Ending a Broken Journey

by Melissa L. Delga

  “Or…since I’m already here, we can share a cup of coffee together?” I wink at her.

  She considers this for a minute. “Fine. How would you like it?”

  “Black.”

  She looks at me questioningly. “Then why did you need sugar from me?”

  Shit, yeah. If not for nothing, Kennie is quick. I forget that was just a lame ass excuse to come in. “Oh yeah,” I cough out a cover up. “Jax likes it with cream and sugar,” My shoulders lift with nonchalance.

  “Wouldn’t he be expecting you back with some?”

  Damn. She’s really trying to get rid of me. I wonder why. “Hey Kennie, do you remember the old swing set you used to go to?” I decide to catch her completely off guard…Which it seems I have.

  “Umm yeah…why do you ask?” she asks slowly. “Come on, we can have a seat in the living room.” She points over the kitchen bar to where she has a huge flat screen hanging against the wall, and sectional couch. Nice. It’s definitely set up for some quality game play.

  “Nah, I was just thinking about whether or not it was still around, or if it got torn down with so many things being built nowadays.” I follow her to sit down on the sofa. She sits on the end Indian style to face me.

  “Yeah, it’s still around. It’s one of the few things that haven’t been torn down…yet.” She sips her coffee and looks into her cup.

  “Do you remember the first time I gave you a ring pop to cheer you up?” I sit down right in front of her with one leg propped up so I’m facing her, drinking my coffee.

  I see the barest hint of a smile cross her lips. She’s so fucking beautiful. “Yeah I remember. Megan was only using me to get closer to Kip,” She chuckles.

  “And remember what Kip did to her?”

  That gets her to outright laugh, which truthfully by her normal demeanor, surprises me. “Yeah I do. Telling her he was into her knowing she would go around blabbing away.” She pauses, “Then you guys coming to pick me up from school with your girlfriends; Kip making out with his girlfriend right in front of her. She was completely humiliated.”

  I laugh too; god, we were such immature teenagers. “Yeah well, he says no one messes with his little sister. It got her to stop talking shit about you didn’t it?”

  She nods and her smile fades a little. In that moment, I decide I’m going to do whatever it takes to hear her laugh again, and to keep a smile on her face.

  WOW. THAT’S ALL I can think… wow. Was it a brief sense of comfort I was feeling? After all, my nerves feeling rigidly on end being in the company of Drew, I honestly don’t even remember the last time comfort in anyone’s presence but my own happened.

  I lock the door behind Drew who just left after asking for sugar. Well, today it was sugar. All week it's been something. Yesterday was milk, the day before was eggs, the day before that bread. He claims he doesn’t have any of these normal household groceries in his home because he has yet to go shopping, but I think otherwise. Coming by was such an unexpected and shocking surprise the first day. Now, I think it’s just his special way of checking in on me—so my imagination wants to believe. I don’t know why he feels the need, but it’s become somewhat of a routine for me; just like my morning jogs with Jax. Neighbors or not, I didn’t foresee either of the Dean boys being able to plant themselves so fluidly into my life; or quite rapidly for that matter. Living in my protective bubble for so long leaves all of this sitting a little uneasily with me, but buried underneath it all, I feel hope.

  Having normal interactions with people is so foreign to me. However, this is one of the first times I’ve actually wanted to try. I can’t place my gradual shift in thoughts or feelings, but perhaps it could be because both Jax and Drew treat me as if nothing’s wrong; as if I’m not broken. Everyone else, it seems, tiptoes on broken glass when conversing with me. It’s a pleasant change, no matter how difficult I make it for those in my life, to be treated…well, normally.

  With this new found feeling inside of me, I throw on some shoes and set off to finally develop the prints my clients at Makeup-Life-Design Magazine have been waiting for. This is my biggest account presently, and I need to maintain the good rapport. I finalized the editing and Photoshop last week so now I just have to drop them off. How many people can say they truly love their job? It’s one of the few things I find enjoyable in my life. I’m driving to the print shop, and all of my thoughts unsurprisingly continue to revolve around Drew. He’s been occupying quite a bit of headspace lately. The history between us and the years lost. I can’t help but think had he always been around, things would be different. I’m not sure to what capacity, but anything would be better than my normally insecure state.

  Why I chose to tell no one what happened between Wes and I, well, was because I could handle it. Or, so I thought. I can’t even tell if my brave face is sham-free any longer regardless. I know Cass, Ade, Kip and my parents have been chipping away at my façade for the better part of a year. Drew then appears with Jax in tow, and all of the sudden I’m feeling lighter, freer, and open to opportunity, sprinkled with some conversation? The last time I depended on a guy, it shattered me. In so many ways, I’m still trying to pick up the pieces. My happiness will be on my terms. Not because some ridiculously handsome guy pays attention to me. No. Not ever again.

  I WALK OUT of the print shop with a receipt in one hand to come back and pick up my photos. A few days wait isn’t so terrible. I hear the jingle of the bell as I exit. Catching a glimpse of a couple laughing, walking down the sidewalk, he clutches his chest as his shoulders shake from the laughter; she covers her mouth freeing her hand to wipe tears from her eyes. A couple of strangers just enjoying each other’s company, but for some reason that laugh is so very familiar to me.

  “Mackenzie. Did you split the new guys between us for high and low side?” I heard Ambrose ask me as we made our way to guest services. With a summer break in college, I decided to keep myself busy, so I’d applied to, and received the Supervisor’s position at a movie theater. It was a fun job; free movies, and fun people. Only drawback I’d noticed were the late weekend nights to be worked. Weekend nights were for young people like me to live it up...Who’d I been kidding? I’d barely had time for a life, much less party, with my study load.

  I nodded my head at Ambrose, the other supervisor for this Friday night. I told him one guy was helping him with theaters eleven through twenty while the other would be helping me with theaters one through ten. “Oh and I have them both currently at the end of the hallway on each side taking tickets until it picks up.”

  “Okay cool, thanks Mackenzie.”

  “Sure thing, you know I always do everything anyway,” I told him, laughing. His head moved slightly back and forth at me as he walked away. He’d had an usher on his heels asking where he could find a copy of the schedule for theaters letting out. Since I hadn’t formally introduced myself to the new guy on Ambrose’s side, I sauntered over to see a rather attractive male with short brown hair and dark brown eyes looking utterly bored.

  “Hi, my name’s Mackenzie. I’m one of the supervisors who’ll be working with you tonight,” I told him as I’d stuck my hand out to shake his.

  “Hi, name’s Wes.”

  Okay so he hadn’t been overly friendly, but whatever. Instead of making the situation more awkward, I simply asked, “You’re okay here, then? Everything’s good?”

  “Uhh, yeah. It doesn’t take a genius to tear a ticket.”

  He’d looked me dead in the eye waiting for me to challenge him. This’d been a battle of wills and I couldn’t see myself remaining classy, as my parents had taught me to be, if pushed further. Instead, I gave him a slight nod and walked off—fuming.

  IT WAS ALMOST the end of the night and we were down to Ambrose, me, Wes, and a few other ushers to clean up the rest of the theaters. I saw everyone had started at the top with Wes a few rows lower. Still in disbelief at his obnoxiously rude first encounter with me, I kept a watchful eye on him. Suddenly, it was
like the heaven’s parted and gave me the perfect window of opportunity to be just as rude as he’d been. Hey, I said I was classy—I didn’t say I wasn’t immature.

  “Hey genius, you know we put up all of the arm rests when we clean theaters, right?” Yes. I went there, in front of everyone, and it felt good. I should’ve been ashamed of myself, but I wasn’t.

  He looked down at me, clutching his chest in laughter, while he threw his head back. Standing straight with a grin on his face, he’d winked at me and said, “Rookie mistake.”

  I have no clue how I ended up here. More importantly, I can’t believe it’s empty. Aren’t playgrounds in the early afternoon generally full of rambunctious children? Looking around from my driver’s seat, it all seems the same, yet different. Colors have faded over the years, and rust has made its appearance known in the wake of many rainy days and tropical storms. It’s cloudy today, as it is most days here, but that wouldn’t normally stop children from coming. I place my car in park. Grabbing my journal from my back seat, I get out and walk through the grass. That’s when I notice the sign says: Closed for renovation. Well at least it makes sense now. I haven’t been back here in what appears to be an eternity. After the memories that just came flooding back, I think writing is exactly what I need to help me make sense of things. Ignoring the sign, my legs continue to push me forward. I feel the softness of the sand underneath me, as my feet sink with each step. Once at the swing set, I sit down and recall what my own personal place of solace was when everything seemed to be going wrong. I can't explain why this is my place; it simply just is. My journal in one hand, pen in the other, I close my eyes briefly and inhale a breath. As I exhale, I find my focus and write…

  I never knew the day I met you would come to be,

  in equal parts, the best and worst day of my life.

  Memories of you,

  Memories of what we shared.

  Memories of a happier time,

  Memories of a future together.

  I never knew I could love how I loved with you.

  I was never aware a heart could be as full,

  As it was with you.

  That it could beat as strong,

  As it did with you.

  The day you came into my life.

  Our first encounter.

  My first impression.

  I knew you would be a challenge,

  Someone who could keep me on my toes.

  To feel special.

  To feel alive.

  To feel worth something.

  I never knew the day I met you would come to be,

  in equal parts, the best and worst day of my life.

  Memories of the pain.

  Memories of the hurt.

  Memories of the anger.

  I never knew I could hurt, how I hurt with you.

  I was never aware a heart could actually break,

  Like it did with you.

  Our last encounter,

  The lasting impression.

  The last of my world shattered.

  Memories.

  The memories of you,

  That I would like to both remember

  And forget.

  The memories I hold dear.

  The ones keeping me away,

  From those I love.

  Afraid one day, the hurt I feel?

  Will be ever transparent, and the ones I love?

  Will hurt more at knowing and believing,

  The love they have for me?

  Wasn’t good enough, even though,

  It’s all that’s kept me alive.

  I’m jolted away from my thoughts at the sound of my phone ringing, I hadn’t noticed I’d been here writing, thinking, and enjoying the silence for nearly two hours. I look down at my phone,

  “Hey Cass, what’s up?”

  “Hey Mackenzie. What’re you up to right now?”

  “Nothing much.” I didn’t feel like saying ‘oh you know, writing on a swing I would frequent in my childhood when I was upset.’ That admission would cause a whole new set of questions.

  “We all planned to go to O’Dwyer’s tonight. Please say you’ll come?”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Oh! Silly me. I meant you, me, Ade, Kip, your neighbor Drew and his brother, Jax? I think that’s his name,” she pauses. “Come on Mackenzie, it’ll be good to get out.”

  She senses my hesitation with, one, it being a group, and two, it being in a very public and loud setting. I wouldn’t diagnose myself with anxiety per se, however, crowds put me on a whole new level of self-consciousness.

  For as many times as I’ve cancelled on Cass and Ade in the past, something has me saying the words I’m sure I will come to regret later. With a heavy sigh, I nod my head in agreement quickly realizing she can’t see me. “Sure Cass, I’ll go. What time?”

  I can hear her practically bursting at the seams with joy. “Be ready by eight o’clock, we’ll meet you at your place since half of you live there anyway,” she laughs at me.

  “Ha-ha, very funny. I’ll see you at eight.”

  Before I can hang up the phone, she halts me with her words, “Hey Mackenzie, I love you. See you tonight!” Then she hangs up.

  I press the “end” button on my phone and notice the tear that drops on my journal.

  It definitely is the unconditional love they have for me that’s kept me alive.

  “VICKI CALLED WHILE you were out.”

  I look over to Jax who’s flipping through the channels on our enormous, wall mounted, television. He’s laid out on our couch with one hand behind his head.

  “Seriously? What’d she want?” I roll my eyes just thinking of this girl. We were over months before I moved back down here. “Better yet, how did she get my number?”

  “Good question bro, I don’t know. But my guess would be mom.”

  It figures; my mother is just too nice for her own good. I’m sure Vicki gave her some sob story about needing to get in touch with me, and lo and behold, it worked.

  “Yeah, probably. What’d she want?”

  “Dude, I don’t know.” He turns his head to look at me. “You need to get that shit figured out, though. I’ve got one word: needy.”

  “Trust me, I know. So she didn’t leave a message? I don’t have to call her back? I can forget we had this conversation?”

  Truthfully, she wasn’t always bad while we were together. I’m just as guilty for our end I suppose, but her jealousy issues were fucking ridiculous. Slowly, all of the shit she was doing came out. Too much happened between us and mistakes were already made. I hope to never repeat them again. Especially with the one I want to call my true forever.

  “Ha! You wish. She left her work, cell and home number. Did I mention she was needy?”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumble and plop myself on our black leather recliner.

  “Where were you anyway? Isn’t it early for you?”

  “It’s noon, dick.” I reach over to our other couch and chuck a pillow at his head. It hits him smack in the face causing him to laugh.

  “Yeah I know, but you don’t do mornings.”

  “Whatever asshole, I was downstairs at the gym.”

  My phone rings; I get up and walk over to the bar top dining room table. I look at the number, don’t recognize it and press answer—before my brain processes it could be Vicki.

  “Hello? Andrew? Are you there?”

  Dammit. This is precisely why people screen their fucking phone calls.

  “Hello? Who’s this?” I know full well who it is, but I can’t help myself.

  “Andrew, it’s Vicki,” she says flatly.

  “Vicki? What’s up? How did you get my number?”

  “Really? No ‘hi how are you?’ or ‘long time not talk Vick’? Just, how’d you get my number?”

  “Yes, really what do you want?” I’m not normally such an asshole with my exes, but, they’re exes for a reason.

  She sighs, an audibly loud
sigh. “Can’t I just call to say hi? I wanted to see how you were doing down there. Did the move go okay?”

  Okay, innocent enough. Now I feel like a jerk.

  “Sure you can. The move went fine and the transition has been smooth, thanks for asking. How are you?”

  “Good I’m glad to hear it. I’m doing well. Have you made any friends? Met anyone?” I hear the slight nervousness in her voice. Made any friends? What am I, in grade school or some shit? But bingo, the real reason she called, slipping in the last question nonchalantly.

  So to play with her a little, I decide to be half truthful. “I have actually.”

  “Have actually what?”

  “I’ve met someone.”

  “Oh you have, have you? So soon?” The jealousy in her tone is uncanny. “What’s she like?”

  “Did you need something, Vick?” Jax, who had his attention on some biker show, now puts the TV on pause and looks at me in amusement. He’s such a douche bag. “If not, I really have to run.”

  “Well I just wanted to say I miss you and think about you all the time—.”

  “Vicki?” I hear in the background, “Who are you talking to?”

  “Just a friend honey, don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re un-fucking-believable.” I hang up without waiting to hear a response. My phone rings again seconds later, I pick up without looking at the caller ID. “Vick, seriously, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Hold on there, killer, who’s Vick?” Kip asks in mock horror.

  “Ha-ha very funny, go ahead and laugh it up.”

  “No, but for real, who is she?”

  “She’s no one man, what’s up?”

  “Well before I was so rudely mistaken for a chick, I was calling to see if you wanted to go out with all of us tonight?”

  “Who’s all of us?”

  “My sister’s friend Cass asked her if she wanted to go to O’Dwyer’s tonight, so right now: Cass, Ade, Mackenzie, and me; unless you and Jax come too.”