“I haven’t had a chance to clean up lately,” I said, as if that was a sufficient explanation for the squalor I’d been living in.
“Since when? Labor Day?” Seth asked.
“Alright well, do you want me to clean up or do you want me to get ready to go out?”
“Get ready, lady,” Seth commanded. “And that includes showering. If this is what your apartment looks like, then I shudder to think of how long it’s been since you’ve shaved your legs.”
Umm, he had a point. A shower was definitely necessary. So off to my bathroom I went, closing the door behind me.
By the time I stepped out in a cloud of steam, Alex had cleared a place for himself to sit on my bed and Seth was in my desk chair. Some raunchy rap music blasted through my laptop speakers and I was already feeling more optimistic about the night.
“Alright, now what are you going to wear?” Seth asked.
“What indeed,” I replied while I toweled off my hair.
He walked over to my closet and started to flip through my dress collection. “God, all of your clothes are so tiny. You’re like a homunculus.”
I rolled my eyes. “Saying your insults in Latin doesn’t make them more clever.”
“Dissentio,” Seth said. “How about this one?” he asked, pulling out a dress that I’d bought over a year ago, but hadn’t yet had the right occasion to wear. It was black and tight fitting with three-quarter length sleeves and a skirt that hit just above my knees. What kept it from being otherwise plain was the deep V cutout on the chest that stretched from my collarbone to my bellybutton and was covered with black mesh.
“Alright, but I’ll have to go bra-less,” I agreed.
An hour later, I was looking fierce, if I did say so myself. My makeup was dark and dramatic, with a wingtip on my eyeliner that I was pretty proud of. Courtesy of Alex the hair stylist, my mane was parted down the middle and slicked back into a low ponytail that hung down from the nape of my neck. Opaque black tights and suede black pumps set the dress off perfectly, with my red lips and handbag providing a little pop of color. I felt like the whole look was very high fashion. Or maybe that was just because I’d been wearing nothing but sweatpants for the past two weeks.
“Let’s have a drink before we go,” Alex suggested. “To keep us insulated from the wind.”
That sounded like a good idea, so off to my kitchen we went. I handed each of them a beer and poured a whiskey for myself. When we finished, Seth grabbed his and Alex’s empty bottles from the table and threw them in my recycling bin.
“Whoa,” he said as the bottles clinked against the other glass already in there. “Someone’s been hitting the bottle pretty hard.”
“It helps me sleep,” I said sheepishly. I knew that he was staring at an alarming number of empty Jameson bottles.
“Yeah, and cocaine helps people wake up. That doesn’t mean you’re not an addict,” he said. “But no matter. Tonight let’s embrace your alcoholic propensities by ringing in the last year of your twenties in epic fashion.”
“Here, here!” I exclaimed. “To high functioning alcoholism!”
“And to the people who put up with it!” Alex cried.
Twenty minutes later, we were in a crowded bar, I had a drink in my hand, and I was receiving hugs and birthday wishes from friends I hadn’t seen in weeks. For the first time in a long time, I felt really and truly happy. Who even needs an emotionally stunted guitar player in her life anyway? Not me. Laughing at Seth’s pathetic attempts to dance, I turned to set my drink on the bar so that I could cheer him on with both hands. As soon as I looked up, though, I witnessed a sight that made the air leave my lungs and the music fade into white noise in the background.
Luke Davies, looking sexy as hell and completely at ease, had just entered the bar and was making a beeline straight for me.
If There’s A Rocket Tie Me To It
Oh shit. I felt the blood rush to my head, making my cheeks warm and my pulse echo in my ears. Oh shit. In a spot on impression of someone having a brain aneurysm, I stared at him blankly as he approached.
“Hello stranger,” he smiled as he sidled up next to me at the bar.
I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “Hello yourself.”
“It’s been a while,” he noted.
“It has.”
Now that Luke was standing right next to me, I noticed that he didn’t look quite as put together as I’d thought when he’d first walked in. In fact, he was looking pretty damn rough. His hair and beard were more unkempt than I’d ever seen them and he had dark circles under his eyes. He also looked a little thin, like he hadn’t been sleeping or eating much. Well, that made two of us. I wondered if his general air of ill health was due to his recent album release or if it was our breakup that was bothering him, the same way it was bothering me. Either way, good. I was glad he was struggling. I was twenty-nine years old and not even remotely above schadenfreude yet.
“How’ve you been?” he asked.
Miserable. Lonely. Displaying alcoholic and agoraphobic tendencies. “Good,” I smiled. “I’ve been really good. How about you?”
“Good. The new album’s out, so I’ve been doing a lot of promotion. Locally right now, but I’ll start doing some more national stuff in a few weeks.”
“Great. That’s great. I’m happy for you,” I lied. I didn’t know why I felt obligated to repeat myself when I was being disingenuous. I couldn’t just say, “Great.” I had to say, “Great. That’s great. Fantastic. Wonderful,” like I had the world’s most positive case of Tourette’s.
An awkward silence descended, so I took a sip of my drink. “Um, Luke?” I ventured after a minute.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Always.”
“Okay. Uh, why are you here?” He laughed, but I went on. “I mean, did you know I’d be here or is this just a random coincidence?”
“Of all the gin joints in all the towns…” he started. Then he said sarcastically, “No Lyssa, I often patronize trendy bars like this one alone on a Saturday night like some kind of sexual predator. Of course I knew you’d be here,” he finished.
“But how?” I asked bewildered.
He raised his eyebrows and pulled out his phone. “You clearly have not been on Facebook today.”
“I…no, I turned off my notifications,” two weeks ago when I was trying to avoid hearing about you or seeing you ever again.
He pulled up my profile and right there, plastered up and down the page, were comments from all of my friends detailing our plans for tonight. Apparently each of them had also felt compelled to post a throwback picture of me from a spring break trip in college where, following one too many tequila shots, a midnight swim in the ocean had turned into a midnight skinny dip for everyone present. The photo that appeared most often was of me discarding my bikini top with one arm while my other arm covered my chest. Yep, that was me, always keeping it classy.
“Yeah, um, I used to not be so great at holding my liquor,” I said.
Luke stared at the picture. “Holding the booze in didn’t seem to be the problem. It was the keeping the clothes on part that gave you some trouble. But I’m not complaining,” he said as he snapped a screen shot.
“Alright, that’s enough,” I chided, although I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Damnit, the last thing I needed was to be reminded of how much fun he was to hang out with. “Can I introduce you to everyone?” I asked. I still didn’t know why he’d decided to come to my birthday party, but introducing him seemed like the polite thing to do.
“No,” he said too quickly. I looked up at him, startled by his response. “I mean, I do want to meet your friends, eventually, but I was wondering if, uh, maybe we could go somewhere and talk first? Just for a little while.”
“Oh, um, sure.” I said. I knew that I should have refused to go with him. In fact, I should have told him to march right back out of the bar the second he walked in. B
ut knowing that I should do something wasn’t the same as actually wanting to do it. And I hadn’t wanted to throw him out. Plus, now I was curious about what he had to say. He’d clearly felt it was important enough that he had to come all the way here to discuss it with me instead of just picking up the phone. I turned around to tell everyone that I’d be right back. Seth glanced at Luke and then eyed me meaningfully as I reached for my coat. I flashed him the “one minute” sign and left before he could lodge a formal complaint.
Once outside, Luke steered me down the street. Of course his SUV was parked right around the corner from the bar. How does this guy always manage to find the most convenient parking in the city? I couldn’t go anywhere without having to drive around for fifteen minutes and then park five blocks away.
He opened the passenger door and I hopped inside before he jogged around to the driver’s side. I was surprised when he pulled away from the curb, as I assumed we’d just talk in his car for a bit. I didn’t say anything, though, mostly because, as much as I hated to admit it, it felt good to just be here, in his car, next to him again. I’d tried not to let myself dwell on it after we broke up, but I really had missed this idiot. I guess my distract-and-numb method of getting over him wasn’t as effective as I’d thought.
Ten minutes later, we were pulling into the same parking spot at North Avenue Beach as the first night we’d spent together. Errant snowflakes were being kicked up by the wind and deposited on the windshield. If Luke thought that I was getting out of the car to go sit on the sand again, he was out of his mind. The wind chill tonight was almost ten below and I preferred not to lose any of my toes to frostbite. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be what was on the agenda.
“So,” he said once he’d put the car in park.
“So,” I replied.
“Happy birthday,” he said lightly.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I pulled you away from your party.”
“Please,” I said. “It’s fine. I’m not a huge fan of birthday parties anyway. Plus, my friends are all about two drinks away from not knowing whether I’m there or not. Slipping out for a bit is no big deal.”
“Good,” he nodded.
We were both quiet for a while. I felt like the impetus was on him to speak, but it ended up being me who broke the silence. “…Did you drive me all the way out here just to tell me ‘happy birthday?’” I asked.
“No, that wasn’t the only reason,” he said. He was nervous, I could tell. He kept rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, and I knew that it had nothing to do with keeping them warm.
I waited, but when he didn’t explain himself, I got impatient. “Hello? Are you going to tell me why you brought me out here or not?”
I was looking at him, but he was looking out the windshield. “Yeah…um…,” he started. “I…I wanted to tell you…it’s just…,” he sighed, apparently exasperated with himself. Then he turned to me. “You know, I still find strands of your hair all over my apartment.”
“I…” What?
“They’re everywhere. On my couch cushions, on my sweatshirts, on my pillow.”
Okay, so Luke Davies has obviously lost the plot. “Um, I’m sorry? It’s one of the hazards of having long hair,” I said, hoping that he hadn’t just brought me out here to discuss the fact that I shed like a golden retriever.
“No, it’s not…you don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “I’m glad I find them. Really. Not because I’m building a voodoo doll or anything. It just, I don’t know, I guess it reassures me that you were really there. In my apartment. In my life. That I didn’t just imagine you.”
“Nope, I was there. I remember,” I said bitterly.
He sighed. “Listen, you’re pissed at me and you have every right to be. At the end I…handled things…badly.”
That’s the understatement of the century. I pursed my lips and said nothing, hoping that my silence indicated my agreement.
“I wish I hadn’t acted like that and if I could go back and do it all over again, I would.”
Still I was silent.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he shifted in his seat and grabbed my hand, “I miss you, Lyss. So much. Losing you destroyed me. You were the best thing to happen to me in a long time, in forever actually, and I fucked it up by pushing you away and I’m sorry. But now I realize how much I want, how much I need you to be a part of my life. I don’t work without you. I want to be with you, Lyss. Always.”
My heart leapt into my throat and for the second time tonight, I felt like my brain was shutting down. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. I tugged my fingers out of his grasp. “I…I don’t know how to respond to that,” I sputtered, and I truly didn’t. On the one hand, this was the vindictive dream, wasn’t it? The man who broke your heart walks back into your life to tell you that he was wrong and wants you back. It was the perfect opportunity to exact revenge on the bastard. And a part of me wanted to. A part of me wanted to crush him. A part of me wanted to say something like, “well that’s too damn bad,” or “you should have thought of that before,” and then make him drop me back off at the bar so that I could slam the car door in his stupid face. A part of me wanted to hurt and reject him just like he’d done to me.
But another part of me, a bigger part, didn’t want to do that at all. That part of me remembered how right it had felt to be with him, how happy I was. That part of me didn’t think that he was a bastard with a stupid face. On the contrary. That part of me liked everything about him, including his face, and wanted to jump back into his arms and stay there forever. But even so, I couldn’t forget what had happened before.
I looked down and started playing with the seam on my armrest. “It’s just, getting over you has been really hard,” I admitted. “I tried pretending like I was okay, but I wasn’t. I’m not. And last time, everything was fine between us until suddenly it wasn’t. So how do I know that six weeks or even six months from now you’re not going to pull the exact same thing? How do I know that you’re not going to get all moody and distant and leave me right back where I am now, having to get over you all over again?”
“You just have to trust me,” he said. “Lyss, look at me.” I raised my eyes to his and he brought his hand to my arm. Even through my coat, I could feel the warmth from his touch. “I fucked up before. Three months ago, you came into my life and you set it on fire. I felt like I’d been asleep for years and then all of a sudden I was jolted awake. And there was fun, and there was laughter, and there was music again. Good music. That I was writing. I mean, my god, you know how long it’d been since I’d written anything that was even approaching good. But then, we started to edit the album. And I was listening to these songs that I’d written over and over and I realized how far into this, into us, I was. Things had gotten so serious between us so quickly. And every relationship that I’d had up until I met you had ended.”
I grimaced at him and pulled away. “Gee, really? Because I married my high school sweetheart and now we live out in the suburbs with our two kids and a dog. So I have no idea what it feels like to have a relationship end.” That was sassy, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Realizing that things were serious was not a reason to shut me out like he did.
“I just meant that I felt like we had nowhere to go but down. We couldn’t just keep sailing along like we’d been doing. Eventually things would fall apart because they always did. And I started to think about how hard that would be. Especially down the road. Like if you were that big a part of my life and then a year, two years from now you weren’t there anymore, it would be devastating. I wouldn’t recover from it. And I couldn’t risk that. So I pushed you away because I thought that it would make it easier to separate myself from you. I didn’t know that’s why I was doing it at the time, but I can see it now.”
“Then you should have just broken up with me,” I said, remembering how shitty it’d felt to have him avoid
me like the plague.
“I couldn’t. I honestly couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to leave you, Lyss. Not really. I think that I wanted you to leave me so that I could hate you for a while. Then I’d be able to move on,” he said. “But I don’t want to move on.”
I thought about that for a second before I said, “Right now.” Luke looked confused, so I explained. “Right now you don’t want to move on. But how do I know that you’re not going to want to in the future? How do I know that you’re not going to close yourself off like that again?”
“Because I’m not,” he said. “I’m not. I realized that just because we’re dating doesn’t necessarily mean that we’ll break up one day. There is another alternative: We could stay together.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The fact that you didn’t realize that before makes me seriously question your mental capabilities.” Of course I recognized that there was a very real chance that Luke and I would break up someday. But, up until a few weeks ago, everything had been so great between us that I hadn’t really felt the need to worry about it.
“I know. I was fucking stupid. I’m sorry,” he said. “But now that I know what it feels like to lose you, I’m not going to let that happen again. Ever.”
Well, okay, that was romantic. But still. “I just don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know.” And then I turned to face out the window.
“Lyssa,” Luke said after a minute. I didn’t respond. “Lyssa,” he said again. I continued to look away. He reached out to touch my cheek. “Lyssa. Lyssa.” Again and again he said my name, like he was calling out to me, like he was beckoning me to return to him. God, wouldn’t it be so good if my name were Stella and I were standing on a balcony right now? Finally, my resolve gave way. I couldn’t fight it anymore. I turned back and let him pull me into his strong chest.
With his arms wrapped around me, he whispered, “Don’t ever leave me baby,” against the top of my head. See, this was why we were so good together. It was like our brains operated on the exact same frequency.
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