Mind the Gap (In Too Deep)

by Casey McMillin

  Collin came across the room and put a hand on my shoulder. "You sure you're okay?" He was looking down at me concerned and I knew I wasn't getting out of there without telling him what was going on.

  "It's no big deal," I assured him. "He's going to be fine. The only reason you caught me in here like this is because the fight was over his ex-wife."

  Collin gave me a regretful half-smile which made the tears well up even more. I was angry—angry with Josh for caring enough about her to get in a fight, and angry with myself for caring enough about Josh to cry in front of Collin.

  "Collin, I'm not really in the mood to go back out there and do that pickle thing," I said. "I was planning on heading home soon anyway. It would mean a lot to me if you could help me get out of here without having to explain what happened to everyone."

  "No problem," he said, rubbing my shoulder. "You can head straight out the front door. Just tell me where your things are, and I'll grab them for you and meet you outside. Unless you want Rachel to meet you… I could send her if you want—"

  "No," I said, not wanting to explain the situation to another living soul. "If you don't mind, just get my stuff and meet me outside. My bag is next to the couch in the playroom." He started to walk away but I stopped him. "Oh, and Collin?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Just tell everyone I'm fine, but wasn't feeling my best. Tell them I said thanks for having me."

  "You got it," he said sweetly.

  I snuck out the front door and Collin did as he said he would, meeting me out there with my bag. I felt so sad and desperate and wanted nothing more than to fall off the grid for a few days.

  I drove from Ventura back to my place in Los Angeles, and when I got there, didn't remember the trip at all. I locked my front door, and spent the entire evening in my bed with a box of tissues and all the junk food I could find.

  Gretchen had given me a key to their cabin in the woods, and I thought about going out there so I could really be alone, but in spite of me being pitiful and heartbroken, I was still too scared to go into the woods by myself.

  I spent Christmas night alone in my little house, thinking about Josh and every possible outcome. I imagined him coming over to my house, explaining everything, begging for forgiveness, and making the whole situation go away, but I knew that wouldn't happen. It wasn't because I didn't trust Josh to try to make amends. (I kind of figured he would at least make some attempt to explain what happened.) It was more about me and the fact that I didn't think I'd be able to be in a relationship where the ex-wife was an issue. I had to remind myself that it was a good thing I figured this out now before we got too serious.

  That didn't lessen the sting.

  Somehow, before any of this happened, I had myself all worked up into believing that Josh and I could actually have something special, and the realization that things weren't going to work out was extremely painful. The disappointment created physical pain in my chest, and I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt why people called it heartache.

  I listened to the song No Air about fifty times. I knew it by heart by the end of the night. In some of the books I read, the heroine describes herself as feeling "shattered," and that was exactly the perfect word to describe how I felt that Christmas—shattered into teeny, tiny pieces that would never to go back together again. Humpty freaking Dumpty. I fell asleep in the early morning hours with those types of delirious thoughts.

  I woke up sometime later that day to the sound of my phone ringing. I had a splitting headache from the hours of crying, and had to squint to read the words on the screen of my phone. It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and apparently it wasn't the first missed call. I had five of them and four texts. I didn't really feel like reading all the texts and listening to the voicemails that hot little second. I didn't feel like doing much of anything at all. I was tired, achy, and pissed off.

  I set the phone down beside me without bothering to check any of the messages. I took in my surroundings. My bedroom was a freaking disaster, with clothes, shoes, and blankets strewn about. It looked how I felt.

  A shiny object on the carpeted floor caught my eye as I was glancing around my pigsty of a bedroom. A flash of memory hit me from the previous evening, and I remembered holding that box-cutter, poised for destruction. No, I wasn't going to slit my wrist, silly. I loved Josh, but geez.

  Just hours ago, I was planning on taking that painting I'd done for Josh and slashing it to shreds. The painting was still at my house. I'd held on to it for so long making last minute tweaks that I was just planning on giving it to him when we exchanged Christmas gifts, which, by the way, was supposed to have happened the night before. Instead I spent my Christmas with a box of tissues and a box cutter, ready to destroy the painting I used to love so much. Okay, it was a little dramatic. But Lord God, it hurt. I took a deep breath and picked up my phone to face the darkness on the other end of those messages. I blinked to restore focus to my stinging eyes as I read the words on the screen.

  The missed calls were listed as:

  A mystery number x 2,

  Rachel x 1,

  Gretchen x 1,

  And Mom x 1.

  The texts were from Rachel and my mom.

  I skimmed over the texts, reading them, but really just passing an eye over the words to make sure nothing seemed urgent. They were just concerned and wanted to make sure I was doing okay.

  I didn't really concentrate on any of them. I was more interested in the two voicemails I thought might be from Josh. I made myself listen to the three non-Josh voicemails before I got to those. Don't ask me why I did that. Sometimes I just liked to torture myself. Again, the messages from the girls were just checking to make sure I was okay.

  Finally, I pressed play on the first message from a mystery number. I knew it had to be Josh, at least I desperately hoped it would be him. I was shaking with nerves as I listened.

  "Britney, this is Josh." The sound of his deep voice made me ache all over again. "I'm calling from my mom's phone. It's Christmas, and I know we were supposed to be spending some time together this afternoon, but I got hurt last night, and the doctor gave me some muscle relaxer. Anyway, I'm coming off of it as quick as I can so I can drive back into the city. I just wanted to let you know that I might be a little late."

  A little late?

  I laughed without humor as I collapsed back onto the bed. It was the day after Christmas at one o'clock in the afternoon, and I was still alone in my house. Yeah, you could say he was a little late. The last missed call was from the same mystery number, only it was the one that came through just a few minutes ago—the one that had woken me up.

  I pressed play.

  "Britney, it's me Josh. This is my mom's phone. Why aren't you picking up? I know you're at home. Your car is in the driveway, and Gretchen said she saw some activity in your house last night when they got back. Please call me back, Brit. I lost my phone, but I have my moms until I can get a new one. Call me on this phone. I need to explain why I wasn't able to come back yesterd—"

  The voicemail was cut off in the middle of the word, and fresh tears sprang to my eyes at the retched little thing called hope that threatened to stir up inside me. I was still catching my breath when a text came through from that same number.

  Mystery #: "Britney, if you're in there, please let me in. I'm sorry I was late. I can explain. Gretchen said I could use her key to get in there and check on you if you don't call one of us back soon. We're worried. Please call."

  I looked out my window, but didn't see anyone. I called Gretchen. I figured she'd be easier to talk to, and she could give Josh the message for me. Okay, so maybe that made me a coward, but who cared? I was all about the easy way out after a night's worth of crying. I dialed Gretchen's number.

  Gretchen: "Hey girl, you okay? I was starting to worry a little bit."

  I could hear a little commotion in the background, and suddenly I heard Gretchen squeal and some shuffling followed by the sound of Josh's booming voice.<
br />
  "Brit, what the hell? We've been calling. I almost kicked your door down. Go open it and let me—"

  I hung up.

  The eighth grader was back.

  I couldn't help myself. There was no way I could see Josh in the puffy-eyed condition I was in, and I was planning on ignoring him and our sad situation as long as possible. I sent Gretchen a text before Josh could do something stupid like walk over here again.

  Me: "Tell Josh I'm sorry, but I need to be alone right now. I'm not feeling good, and I can't see anybody. I'm fine and I'll let you guys know if I need anything. Please just give me a little space."

  Less than a minute later, I heard Gretchen and Josh arguing by my front door.

  Chapter 24

  Josh

  "Fuck space," I yelled. "I don't care what the little text said. She's on the other side of this door, and I'm gonna talk to her."

  "I'm sorry, Josh, but I'm not allowing you to kick my door down," Gretchen argued, "That's a little overboard."

  "Then give me the key, Gretchen." I said. I stuck my hand out, but Gretchen could be extremely stubborn when she wanted.

  She shook her head defiantly. "She just needs a little space, Josh. She asked me to make sure nobody bothered her."

  I was just about to get impatient. I took a deep, calming breath. "I am her boyfriend, Gretchen, she wasn't including me when she said she didn't want to be bothered."

  "She was specifically talking about you, Josh! And if she wanted you in there, she'd be opening the door. She knows you're out here."

  I sighed and raked a frustrated hand through my hair. "I'm going to talk to her whether you give me the key or not."

  "Like hell you are!" Gretchen yelled.

  Joel was crossing the pool area to make sure everything was okay. I took a small step back so he didn't think I was trying to threaten Gretchen. The last thing I needed was another fight. I directed my words toward Joel.

  "My girl is on the other side of that door, and all I'm asking is that she let me in so I can talk to her."

  "Brit's the one who doesn't want him in there, not me," Gretchen said.

  "Brit's just mad because I missed our Christmas plans. I just need to explain what happened."

  "Don't you think she knows what happened?" Gretchen asked, in disbelief. "She knows exactly what happened, and that's why she's upset, genius."

  "What are you talking about? Does she know I got hurt?"

  "Of course she knows you got hurt, and she knows who hurt you too." Gretchen rolled her eyes at me. "Just an FYI Josh, it's a little bit of a pisser when your so-called boyfriend goes all cave man on his ex-wife's new man."

  I was silent as I considered what she was saying. "How do you know that's what's wrong with her?" I asked.

  "Because, duh, Josh," Gretchen said, throwing her arms into the air. "Think about it."

  I realized she might be right.

  "I couldn't care less about Kayla or her new man," I said. I was just about yelling it in hopes that Brit would hear me through the door. "He picked a fight with me and then he stabbed me in the fucking shoulder with a piece of glass. I didn't want to fight him. I didn't want to see her. For Christ's sake, he stabbed me when I wasn't even looking."

  We were all silent for a minute, sort of waiting to see if Brit would open the door after hearing this news. She never did.

  "Just let her cool down a little bit, Josh," Joel said. "Come back later."

  "I don't have a choice," I said, looking at my wristwatch. "I have to go pick something up, but I'll be back in a couple of hours." Then I raised my voice when I added, "and when I get back, I'm going in there."

  ****

  It took me a little longer than I expected. It was more like four hours instead of two, and by the time I got back to Brit's place it was almost five in the evening. Brit should have been with me to do this errand. I put a lot of thought into the whole thing, and I was a little pissed that the shoulder stabber had screwed with my plans. If things would have gone like I expected, we would have spent the night together on Christmas, then I would have taken her with me to pick up her Christmas gift. As it stood, I was stuck picking the damn thing up by myself, and I didn't even know if she'd want it once I got back to her house.

  I couldn't stand the thought of Brit being hurt by me running into Kayla. If anything, seeing my ex just confirmed how glad I was she'd left me. I wasn't about to let a misunderstanding destroy a good thing. I left the present in my truck, and went to knock on Brit's door, praying she'd open it without a fight. I rang the bell then stepped back and waited for her to answer.

  Nothing.

  I put my fist to the door a few times, giving it a good knock that I knew she'd be able to hear.

  Nothing.

  A moment later, mom's phone started beeping, and I fished it from my pocket to read the incoming text.

  Brit: "You said two hours. I thought you'd be back by now."

  I smiled when I read it, knowing that if that were her only complaint, she'd be getting over it once she saw her present.

  Josh: "Open the door so you can ask me to my face."

  Brit: "You can't see my face right now, I've had a rough day."

  Josh: "Open the door so you can tell me about it. I need to see you."

  Brit: "I'm gonna open the door, because we need to talk, but let me warn you, I don't think everything's gonna be okay."

  My heart sank when I read that last text, and I wondered what the hell I'd done to make her so upset.

  A few seconds later, her front door opened just a crack. She didn't stay at the door to greet me, but I pushed it open and followed her inside. The shades were drawn, and the guesthouse looked dark and dismal. She was all curled up on the couch with her arms around her knees. As I approached, she smiled at me, but I could tell she'd been crying.

  "Baby," I said, sorrowfully. "What in the world has you this upset?"

  "Don't Josh," she warned, narrowing her eyes at me. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."

  "Don't make what any harder?" I asked in disbelief. "You're talking like we're breaking up or something." I sat beside her and she flinched at my touch, which made me feel even worse than I already did.

  "How could we be broken up if we never were together?" she asked.

  I just looked at her, dumbfounded. "I thought we were together, Britney."

  "Don't call me that, and don't say we were together, because if we were, your mom would have known who the hell I was when I called to check on you. Instead she just explained to the random girl how you'd been in a fight over your ex-wife."

  I groaned inwardly, knowing I had no excuse for the mom thing.

  "I didn't get in a fight over Kayla. I didn't even fight that guy. He stabbed me and I knocked him out, end of story. As far as my mom goes, I don't know what to tell you. Do your parents know about me?"

  "Yes they do Josh. They met you remember?"

  "Do they know we're together?"

  "As a matter of fact, they do. But now I'm gonna have to call them and tell them different, because you're an asshole who can't own up to being my boyfriend." The corner of her mouth twitched, showing the hint of a smile, and I knew I still had a chance.

  I put my arms around her, and she stiffened at first, but then I could feel her relax. I broke the hug and leaned back on the couch so I could pull my mom's phone out of my pocket. I pushed the appropriate buttons to call my parent's landline and put the phone to my ear.

  "What are you doing?" Brit whispered, a little panicked. She tried to grab the phone away from me, but I turned so she couldn't easily reach it.

  "Hey dad, is mom there?" I stared into space as I waited for my mom to pick up. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Brit was watching me. "Hey mom, do you remember a girl calling the house to check on me? Yeah, mom, I'm okay. I'm talking about a girl. Yeah, mom, my shoulder's fine. Everything's fine. I'm just calling to let you know that the girl who called to check on me, her name's B
ritney Nelson. She's my girlfriend, and the only reason I didn't tell you about her was because I didn't want you to worry about me. But I have a girlfriend. Her name's Britney, Brit… everybody calls her Brit. She's an artist and a singer and she's the best thing that's ever happened to me. (A pause) Yes, I'm okay mom. I just felt bad that my girlfriend called and you didn't know who she was, that's all. Yes, I like her mom, why else would I be calling? I will, I promise. I'll bring her soon, it may not be this week or anything, but we'll come down. I will, I promise, but I gotta go mom. Love you. Yeah, okay, love you too."

  I slid the phone onto the coffee table and looked at Brit who was now looking a little sheepish.

  "I feel terrible that you felt like you needed to do that, Josh. Now I feel like your mom thinks I made you—"

  "Stop," I said. "I should have told her about you before that. My parents are just really overprotective and I knew there would be a thousand questions."

  "I'm sorry it had to go down like that," she said, shrugging. "Now I feel like a big baby. I'm embarrassed to meet her now."

  I hugged her. "Okay, listen to me Brit, I wanted to call her just now. I wanted her to know you're my girlfriend. I'm proud of you, and I want you to meet my parents. You should have just come home with me for Christmas. If you would have, none of this would've happened in the first place. You wouldn't have been all puffy eyed, and more importantly, you wouldn't have missed out on coming with me to pick up your Christmas gift just now."

  "What gift?" she asked.

  "The one that's waiting in the truck."

  She gave me a skeptical glance and pushed at my shoulder. "Are you messing with me?"

  "Oh, watch out, baby," I said, touching my shoulder instinctively at the pain.

  She gasped. "I'm so sorry Josh. Oh, God, I didn't even ask you about your shoulder. I feel like such a bad person. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"