit out and I hear him sigh heavily.
“Emily called and said she pissed you off.”
“She did.”
“Wanna tell me why?”
“Nope.”
I was done involving Declan into this. No more checking up on Jase, no more late night chats about it. It wasn’t fair to him.
“Come on, Mars.”
“No. I’m done talking to you about this shit. It’s not fair of me to do that to you. I’m putting you in the middle of things.”
“Marisol. You’re my friend too.”
“Look. I appreciate and I love you for it, honestly. You’ve become such a good friend, but I’m not going into this with you. I gotta go, ok?”
“Ok-” I hang up before he can finish. My blood was pumping through my veins. I am so tired of people checking up on me like I’m some head case. I can’t believe Emily called Declan. Quickly dialing Kayla, I wait impatiently while the phone rings. When she answers, I speak before she can say anything.
“Kayla I’m coming into town for a day or two. I need to get away and be distracted by your crazy wedding Bridezilla drama. Is that ok?”
“It sounds like you’re already on your way.” She said sounding amused.
“Sorry.” I said, not sounding sorry at all.
“You know you always can come here, and to be honest I could use the help. Johnny has been steering clear of my lately, making me do everything by myself.” She grumbles. I don’t tell her that he’s doing this because she ends up hating whatever he does and has to redo it herself. He’s just saving himself from getting bitched at. Lesson one as a Maid of Honor: agree with the bride. Always agree with the bride.
“Ok I’ll see you in about an hour.”
“Ok, bye!”
“Bye.” I fling my phone in the passenger seat again. Should I just shut it off? Ugh, no, what if there’s an emergency? My iPod begins to play Adam Lambert’s What Do You Want From Me and I turn the volume all the way up, belting out the lyrics with him.
Honestly, was I the bad guy here? I am a fucking mess and it’s spilling into everyone’s life. As much as I missed him I was doing the right thing.
I think.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The rest of the weekend I dodged calls from Declan, my parents and Emily. Being M.I.A. was immature, I knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. It was exhausting growing up. Visiting Kayla proved to be an awesome diversion. She was so wrapped up in everything that went along with planning a wedding; she didn’t bother to ask me any questions. But the weekend was over and it was time to get back to reality. Sitting in my car, I stared at Emily’s house.
Creeper move? Maybe.
Shaking my head I mentally slapped myself and got out of the car. Jingling the keys to settle my nerves I walked up to the house, hoping that the tail between my legs wasn’t too visible. My hand lifted to knock but the door was flung open before it could hit the wood.
“I’m sorry!” Emily cried and then grabbed me into a bone-crushing hug.
�
��You didn’t do anything wrong. I just overreacted.” I admitted.
“I shouldn’t have judged you. It’s not my place.” She said, pulling back and walked over to the couch, taking a seat.
Plopping down next to her I said, “Never stopped you before.” She raised an eyebrow and I giggled. “No really though. I was being an idiot.”
“I just don’t understand what you expected to happen, Mari. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Leaning my head on the back of the sofa I gathered my thoughts. “It’s not that I thought we could go back to the way we were before we started dating, I just-“ I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face, “I just wanted to take a break and let him do what he needs to do without the drama. I was taking myself out of the equation before things got worse.”
“You ran.” Emily said bluntly and I couldn’t argue. She was right.
“Yeah, ok I ran, but this time it was the right thing to do. He needs to do this. He put his life on hold for everyone. He did the right thing, but he has a second chance and I don’t want to stand in his way. I’m dragging him down with my insecure bullshit and I’m doing it again with this texting.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is so fucking annoying. I hate these girls and it grates on my nerves like no other that I’m becoming this idiot who can’t trust the man in her life because of his past.”
“Marisol, I hate to interrupt, but what in the fuck are you trying to say?” She said and I burst out laughing.
“I love him. He knows this and he knows why I pumped the breaks on our relationship, but I can’t help but think that maybe he’s tired of all my bullshit and will move on.”
“Panty dropper.”
“Panty dropper.” I agreed, nodding.
“Has he told you about that time in his life?” Emily inquired, tilting her head.
“He just told me that he wasn’t proud of it and that it was something he did to mask the pain.” Which was why I was worried. I knew I was hurting him. Emily lets out a sigh and holds up a finger, indicating she needed a minute. She got up and went down the hall, checking to make sure Little Man was still asleep. She was back in a second and plopped back down facing me.