by Brianna Cash
I’ve been seeing Sam for a month now, which means it’s been almost three months since I saw Genny last. The for-sale sign in front of her house is still there. I still only see her car and Callie’s van in the driveway. I still lie to myself and pretend I don’t care.
Sam is boring. I take her out every weekend. I kiss her good night. She’s invited me in, invited me to stay without words, because she’s too afraid to ask for what she wants. I’ve done some heavy petting, taken off some of her clothes, but I’m not into it. She doesn’t turn me on. Not even a little.
She’s afraid to touch me. She won’t reach for my hand. She won’t wrap her arms around me when we’re kissing. She has no desire to go anywhere near my dick. She’s afraid to touch any part of me unless I move her hand somewhere.
The exact opposite of Genny.
It’s driving me crazy.
I always feel dirty when I leave Sam’s place. I’ve never stayed, even though she wants me to. I would rather go back to my apartment and risk dealing with Chad than stay with her, and it’s finally getting through my head that I need to end it. I have no desire to fuck her. I have no desire to kiss her. I have no desire to take her out, or even see her, ever again.
Work is going to be really awkward when I end whatever it is I’m doing with Sam.
It’s funny. A month with Sam feels like forever and I still hardly know her. A month with Genny felt like a blink of the eye and I felt like I’d known her for years.
I still fucking miss her.
I still fucking hate her.
I still fucking love her.
Walker
“That’s it! I’ve fucking had it with your psycho girlfriend!” The door slams loudly in our small apartment and I blink a few times to figure out that I fell asleep on the couch. Chad stomps through the room, kicking his door open before slamming things around in there, as well.
I have no idea what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know Sam and I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend. Isn’t it kind of a requirement to like your girlfriend? Or feel anything towards her at all? Besides, I told her last night I couldn’t see her anymore. I figured her having the weekend to deal with it would be better than seeing her at work the next day. She cried and told me it was ok. That she understood. I didn’t give her a reason, but she understands? She can’t even get upset about that? She can’t stand up for herself and demand a reason?
Honestly, I feel sorry for her. And disgusted with myself for letting it go as far as it did. I knew it was never going to work. I knew I would never like her. I knew I was nowhere near ready to date again. I’m a fucking bastard for seeing her even once.
Chad’s grumbling and cursing in his room. It sounds like he’s kicking something else now. I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m not dealing with it tonight. Getting up from the couch, I head to my room, being extra careful to not even look in his direction.
“Don’t close your fucking door, Walker! I’m done with this shit! Give me two fucking minutes.”
“Chad, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The fuck you don’t! I’m getting it, ok? Just give me two Goddamned minutes!”
I give him two minutes. Whatever has him so worked up has nothing to do with me, even if he thinks it does. Maybe he’s finally lost it. Maybe he’s suddenly delusional. I’ll have to google different STD symptoms and figure out if hallucinations or something of the sort is on any of the lists.
Chad comes out of his room, his face red and strained, his chest rising dramatically with every forced breath. He shoves some papers into my hands before backing away. “It’s done, ok? Tell your girlfriend to leave me the fuck alone and mind her own fucking business!”
“Who are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Genny,” he sneers, obviously hating her almost as much as I do most of the time. “Tell her it’s done, and I never want to see her again.”
Welcome to the club, asshole.
He slams the door in my face, leaving me standing there in a state of total confusion. What the hell could Genny do to Chad to have him this mad? Their relationship is entirely physical, no emotions at all, and this is more emotion from him than I’ve ever seen. Despite not wanting to know anything about the two of them, especially together, this weird turn of events has me curious. Stepping back into my room, I throw the papers on my bed before I think to look at them.
The packet is an old, stained, wrinkled, legal document.
My eyes roam the first few pages several times before I realize what it is.
It’s the documentation for Chad to give up his rights to Zeke.
And they’re signed.
Chad signed them, giving up his rights as Zeke’s father! Steve can adopt Zeke and Reese doesn’t have to worry about Chad fucking up her life ever again!
I don’t trust myself with this. I’m going to get it wet or dirty or lose an important page; somehow make it so it’s not legal anymore. It’s late. Almost three in the morning, but this can’t wait. Grabbing my phone, I call Reese. Better yet, I walk to the front door and grab my keys while holding the phone up to my ear. I’ll take them to her. Right now.
“Walker?” Reese mumbles, obviously still half asleep. “What’s going on?”
“Reese, I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“What’s going on?”
“Wake Steve up, too. I’ll be right there.”
“Walker, what’s-”
I hang up on her. I’ll be there soon enough. And she’ll be really glad I woke her.
Steve stands in the open doorway waiting for me, worry written in the lines marking his forehead. Reese is in the kitchen, pacing, worried sick about whatever I have to tell her that’s so important I had to wake her up in the middle of the night and drive over to tell her in person.
I don’t tell them anything. I hand Reese the paperwork and watch as it dawns on her what the gift is that she just received.
Reese’s hand shakes uncontrollably as it moves to her mouth. She shakes her head, her watery eyes raising to meet mine before settling in disbelief on the paperwork again. “Walker? Is this…? How did you…? Oh my God, Steve! Steve, we can be a real family! Steve!”
He moves to her side, wanting to believe, but needing to see it for himself. They hold the stapled papers between them, looking at every page, every single signature legible and where it should be, tears streaming down their faces at their long overdue good fortune. I watch them, happy, in love, finally getting what they deserve.
The sight of it gives me more joy than I ever could have imagined I would feel tonight.
I walk away quietly, letting them have their moment, wondering how Genny had anything to do with making this happen.
Wondering if maybe Genny did have an explanation for following Chad out of the bar that night.
Wondering if maybe I pushed away the best thing that ever happened to me because I was insanely jealous, and I didn’t trust her the way she trusted me.
Wondering exactly what I’m going to say to her when I track her down in the morning.
Genny
“You got this, April! Embrace the burn! Push harder! You totally got this!”
Kane’s words are just what I need to spur me on, and I gather what little energy I have left to spin the pedals of my bike around just a few more times. It’s the hills that get me. The biggest hill is the last one on our long ride and I might actually make it over the top this time. Risking a glance at what’s ahead, I realize I’m closer than I’ve ever been before. My chin lands against my chest as I focus on nothing other than slowly forcing these pedals in one last rotation.
He’s right. I got this. I’m fucking conquering this hill today.
When the bike starts rolling on it’s own down the hill, Kane lets out a loud, victorious whoop, and I lift my head to feel the wind on my sweaty face as I raise my hands in pride. Gravity can do the rest. I don’t know if I could push the pedals down again if my life
depended on it. I’m wiped out. Exhausted. In need of a huge glass of water and a bed. Maybe a shower when I wake up from a nap.
No maybe about that last one. I definitely need a shower. I’m disgusting. I’m just not sure my rubbery, overused legs will hold me up long enough to get my gross body clean before I crash for a while.
Slowing to a stop in front of my house, I walk my bike around the corner to discover a car in my driveway that really shouldn’t be here. After leaning my bike against the house, I turn around and walk back to the front, where Kane is slowly doing circles in the road, showing off his impressive skills to Callie, who’s hanging halfway out her window.
Kane calls Callie June, since that’s the month he met her, telling her that she’s his centerfold for that month. She didn’t know that he called me April until after her new nickname had stuck. Kane and Alex both call her June now.
Zander hasn’t jumped on that bandwagon because Heidi would kill him.
“April, what’s up?” Kane yells and I flinch at how easily his voice carries through the still morning air. Pulling off my helmet, I wonder what I’m supposed to do in this situation.
Scratch that.
I wonder what I want to do in this situation.
“There’s a bit of a problem in my driveway.”
His eyebrows fold together as he taps his biking shoes on the pavement. He has funny shoes that click into his pedals. He swears it helps him with his cycling skills; I tell him it makes him look feminine. It’s an ongoing argument I love to have with him.
“What kind of problem?” he asks as Walker steps around the corner of the house. Kane sighs, immediately understanding what kind of problem I’m asking him to help me with. “You got it, doll. Just slip around the back. I’ll text you my schedule for next weekend.”
“Thanks, Kane. You’re the best.”
Walking the wrong way around my house, I swallow the lump of emotions that’s already trying to crawl out of my heart and up my throat. I don’t have time for this. Wrong. I have tons of time. I don’t have the energy to deal with this. Emotionally or physically.
“Walker, what’re you doing here, man?” Kane asks, blocking Walker from following me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Going on a bike ride with my favorite girl. What’s it to you?”
“She’ll screw anyone I know, won’t she?” Walker’s voice growls. The things he thinks I’d do instantly pull tears from my eyes, and all the barriers I’ve put up to protect myself from my emotions concerning him come crashing down all at once.
“Fuck you, Walker. That’s totally uncalled for. If you weren’t such a dick-licker you’d have figured that out by now.”
I was really hoping to not hear anything Walker has to say, but they’re following me around the house, and I can hear every word. These new words hurt me just as much as the ones from that night in the bar. The night his eyes got hard and he treated me like I wasn’t his girlfriend, just a cheap whore.
I told myself I would not cry over Walker Kelley ever again. He’s not worth it. He doesn’t deserve my tears after the way he treated me.
But my body refuses to listen, and I try my damndest to hold in the desperate sobs trying to escape my lungs, at least until he’s gone. Until he can’t hear how he still affects me.
“Look, you’re right,” Walker sighs, his words already tinged with regret. “I’m a total asshole. I just want to talk to her.”
“Leave, Walker. She doesn’t want you here.”
I shut the back door firmly behind me and sink to the floor in front of it. Callie’s on the stairs, watching me, but I don’t have the energy or the desire to move. I don’t have the motivation to get myself under control this time. Walker does something to me. He always has. He brings out the best and the worst in me. He makes it so I can’t hold back my emotions. He makes it so I can’t ignore what I’m feeling.
“I just want to tell her one thing. Come on, Kane! I thought you were my friend!”
“You’ve ignored me for months. And Genny wanted to tell you one thing the night you broke her heart, but you wouldn’t hear it. Why the hell should she give you the time of day after the way you talked to her?”
“Fuck!” The entire house vibrates after Walker’s loud growl reaches me. I don’t know how he’s making it happen, what he’s doing on my back porch to make it shake hard enough for me to feel it while I’m inside, but it only makes my tears fall faster. Callie’s suddenly next to me, her arm around my shoulders, doing her best to comfort me as we listen to the conversation between the love of my life and the guy who helped convince me to try to live again after said love of my life treated me like shit.
Or whatever is worse than shit.
Walker must give up, because the house stops shaking and I can’t hear them anymore. They’re talking, but they’re not yelling, and my pathetic ears are straining to hear his voice again. The sound was like a sweet harmony to the beating of my heart. I just wish I couldn’t understand what those words meant, because the meaning of those words was definitely not a harmony of any kind.
It’s been three months. I was only with him six weeks. I’m nowhere close to getting over him, and I have a sinking feeling I never will. Walker and his hurtful words will haunt me for the rest of my life. I wonder if he knows how well I’m keeping my legs closed now. He must not, considering what he accused me of doing with Kane.
His words in May were angry, said in the spur of the moment, his feelings making him say things he shouldn’t. It doesn’t excuse the way he talked to me, but it’s something I could forgive. Knowing he moved on so fast, that he couldn’t wait to start seeing someone else, tells me he never loved me. Not like I loved him. He really wasn’t anywhere close to feeling what I was.
“Callie!” Walker yells. “Callie, can I talk to you? Please!”
Her arm tightens around me and I decide I’ve had enough. Pushing myself into a standing position, I try to say something, anything to my sister, who has been so very kind to me in the recent months.
The night she asked what happened with me and Walker, she gave me a beautiful painting. It was a portrait, capturing the best version of me. Callie doesn’t do portraits very often, but she’s good at them. She painted me happy. She painted me the way I was with Walker. She told me she would never be able to pay me back for all the things I’ve done for her over the years, for putting up with her and the way she sometimes treated me. For giving up every dream I ever had to raise my bratty kid sister. She told me she would always look up to me, that she knew she always had someone to believe in her and push her to reach her full potential. Someone to always be in her corner, even if we were fighting.
It was beautiful and thoughtful and sweet, but I was fighting my emotions about Walker so hard, her words barely registered in my angst-riddled brain until much later. I never even thanked her properly. The painting is sitting in my room, the canvas towards the wall. I can’t look at it because I know Walker was the reason I looked that happy.
He’s also the reason I’m still so unhappy now.
“You can talk to him if you want,” I tell her. “You guys were close. I’m just gonna go to my room for a while.”
“Genny… Maybe you should talk to him. Get some closure.”
“I can’t do it, Callie. I can’t. I just need to lie down for a while. Forget him… Forget everything.”
There’s pity in her eyes. She knows I’ll never get over him. It’s not possible. I listen closely as I head up the stairs, but I don’t hear the door open. I don’t hear her voice. I only hear Walker and Kane arguing on the back porch before a car door slams and Walker’s car is in the street, driving away from my house. Driving away from me.
I can finally breathe again. Even if every breath is silently choking me and it’s barely enough to keep me alive, not functioning anywhere near fully, I’m at least getting some oxygen now that he’s gone.
That’s one of my last thoughts before a
stress-induced migraine steals my vision.
It’s just as well.
There’s nothing I want to see right now anyway.
Genny
“Number thirty-four, booth three!”
Work is dragging today. It has this whole week, since Walker showed up at my house last weekend and destroyed any resolve I had to control my emotions. I was doing so good before he did that. People were beginning to think I was human again. I know I didn’t do a good job of pretending to be ok, but I tried.
Since Walker tried to see me, he’s been blowing up my phone. Sunday it was a couple texts. Monday, it was texts, missed calls, and a voicemail. Tuesday morning when I woke up to another text, I blocked his number.
Damn if that didn’t feel like a hard kick to my guts, cutting off all contact from him. It should have made me feel better. Instead, it made me cry all night with a new kind of despair I didn’t even know existed. Another migraine followed, just to make my night even better.
It’s Wednesday now, and we’re working our way through the after-work rush that comes through every day at this time. I get to leave in a half hour, and it can’t come fast enough, but what do I do then? Callie’s working tonight, so I have the house to myself. The house that I’m slowly packing up because Callie wants to move out, and that house is way too big for just me. I tell myself it’ll be good to move somewhere else and start over. Somewhere that I don’t have a memory of Walker in every single room.
A patient comes into my booth and I suppress a heavy sigh. Ready to work, hoping for a distraction from my life, even if just for a few minutes as I register this person, I do my best to plaster a friendly, incredibly fake smile on my face.
But I find myself looking into Reese’s eyes, and I immediately know that I will never get past this. It doesn’t matter where I live, what hobbies I take up, how busy I am. It doesn’t matter if I get a new job or move a thousand miles away. I will never get over Walker Kelley.