Indecision

by Brittany Fuller

  Adrenaline always brings about instant sobriety, and I’m so over this shit. I’m done. Time to put the pieces of my life back together and stop playing this damn game. She’s mine, not his. And this damn act she’s pulling over last night is bullshit.

  With each swing, I make contact: one to the right then one to the left of his head. He falls back slightly. One more and his eyes close as he almost falls to the ground. Coming back at me, I make contact with his stomach, then one more of my fists collides with his head. His eyes are swollen. Blood is everywhere—his face, my fists—and still the rage inside only continues to fuel me.

  Ding Ding Ding! Times up, Trev. It’s time I put you in your place like I should have done that first night at Evelyn’s parents’ house.

  I don’t know who gets there first, but soon two people are breaking us apart. Rex is pulling me back, and Michael stands in front of us, trying to control Trevor.

  “She doesn’t belong with you! You don’t deserve a woman like her. She’s upper class, and you’re low as shit,” Trevor screams at me. Just as things seem to be calming down, both of us are now being pulled into separate corners.

  I lunge forward, not caring who I hurt but needing to break something, hopefully Trevor. My fist collides with Michael’s nose and it immediately squirts blood everywhere, right at the exact moment Evelyn comes barreling around the corner with Gwen behind her.

  “What is wrong with you,” she screams, rushing to her brother’s side. “Are you ok, Michael?”

  Gwen stands nearby, watching the scene unfold, a look of accomplishment shining bright in her eyes. She accesses the situation, taking in every detail of what just played out and loving every second of it.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I say, trying to step forward but Rex blocks my way.

  “Move, man,” I yell at my friend. But he won’t. He stays put and gives me a look that tells me to calm down and back the hell up.

  “Fuck!” I grit out between clenched teeth. I pull at my hair and continue to pace back and forth in the small space I’m confined to. I look at Evelyn, silently pleading for her to look back.

  “See what he’s done, Ev? Why are you even with this piece of shit,” Trevor seethes, looking at me when she starts to walk over to him to assess his wounds.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I yell, lunging for his ass again only to fall short as Rex pushes me forcefully up against the wall and back into my corner.

  Evelyn continues assessing the damage. What the fuck! Why is she touching him? Stop placing your hands on that piece of shit, baby. I might not look any worse for wear, barely having a scratch on me, but to hell if I can stand the sight of her hands on him right now.

  The fact that I’m not her first priority turns my blood to fire. It speaks volumes about the many things that have been going through my mind all day, the nightmare that I’ve been trying to avoid. Even though I have been fueled by the events of the day and one too many shots of Woodford Reserve, I know I’m not totally in the wrong for what just happened.

  It’s the look she gives me, though … Sadness. Hurt. Hate. It has me questioning why I wanted to fight for her in the first place. What the hell is going on here?

  Those things should not be questioned! Not when a man comes across what I just did! That’s a damn fact any red-blooded man would argue. Being forced to question myself now makes me think twice about ever fighting for her again.

  She doesn’t say a word. She stands in the middle of all our friends and gives me that look. That look that reaches deep into my soul and scares the hell out of me. My heart breaks seeing that look. Why is she so cold? What the hell has changed between us?

  This is not over. We’re not over.

  “I want to go home,” she says, beginning to cry.

  “I’ll take you,” I began.

  “NO,” she yells so loud everyone in the group flinches.

  Evelyn turns to Gwen. Gwen nods and hooks her arm through her best friend’s. Quickly, both girls start to make their way towards the exit. At first I stand there, shocked, as the realization that she doesn’t want me hits and slowly sinks in.

  “Evelyn,” I yell after her. “Evelyn!” When that doesn’t work, I take a different approach. “Darlin’! Baby! Where are you going? Come back!”

  But she’s gone. I watch her walk out the door and know I have to let her go. Whatever it is that she’s fighting, I can’t help her. Hell, I can’t even help myself right now. I can’t lose her. I just hope wherever she’s headed, she’ll somehow find her way back.

  Evelyn

  Neither Gwen nor I say one word when we leave Gatsby’s. The car ride home is silent. We don’t even bother turning on the radio.

  When we arrive back at the apartment, we still choose not to speak. I take straight to the bathroom, striping my clothes and makeup, hoping to strip the night away as well. I hop in the shower and turn the hot water up as high as I can. I want to feel it burn.

  Steam encircles me and with it agony, misery and pain. I feel my tears fall before I even notice I’m crying. And after the realization hits, I lose it. Curled up in a little ball on the floor of my shower, I sob harder than I have in my whole life.

  I pull at my hair, crying painfully. I want to make sense of everything that has suddenly happened in my life but feel like I can’t even begin to process it at all.

  Why did Trevor do that? What was Noah thinking? Did he think I was asking for it? Did he think I was enjoying Trevor’s hands and lips on me?

  Why am I so irritated at Noah anyway? So he worked late. So he didn’t call. I was already at the party anyway. He had told me to catch a ride with Gwen. Maybe he knew he would be working late. He did try when he first got there, and I was the one to brush him off.

  What did I say to him last night? Maybe it was something really stupid and fucked-up. God, why for the life of me can’t I remember?

  And damn what Gwen said to me the night before! Would I really not give up everything just for the chance to be with him?

  Just when I’ve sat on the bottom of the shower floor long enough to have myself convinced that I just maybe could give up everything to be with him, the fear rises. That burn. Damn it that burn that makes me feel like I can’t. I just can’t.

  Can I?

  Eventually, I make my way out of the shower, find my pajamas, and curl up on my bed. A knock sounds at my door, and Gwen slowly pushes it open. She looks at me and I think she might say something. I wait, but sometimes there are no words.

  Gwen sits down on the bed next to me. The look she gives me matches the way I feel inside. As much as she had questioned me and Noah the night before and wanted me to be sure, I know she wants me to be happy first. We sit there in silence the rest of the night, not saying a word and yet saying so much at the same time. She watches as I cry and then regain strength to only break down again. She never judges, just sits with me and silently hopes right alongside me that everything will be ok.

  * * *

  I stay in bed all Saturday. I can’t face the world and don’t want to try. I get up only to use the restroom and crawl right back to bed afterwards. I still haven’t heard from Noah, and the longer I go without word from him, the more I honestly don’t care.

  Around noon the text messages start rolling in. First from Rex, and then from Michael. There is even one in there from Trevor, apologizing and wanting to talk. I have nothing to say to him and swear I most likely never will again.

  Finally, there’s some from Noah. At first they’re sweet, then pleading asking me to talk to him. When he gets the clue that I’m not responding, he asks me what’s wrong. Then they turn heartbreaking and defensive saying how he doesn’t understand me.

  I’m not even sure I understand myself.

  Turning my phone off, I find more peace in not knowing they’re coming in than having to read any more messages he may have sent.

  I sleep most the day Sunday, and when Monday comes, I still haven’t turned on my phone or respon
ded to any of the messages. I find relief being able to lose myself in work. I’m on deadline with seven stories I have to wrap up before we go to print tomorrow, and throwing myself into work proves to be my only solace and exactly what I need.

  I feel somewhat refreshed, having stayed in bed all Sunday, not having talked to anyone or even checked my email or social media. I feel ready to face the week with a new outlook. I only hope it will be better to me than the events of last weekend, and maybe soon I’ll start to wrap my brain around what happened and what I just might want to do about it.

  I know I have to talk to Noah, so I make a plan to go over to his place after deadline. With work behind me, maybe I can think clearer and we can make some sense of everything that happened over the last few days.

  Finally turning on my phone around lunch time, I start off by checking voicemails and leaving the numerous text messages flooding in until later. There are a few voicemails from people I had contacted late last week about stories I need to write. Then there are a few from Noah that I skip past, not ready to hear them yet and needing to stay in work mode, but the one that stands out to me the most is the one I never expected.

  At first I don’t believe it. Trying to let it sink in and wrap my brain around it, I press repeat. Excited and extremely nervous, I wait to hear the voicemail again:

  “This message is for Evelyn Monroe. This is Carol with human resources here at the L.A. Times. We received your application, resume, and writing samples and recently had a position open in the news room. We would like to schedule an interview for the open reporter position at your earliest convenience. Please give us a call if you are still interested in the position. We look forward to hearing from you.”

  This is it! My dream! Someone pinch me because this can’t actually be happening.

  I sit there and replay the message again, scribbling down the phone number she left at the end of the message. My eyes are as big as saucers, and my heart beats out of my chest. My smile is wider than it has ever been before.

  If I land this job, I can move home. If I get this position, I can make the dream I’ve carried with me my whole life a reality. In one instant I have just been handed the possibility to not only launch an amazing career working for one of the top newspapers in the country, but I’m able to move back to where I always felt like I belonged.

  I stand, a little shaky, and head outside to my car before making the call. I want privacy that the office does not provide. I climb into the driver’s seat, shaking and extremely giddy. I wait for the person to pick up the phone as my future hangs in the air with each ring.

  “L.A. Times, this is Carol.”

  “Hi, Carol. My name is Evelyn Monroe, and I received a call to set up an in-person interview,” I respond, trying not to sound as eager as I feel inside.

  “Evelyn Monroe, good to finally talk to you. The editors are very excited to speak with you, young lady.”

  Learning my writing has made such an impression, I smile wider. I can’t believe that they like me as much as they are saying they do. I’m so thankful for the opportunity, I don’t even know what to say in response.

  “Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations,” I manage.

  “What does your schedule look like? When will you be available for a meeting,” Carol asks.

  “Well, I can be available anytime you need me,” I say, trying not to sound too desperate and forward. “I actually have an appointment in Orange County this weekend for a freelance article I am writing.”

  “How about Thursday? We’ve had a cancellation, and I know I can squeeze you in.”

  “Thursday,” I echo, trying to pull myself together even though my excitement is almost uncontainable. “Thursday’s perfect! I’ll be there!”

  “Great! We have your email here and will send you the specifics. We look forward to sitting down with you, Mrs. Monroe,” Carol says, concluding our call.

  “I look forward to it too,” I say.

  I hang up, feeling like I’m on cloud nine. I never thought something like this would await me this Monday morning. After a weekend like I had, this is just what I needed to start feeling alive again. For the first time in days, I feel the joy come back into my body and love every ounce of it.

  I have so much to plan before leaving. It will be a few long days in the office to be able to take off the rest of the week, but it’s worth it. I can drive down Wednesday night and stay with family. They will be excited if my interview goes well, and I in fact land the job, giving me the chance to finally move home.

  My mind races with all the possibilities this job could offer. I’m finally within reach of being able to obtain all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever hoped and dreamed of. I can’t wait to tell someone.

  Noah! I need to tell Noah!

  He might not understand at first, but maybe he will after we talk. He’ll be happy for me. Won’t he? Because he loves me. Doesn’t he? I would be happy for him if the tables were reversed.

  There is no time like the present. I put the car in drive and want nothing more than to speed like hell through town and down to Auburn. It’s Monday and I know he’ll be at the club. I drive as fast as my car and traffic will allow, anxious to share my good news with the one person I love most in the world and hopefully make right whatever exploded between us over the weekend.

  Noah

  After Evelyn hadn’t responded to any of my attempts, my decision is simple. I fought all I could and can’t fight anymore. I poured my heart out for reason’s even I don’t understand. She has dissed me repeatedly, and yet like a sick glutton for punishment, I still come back for more.

  When Monday rolls around, I drive to work, feeling worse than I could have imagined. Having drank myself to hell all weekend, I’m forced to face that our love is gone. No one has ever treated me with such disrespect, except for one person—and I made sure to erase her from my life. Throwing myself into work, a sick feeling comes over me when I realize I’m going to have to do the same with the only woman I have ever found that I never wanted to live without.

  I don’t know if I’m coming or going or what to make of my life when it comes to her anymore. This is absolute bullshit. I know one thing, deciding to stay and move closer to be with Evelyn is turning out to be the biggest joke of my life.

  I busy myself with work, and it isn’t long before I thankfully lose my train of thought, preoccupied with all I have to get done that day. Rex and Michael are there, and after some very awkward moments we seem good, silently forgetting what happened and moving on. So here I am, in the back of Gatsby’s, trying to focus on work and decide how best to approach the rest of my life now.

  Without her.

  “Excuse me, do you come here often,” comes a playful voice from behind me.

  I don’t have to turn and look to know who it was. My heart already breaks hearing her voice. I pause for a moment, but then quickly continue the task I’m working on before she renders me speechless yet again with that damn pull she always seems to have on me.

  She walks up to my side and leans against the table I have my plans spread across—plans I was trying so hard to fix and make sense of before she walked in, smelling of my past and tearing me apart. It’s a past that’s going to take all my strength to walk away from … if I know what’s good for me.

  God I’ll miss her smell, the way it lingered around me, the way it turns me on and makes me want to do things to her I know I’ll never want to do with any other woman. Hell, this is going to be harder than I thought.

  “What, you’re not talking to me now?” she asks.

  I sense the sadness in her voice and hate myself for not breaking like I want to and forgetting everything I’ve felt up to this moment. I want to grab her and kiss her, long and hard, until we both can’t think or feel anything but the way things should be between us. Until carnal need takes over and we have to restrain ourselves from taking it further on the workbench in front of me. Just like we used to. In the past.
<
br />   How did she already become my past when just last week she was the only future I would ever need?

  But I resist every urge. I don’t take her like I need to. And something in the back of mind, something that sounds a little like regret, plagues me. I push it away quickly and instead continue to focus on the task in front of me.

  “I don’t think we have very much to say to one another,” I tell her, still not looking up.

  “Come on, Noah, you know that is not true,” Evelyn stiffens, then softens her stance as she slides closer. It makes my breath catch, and I hope like hell she doesn’t see.

  “I want to talk to you about something … something I hope you’ll be happy about,” she says, searching for anyway she can to get me to open me up.

  “Oh, so now you want to talk? Seems to me like Friday night all I could get out of you was a cold shoulder,” I snap, moving to the other side of the table to try and put some distance between us.

  “That’s not fair and you know it,” she snaps back.

  I push back from the table and look her in the eyes. God she’s gorgeous. Makeup fresh and perfect, her hair slipped back in a low ponytail. She’s dressed in a black blouse and a pinstripe pencil skirt that hugs her waist and ass perfectly. High heels top it off, and I almost lose all control. Regaining my thoughts, I decide I’m not going to let her have the last word.

  No matter how good she looks, how good she smells, or how much I know no other woman will ever compare to her—to this, I have to stand my ground. She has to hear me out. I might need to make her my past, but if there is even the smallest hope for a future, she needs to listen. She needs to understand.

  “Really, Evelyn? I’m sorry. Yes, please tell me how I can help you? What is so urgent that now you find the need to want to speak to me even though my endless attempts for your attention over the last few days repeatedly were ignored,” I yell, watching her flinch. I can’t help it. She drives me mad. You don’t treat people you love like this.