by Scott, S. L.
“Everything I had left.”
Wanting to keep her here, I shove my hands in my pockets and watch her back away to return to the car. A breeze blows her blond hair in the air, messy and beautiful. Like we were. “Was it worth it?”
“Every penny.”
40
Meadow
“I don’t understand, Meadow.” Darcy sits across from me after making us tea. Leaning forward on her teal velvet chair, she goes on, “I saw you two together in Hawaii, listened to endless hours of you saying how amazing Ridge is, but here you are in London, dressed like a slumper on my couch.”
Tucking my legs under me on the fuchsia couch, I ask, “What’s a slumper?”
“It’s like a sloppy jumper. Look at your posture.” Darcy’s hands are in the air as if there’s no hope for me. Maybe she’s right. She adds, “Anywho, you’re changing the subject.”
“What’s the subject?”
“Nice try. You and that amazing man you left in LA. So explain again why you’re here and he’s there?”
“Because I’ve lived my whole life needing to do something for myself. When I’m there, I’m my parents’ disappointment, or Stella’s little sister. Rivers’s sister-in-law, or a student. Now that I’ve graduated, I need to be more than Ridge Carson’s girlfriend.”
She huffs, blowing a section of fallen curls away from her face. Wearing a silk shirt and pleated skirt, she holds her teacup and saucer in hand. Her casual wear is making me feel very slumper comparatively. She’s so elegant even when her hair is giving her the struggles us mere mortals deal with on a daily basis.
I tug at my alma mater’s sweatshirt and try to hide my slouchy socks under me a little more.
Standing up, she says, “Well then, it’s been three weeks. I’m not letting you sit around and pout any longer.”
“I’m not pouting.” I’ve so been pouting, but I can’t help it. I’ve doubted my decision while getting the work permit paperwork together. I questioned myself while packing up my apartment. I almost didn’t step on the plane to fly here. Even after all the weeks gone by, my doubts haven’t lessened.
She says, “There’s really only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Girls’ night.” She takes my hand and drags me off the couch.
I barely have time to set my teacup down before my ass hits the floor. “Ouch!”
Clapping, she says, “Come on, girl. We only have a few hours, and by how you appear, we’ll need every second.”
“I don’t want to go out,” I say, pouting on her expensive rug.
“Too bad. A fresh start means a new start, not carrying your problems like baggage around the world with you.” Her voice fades when she enters her bedroom, but she peeks back out. “Now!”
Rolling my eyes, I get up. Maybe she’s right . . . she’d be thrilled if I ever admitted it. “Where are we going?” I whine as I head for the bedroom where I now live, again.
Ridge
A squirrel outside the window has been chucking nuts at another squirrel hanging out on the fence. Normally, I’d be amazed, but even nut chucking squirrels can’t take my mind off my sunshine. “It’s another gray day.”
“Maybe you should call her,” my mom says.
I look back at her curled up on the couch. “She’s probably jet-lagged and tired from the move.”
“She’d still probably like to know you’re thinking of her.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I feel uneasy in my own skin these days. “I don’t know if I’d be a burden to her or—”
“Or a blessing? Go with the latter. She loves you.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She didn’t have to. Just like you don’t have to tell me the obvious.” I sit next to her and then flop back to stare at the ceiling. Her hand rests on my forearm. “She’ll come back.”
Rolling my head to the side, I ask, “How do you know?”
“Because I saw how she looked at you.”
“Like you love me.” Remembering the conversation I had with her warrants a smile, and I give in to it.
My mom says, “She may have made the decision to go, but it wasn’t easy to leave you. I know it’s hard on you, but I can bet it’s just as hard on her too.”
“How long do I wait?”
“As long as your heart tells you to wait.”
“My heart’s not speaking to me these days.”
Her smile is so good to see. She pats my arm. “It will when the time is right.”
“I hate the guessing game.”
“Me too.” I move closer, and she moves over. Holding my mom, I try to give her comfort as she always did for me. “But it will be worth it in the end.”
“How do you always hold on to hope?”
“I don’t. I just try to have faith.” Time is almost up, but I’d do anything to spend more time with her. “Your dad will be home to drive you to the airport soon. Are you packed?”
“Yes. Thanks for washing my clothes.”
She moves back over, resting on the arm of the couch, but her smile remains. “It made me useful again.”
That’s just it.
With her.
For Meadow.
It was never about me. Sure, I can bury Meadow into the shadow of my career, fitting her into my life without her experiencing any of her own. It might be fun for a while, but that would leave her empty inside. It wouldn’t matter what I did, or what I can provide. Nothing will make her see what we can be until she sees herself as her own person fulfilling her own dreams.
She told me what she needed, and if standing on her own two feet means I have to wait, then I think I can. Pushing off the couch, I kiss my mom on the head. “I need to get my bag. Thanks for being here for me.”
Before I head upstairs, she says, “Always believe in the possibility.”
I nod, remembering her saying that to me my whole life, but for the first time, it has meaning.
Meadow
Four texts in four weeks.
I guess Dave and I are doing better than we did last time. Some contact is better than none. I can tell from the awkwardness of the exchanges that he has no better idea how to navigate this change than I do.
It’s not fair to tell him, but I miss him terribly. I used to think we were great sex and chemistry. Now that those aren’t blurring my thoughts, I realize how much a part of me he has become. His laughter, humoring me over my bad jokes, late-night calls after he performed, checking on me after a test to see how I did. Listening to me vent about my parents, and then how alone I sometimes felt with my sister gone.
He knows me, and I know him and how he wakes up early to run an extra mile or two after binging on snacks with me. When he goes to Jet’s house, he makes sure to check on Hannah, his friend, just to see how she’s doing. That when his mother and I had coffee before I left, she brought his yearbook from high school to show me how he used to run on the track team. He’d never admit it now, but he won regionals.
He prefers movies to a night on the town, that he uses an alias with my name because he misses me. And that he doesn’t much care for the nickname Ridge but likes the anonymity it brings. He’s a Carson and not a Crow, and I love him so much that it’s sometimes painful.
Pushing off my desk, I roll my chair back. I need fresh air, a distraction from my own thoughts. When I walk out of my office, the rest of the office has cleared. Checking my watch, I realize it’s after five. Damn it. I’ve lost another day dreaming of how I used to spend mine, thinking about Dave.
“You bastard. You’re a complete wanker,” Darcy shouts from down the hall.
I run to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I knew it.” She points inside Carrig’s office, and I follow only to find Lola from HR climbing to her feet while Carrig rushes to pull up his pants. Darcy slams the door closed and storms toward her cubicle. “I knew I should have never trusted that rat bastard. He belongs in the sewage with that cheating whore.�
�� I struggle to keep up in the high heels I’m wearing, but her rant reaches far enough for me to hear. “She just got back from her honeymoon last week.” Whipping around, she says, “We should talk to her husband. He’s quite the catch, but she threw him back.”
With my finger in the air, I say, “No, I don’t think we should get involved in that.” I finally reach her, but she takes off again. “Darcy? Wait.” Grabbing her purse from the top drawer of her desk, she’s tight-lipped. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It was my mistake for letting my emotions get in the way. You’ve been right all along, Meadow. Who needs feelings when they only get in the way? We’re better off being independent, not needing anyone.”
“That’s not really what I said—”
She waves me off as she treks toward my office. “But it’s what you meant, and I’m agreeing with you. Who needs love when you’ll only get hurt? Fuck him. Get your bag, we’re going to get wasted.”
I don’t want to get wasted—because I think I believe in love now—but I owe her a night out after all the times she listened to me complain.
Ridge
We come off stage and I grab a towel to wipe away the sweat. I’m tossed a beer and down it like water. My muscles are drained and tight, so I round out my shoulder a few times before grabbing my bag and following the guys to the bus.
Three cities in three days.
Someone, I’m glaring at Tulsa, thought it would be fun to travel old school. Well, as old school as a jacked-up, fully stocked, locked-and-loaded tour bus can be. With a whiskey and Coke in hand, the adventure continues as we drive through the night to the last tour stop.
The first pothole sends drinks splashing over the edge of the cups onto our laps. Delirious from the wild show we just played, we crack up. We’re all too tired to give a shit about jeans and sweaty T-shirts.
I begin to reminisce about the old days and that shitty van I used to sleep in. “We were packed in like sardines. Chaotic Circus was the dumbest fucking name ever, but we landed good gigs. The five of us were broke, drunk on a good night, and smelled to high heaven. But we had good times together . . . until they went bad.”
Finishing off the rest of the drink that didn’t spill, I then add, “I’ve said it, but thanks for bringing me into the band. I was lost for a few years there, not having a home band that I could count on. Being a fill-in musician was never in my plans.”
Rivers claps my back. “We’re the ones who scored a badass guitarist dropped right in our laps. We know talent when we hear it. You always did outshine your old band.”
“Thanks.”
The Crow brothers share their own war stories of the early days—Tulsa was only fifteen when they started out. At nineteen, Jet had to get him home right after the show or their mom would ground Tulsa. Jet says, “The problem wasn’t getting him home. The problem was getting him home without a groupie in tow.” Shaking his head, he kicks the boot of his youngest brother. “Such a little shit, even then.”
Chuckling, Tulsa’s kicked back in a captain’s chair. “It all worked out in the end. Look at us now, Ma.”
A moment of silence is heeded, allowing my thoughts to wander across the great pond. Four weeks without her. I liked that encore break call, the habit, and her voice. Sometimes I hold the phone in my hand but then remind myself of the time difference and never push the button.
It was only a matter of time before my mind drifted back to the road trip. I have my pick of which trip. They both ended the same—me losing the girl—but lying in the back or looking up at the stars, time and distance has started to give me a new perspective. It’s become easier to remember the good, not just the bad.
Rivers says, “I bought Stella a car.”
This is new information. The two of them have held on to their old cars like they held on to a memory they didn’t want to forget. Curious, I ask, “Why now?”
“She was never a safe beige sedan to me.”
I sit up, repeating his words, “Safe. Beige. Sedan.” Visions of evergreen and trees, grass and the sea. “She was never a hotel suite or an apartment in the sky. She’s a home, a haven wrapped in a lullaby.”
From the built-in dining booth, Jet adjusts, resting forward on the table. “What’s that?”
“Meadow.”
Meadow
“I miss you.” Cradling the phone to my ear under my covers, my tears bleed into the sheets. I should have hung up when I got his voicemail, but my heart hurts so deeply that I gave in and decide to tell him. “I thought I would feel—”
“Are you awake?” My door swings open, and Darcy falls on the mattress next to me, the call disconnected, just as Dave and I are. The sheets are pulled back just as I hide my phone under the pillow and try to wipe my eyes. “Are you crying?”
“I’m tired. Go to bed.”
“I can’t sleep.” She rolls onto her back and stares up. The room is dark but not dark enough for us to hide our inner thoughts. “I didn’t love Carrig. He’s a wanker. But I liked him when he wasn’t being a wanker.”
I’m a terrible friend. Here I am, caught up in my own upset when my friend needs me. I move closer, resting my head on her shoulder. “You deserved better than him. You’re beautiful and vibrant, the life of the party, and you make a killer Cosmo. Fuck him.”
“Fuck Lola. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. God, I can only imagine the fans you had to beat off Ridge.”
Lying back, I stare up at the ceiling too. “I used to worry about that.”
“Used to?” she asks, looking at me.
That’s when I realize that I only had that fear in the beginning. Once Dave and I were together, it just disappeared. “His actions spoke louder than words ever could,” I say to myself as the revelation materializes. Sitting up, I look at her. “He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t cheat. I knew it, so I didn’t worry about that.”
“He sounds perfect. Are you sure you weren’t just blinded by love?”
“Blinded? No.” A laugh bubbles up. “I loved, love him with my eyes wide open like my heart. We took things so slow that we knew exactly what we were getting into.”
“I’m confused. Let me ask you again, Meadow. Why are you here?”
Why am I here again? I can still hear my dad’s voice in my head. Never rely on anyone because they’ll only hurt you in the end, like I’ve been hurt. Don’t be a fool like me. Protect your heart. Protect your assets. “My assets,” I mutter, getting up out of bed and pacing. “I have nothing, and he still wanted me.” He wanted me because he loved me. He wants nothing but me. “I thought I had to build a fortune, build a life, build myself from the ground up to feel whole.” Smacking my forehead, I see how clear it is now. “But I’m empty without him.”
“What are you going to do?”
Ridge
“I don’t know, man. My gut says go.” With my knee bouncing, I wait for him to finish his drink. When he does, he finally sits back, and says, “But it’s a long way, and I have to be in bed by eight.”
“Good point,” I reply. What the fuck am I doing? It’s a sad fucking day when I’m looking for advice from anyone who will give it.
Alfie sets his juice box on the counter, and says, “Mom, should Ridge go to England to get Meadow?”
I knew I couldn’t trust a nine-year-old to keep a secret. “Damn it, Alf. You said you wouldn’t tell.”
A jar stuffed full of money and labeled Swear Jar appears with Hannah. As I dig out some cash to add to the stash, I don’t dare make eye contact with my friend. I know what she’ll say.
And she says it anyway, “Yes. You should have gone a month ago when she left or, even better, stopped her from getting on that plane.”
I try to shove two bucks, getting credit for the next curse word, in the jar, but it’s too stuffed. “You’re going to need a bigger jar, Alfie.”
He runs around to a cabinet under the bar and opens the door. “Holy shit.” Three rows of full jars fill the cabinet.
He grabs an empty jar and puts it in front of me. “I think you’re going to need a jar of your own.”
Hannah laughs. “I think he’ll be able to pay for his own tuition at this rate.”
I drop my money into the new jar. He snatches it away, and says, “Uncle Tulsa says I need to invest in Corvettes. Chicks love Corvettes.”
“When did he become girl crazy?”
Shaking her head, Hannah says, “Tulsa’s started writing a book with him called Alfie’s Tips and Quips – For the Fly Guy on The Grow. I’m having a talk with him when he comes over tomorrow.”
Chuckling, I say, “They might be onto something here. Maybe you should ride it out and see where it goes.”
“Um. No. As for you, go get the girl.”
“What if she’s happy there? What if she doesn’t want to come back? What if . . . she doesn’t want me?” There. I’ve put it out there. I blow out a big breath, the confession lying on the marble between us.
“What if she does?”
“Good point,” I reply, repeating my earlier answer to her son.
Shoving me in the arm, she asks, “What are you waiting for? I checked the schedule, and you have nothing for the next week.”
“We have rehearsal.”
“No.” Her eyes roll up. “Well, yes. But you can miss it, and you know it.”
I stand and start to pace. “What if—”
“What if? What if? What if? There are a billion what-ifs you can ask, but you won’t know anything until you ask the only person who has the answers.”
“Meadow.”
“Meadow,” she repeats softly. Coming over to me, Hannah hugs me. “I love you, Dave, so I want you to have the same happiness I’ve found, to feel love like you deserve, to love like I know you can.” Stepping back, she adds, “Instead of asking yourself what if, ask yourself why not.”