A Love Letter to Whiskey

by Kandi Steiner

  My eyes welled as I thought of that time in my life. I remembered feeling so torn, wanting to stay at Alder and knowing that I couldn’t. Jamie loved me enough back then to let me bring him down with me, and I’d never understand how he could still love me after.

  “But now, you’re telling me it’s still not there — it’s still not the right time. You couldn’t be with me when you were broken, and now that you’re standing on your own, you still can’t be with me. So if I can’t have you at your worst, and I can’t have you at your best, then when do I get you, B? When does the timing line up for you to stop fighting what we have between us and just let me in?”

  A sob cracked in my throat and I cleared it, sniffling as I took another drink. I didn’t know what to say. In a way, he was right — it wasn’t fair. But it also wasn’t as easy as just pointing a finger to a time and place in my life and saying, “There! That’s the time I’ll be ready.” His nonchalance over it all rubbed me wrong, and I took another long pull of whiskey, realizing Jamie hadn’t really ever seemed like he believed I’d make it and end up staying in Pittsburgh. He thought it was temporary, like me being in the city was inconveniencing him and his plans.

  I loved Jamie, I always had, but we couldn’t do long distance. I couldn’t be the woman he needed me to be from thousands of miles away, when I had a job of my own and goals to fight for. I knew what he wanted, what he’d always wanted — a wife, a house full of kids. Maybe one day I’d want those things, too. But that day wasn’t today.

  And that’s when I remembered what he asked me for that night we found each other again.

  “What happened to one day?” I asked in a whisper.

  It took a moment for him to answer. “Well, I need one day right now.”

  “And I can’t give it to you, so where does that leave us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I finished what was left in my glass and poured up another, the Whipper Snapper smoother than before just like I knew it’d be. It was sinking into my system while another, older Whiskey bled itself out.

  I know you’re probably furious with me in this moment. Hell, I’m furious with myself looking back on that night. But at that particular moment in my life, I thought I knew what was best. I thought I knew what would work and what wouldn’t, what mattered and what didn’t. I thought protecting myself from a potentially broken heart would be easier than trying to fight for love with distance in the mix. I’d walked away from Jamie before and it’d nearly killed me, but this time, I was stubborn — and I felt like it was him giving me the ultimatum. It was him ready to walk away from me, and I was just proud enough to let him if it meant standing my ground.

  “Listen, I have a really big event coming up and tomorrow is going to be a long day…”

  It was a sorry excuse, and Jamie knew it. The bigger part of me expected him to fight me on it, to demand I talk to him and figure this out, and I guess it should have been my sign that he was giving up on me. He was done waiting, done fighting someone who wasn’t even blocking the punches anymore.

  “Yeah, okay.” He exhaled, and I felt that breath through the phone. I could almost smell him there with me, the oaky honey, similar to the whiskey I was drinking that night. “I just…” I waited for him to finish that sentence, but he never did, and it haunted me for nights to come after. “Goodnight, B.”

  “Night.”

  After we hung up, I sat there with my phone in my hands for a solid ten minutes, my eyes on the glass in my hand as I replayed our conversation. And that’s when I realized it.

  Jamie never congratulated me on my promotion.

  I drank half the bottle before I finally turned in that night, and not even the expensive whiskey could silence my racing thoughts. I was stuck in the strangest place I’d ever been. I felt both solid in my decision and terrified I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life, proud of my accomplishments yet ashamed of my stubbornness. But the truth was that summer, that year in my life — it was about me. I felt like I had all the time in the world, room for mistakes, room to grow. How could I have known how wrong I was?

  I didn’t call Jamie the next day, and he didn’t call me. And so it went, for days, weeks, and months. It took too long for me to realize I’d dropped that beautiful bottle of whiskey. Too long to realize I’d broken it. By the time I figured it out, too long turned to too late, and I remembered all-too-well the other way Whiskey can burn.

  I WAS ON FIRE.

  I nailed the event at the end of my internship, which just seemed to propel me straight into my new full-time position. As much as I enjoyed my internship working under River, I was finally exactly where I wanted to be — finding new talent, building a client list, making connections in the publishing world. I was on my way to Literary Agent, and after that — I knew I’d be unstoppable.

  There was something both freeing and absolutely suffocating about working hard and being rewarded. On the one hand, I was proud of myself. I’d figured out what I wanted in life, what I was good at, and I was making the right moves to set up a solid foundation for my career. Nothing made me happier than staying late at the office or coming in on a weekend if I saw the payout on the other end. Everyone at Rye Publishing knew who I was. To some, I was an inspiration. To others, a threat. And I loved being both.

  But, on the other hand, work was literally everything in my life — which meant even if I tried to deny it, I was lonely. It wasn’t that I was sad in that loneliness, but I felt it — like a ghost or a shadow in the corner of my apartment. It was always there, lurking, and when it got to be too much I found myself back in the office to avoid it. And so the cycle went.

  Because work was my life, I ended up spending most of my time with River — which was dangerous in more ways than one. It was clear to me that he was curious, and not about my work ethic. But even though I’d let Jamie go, my heart still held onto him tight, and I did my best to make that clear to River. He hadn’t made a move per se, but I saw the twitch of his fingers — he was ready, waiting, and I wondered when he’d strike.

  I wondered what I’d do.

  It was after eight o’clock one Friday night in November when the loneliness finally got to me. I was pouring over a new manuscript I’d curated from an up-and-coming fantasy author who was Indie up until that point but was now seeking representation. The book was amazing, I was completely immersed, at least until River tapped hard on the top of my cube.

  “You know, that book will still be readable on Monday. Or even tomorrow — when you can read it on your couch and not hunched over in that shitty chair.” I smiled, tossing the manuscript down on my desk and kicking back in my chair. I scrubbed two hands over my face before running them back over my curls. “You should call it a night.”

  “You’re not my boss anymore, Riv. Haven’t been for months.” I winked, knowing he hated when I pointed that out. He always wanted me to work less, and that always made me work more. “You’re just scared I’m going to make it to VP before you.”

  He laughed. “Honestly? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” Without warning, he stepped into my cube and jabbed his finger into the power button of my Mac, powering it down.

  “Hey!”

  “Seriously, come on. It’s Friday night. Let’s go get a drink.” He held out his hand and I looked up at him, feeling the sparkle in his eye a little too close to a sensitive space still partly occupied.

  I sighed. “You know, I am really tired actually. Maybe I should just go get some sleep.”

  He swallowed, and though I knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted, he grabbed my hand and hoisted me up. “That works too. Just get the hell out of here.”

  “So bossy,” I teased. His eyes lit up again, and this time I definitely felt the space spark around us. I cleared my throat, tossing the manuscript in my oversized purse and throwing it over my shoulder. “Walk me out?”

  River didn’t just walk me downstairs, but all the way to the entrance of my apartment
building before he gave me a stiff hug goodbye and went to meet up with some of our coworkers at a little bar in Market Square. I rode the elevator up to my floor and moved through the motions that had become my new routine — drop shit at the door, kick shoes off, pour a glass of wine, hold the bottle in the other hand until I made it to my bedroom, where I changed into leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, then it was ass on the couch — my favorite place to be.

  I sighed with relief as I tucked my legs beneath me and took a long sip of the red wine. It was dry, slightly sweet, and perfect. As I tossed my hair into a loose bun on top of my head, I laughed out loud. How pathetic. I’d been invited out to drinks with friends and I’d turned it down to sit by myself. I didn’t even have a pet to cuddle with.

  Flipping through the contacts on my phone, I dropped my finger on Mom’s name and a picture of us at my graduation filled the screen. It’d been a while since we’d talked other than text, so I sat back, ready for a long conversation of catching up.

  “Hi sweetie!” She yelled over the background noise.

  “Mom?”

  “Huh?”

  “You there?”

  A loud burst of laughter rang out and I heard Mom yell something before the noise disappeared. “Sorry, honey. Wayne and I are out at a new bar that opened downtown. What’s up?”

  Even my mom is cooler than I am.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just calling to catch up.”

  “Aw, I miss you, honey! How’s work?”

  It was always the first question she asked me, and really it was the only thing she knew to ask about — work.

  I sighed. “It’s great. Kicking ass and taking names like always.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I’ll let you get back to Wayne. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Is everything okay?”

  Mom knew. She always knew. But tonight wasn’t the night to unload on her. “Everything’s okay, Mom. Give me a call tomorrow okay?”

  “Okay honey. Talk then!” She ended the call quickly, and I chuckled, thinking how different she was from the mom who’d brought me up in high school. That woman never left the house except for work, and she rarely smiled. Wayne had sparked life back into my mom, and I loved him for it.

  I poured up another glass of wine, realizing I’d finished my first one probably a little too quickly. Then, I dialed Jenna.

  “Sup, betch.”

  “Please tell me I’m not interrupting your super fun Friday night out.”

  She scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “Good. My mom is already drunk and living it up and I’m wallowing in self-pity on the couch and looking for someone to whine to.”

  “Well,” Jenna said on a breath, like she was adjusting her position. “Lucky for you, I just finished eating my weight in egg rolls and Ben & Jerry’s and I’m only forty minutes into Cruel Intentions. The night is young.”

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  “I know,” she said around a mouthful of something — my bet was on the ice cream. “So, my pity party hat is strapped on. What are we celebrating?”

  I clicked on my television for background noise, landing on MTV. “Oh you know, the usual. I miss the guy I basically told to fuck off and I have nothing to show for my current life outside of an extensive client list at work.”

  “Why is that a bad thing? You work your ass off and everyone sees it. I wish I had your work ethic. You’re going to be making six figures by the time you’re thirty.”

  “Yeah…” I traced the rim of my glass with my fingertip. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I’m proud of what I’ve done.”

  “But everything sucks without Jamie.”

  I sighed. “Nailed it.”

  “Okay, before we go any further,” Jenna said, and I heard her suck another spoonful of ice cream. “What do you need from me tonight? Do you want me to pet your hair and talk you off the ledge or do you want some tough bestie love that feels like an ass slap and a punch straight to the nose all at once?”

  I took another, longer sip of wine, repeating her question in my mind. She’d been petting my hair and telling me what was easiest to hear for months, but for whatever reason, on that cold Friday night in November with the holidays just around the corner, I felt particularly homesick and lonely. I was ready to cry into my bottle of wine, to shed the emotions I felt bubbling up too high in my throat. And maybe, just maybe, I was ready to face the truth I’d been avoiding.

  “Kick me in the teeth.”

  Jenna clapped her hands together on the other end of the line. “Okay, just remember you asked for this.” She paused, shuffling around, and I imagined her sitting up straight like she usually did before we had our come-to-Jesus best friend talks.

  I untucked my legs, stretching out on the couch and pulling the throw blanket off the back to cover myself. “Mouthguard in place. Let’s hear it.”

  “First off, you are your own worst enemy. You always have been. But this whole thing with Jamie showed me a whole new side of your warped sense of yourself and how you affect others.”

  “Okay, you have my attention. Explain.”

  “Well, you left Alder and never went back because you were so convinced that you were like poison or something. You thought he would drop out of school and lose everything he’d ever worked for because he wanted to love you while you were fucked up. But the reality is, if you would have gone back, Jamie probably would have brought you back to life sooner than you did on your own.”

  I frowned. “I don’t think so. I was a mess back then. He had his own worries going on with his dad’s firm and I didn’t want to bring another source of stress into his life.”

  “Right. You didn’t want to, but Jamie was happy to be the person you leaned on. He wanted to be. You just wouldn’t let him. And then, you run into him out of some miracle at the literal exact moment in your life where you finally felt okay again. And yes, you moved. Yes, long distance sucks, but you know what? It’s possible. I mean, do you honestly see yourself staying in Pittsburgh forever?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” I said defensively. “The point is there’s no way for us to know if the long distance thing will be permanent or temporary.”

  “Yes there is.”

  “How?”

  “You make the decision to have it be temporary, B. It’s as easy as that. You look at what’s important in your life, and if Jamie is a top priority, then you adjust everything else accordingly.”

  “He is important, but so is my career,” I said, huffing. “I don’t want to give up what I’ve finally figured out on my own for a boy.”

  “Oh please,” she scoffed. “It’s not like that and you know it. It’s not like Jamie is asking you to stay at home with the kids and drop all your dreams. He’s asking you to work with him, to be a team, to finally put him first now that the timing is right. I mean look, first he was dating me, then you were dating Ethan, then your dad passed, and then you moved away. Even still, after all that, you two somehow found your way back to each other. And now, the only thing keeping you from being together is you.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Because it is!” She laughed. “Babe, wake up. Jamie loves you. He put his heart on the line like no other guy I’ve ever seen in my life. Don’t walk away from that because you think you’re doing him some sort of favor. He knows you’re not going to marry him and move back home right away. He knows you’re not ready to have kids. It doesn’t matter. He wants you, B. And even though you’re trying to prove you don’t feel the same for some stupid reason, we both know you do. Stop acting like not wanting him makes you strong. There’s more courage in admitting you love someone and fighting for them than letting them go because it hurts less.”

  Suddenly, my wine tasted sour, and I sat the glass on my coffee table before laying back on the couch and covering my eyes with my forearm. Jenna’s words didn’t sink in slowly or jolt me like a shocking realization. No, the truth was
everything she said I’d already known. Maybe I’d always known. So hearing her say them out loud only ripped the curtain down, the one I’d hung high to separate me from the ugly truth. Now, I was staring at it, right in the eyes, and it was just as terrifying as it had been when I’d covered it.

  “I’m so fucking screwed,” I cried, my voice breaking.

  “You’re not. You can still do something about it. But first, you need to figure out what it is that’s always had you running from him.”

  I sniffed, letting my arm fall to the side and staring up at my ceiling. “I don’t know how to love someone, Jenna. I just don’t. I never saw it in my house, not with my parents. I never felt it with Ethan. I did with Jamie, and instantly — as soon as I realized I loved him — I was overwhelmed with panic and fear.”

  “Shit…” Jenna breathed. “It’s your dad. You’ve got daddy issues.”

  “Wow, Jenna.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I liked your dad, I was just as confused as you were when everything… when it all came out, you know? But it all makes sense now. You thought your mom loved your dad and then you found out what he did to her. And your dad was the first man you ever loved, and he hurt you — he practically killed you. You affiliate love with fear.”

  For a few moments I just breathed, thinking on what she’d said. It seemed too simple, too cliché, and yet at the same time it felt real.

  “What do I do?”

  Jenna paused, and I continued staring up at my ceiling, like the answer would fall down from the floor above.