by Ashley Drew
Only, this hallelujah is not the one I expect. Because I think Mateo is right.
If my fruitless attempts at filling that page with my words and these boxes with my belongings are any indication of what I’ve always known in my heart, then I can’t waste any more time. I know what I need to do.
But Mateo might be wrong about one thing.
It may already be too late.
I’m sitting at the dining table in near darkness when Cooper walks through my door, the only light shining from the table lamp in the living room. With his grey suit jacket tossed over his shoulder and the collar of his shirt unbuttoned, he trudges out of the dark threshold as the jingle of his keys clanks against the table by the entrance. The twelve hours at the office must’ve been unkind to him, as his disheveled hair and the drag of his step suggest.
But the second he meets my gaze, I forget I’m even sitting in the dark because the spark in his eyes and the curl of his grin are enough to light up every corner of the room. The image of him standing there, smiling because of me, wrings the ache out of my heart.
He crosses the room with a slight bounce to his step, his smile never leaving him, and throws his jacket over the back of the chair.
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” he teases when he steps in front of me, taking my hand and pulling me from my seat. He lays a sweet kiss on my lips as his hands cradle each side of my face. “What are you doing sitting in the dark, baby?”
I bring my hands to his cheeks. The gentle gaze of his bright blues never fails to make my heart do funny dances in my chest, but when my head finally catches up to it, scolding it to quit acting a fool, it stops. A few of his blond locks fall delicately over his face, and my fingers brush them back into place before moving to the smooth curve of his jaw. “Waiting for you,” I tell him.
“Mateo home?” he asks as he places another kiss on my lips before walking to the living room.
“At work.”
“Good, because I have to tell you, he’s gone mad if he thinks I’m going to wear a top hat with my tux.” He flips on the lights. “His sense of fashion is about a hundred years behind. It’s 2001. Not 1901.”
Carefully, I watch Cooper, each of my hands tugging nervously at the other as he looks around the brightly-lit room. The delight on his face reminds me of a kid on Christmas morning, a kid in awe of the candy-filled stockings lining the fireplace and the mountains of presents wrapped neatly in festive paper. I didn’t think it was possible to hate myself more than I already do, because how do you tell that kid everything is about to be taken away from him?
“It looks like I wasn’t the only one who was productive today,” Cooper acknowledges, running a hand though his messy hair. He walks to the other end of the living room, where the wall is neatly lined with a dozen stacked boxes, filled and sealed tightly. “Maybe we can start moving some of these this weekend. What do you think?”
I slowly make my way to the living room. Earlier today, I wouldn’t have been able to walk a foot in this place without falling over something. You can live in the mess you make, or you can clean it up. So, I did it. I packed it all up.
I brace my arms against the back of the sofa as my head hangs low between my shoulders, the motion bringing me thoughts of Nick and the day I’d left him in his kitchen. Quickly, I push myself up. “The school called today. They wanted to know if I’ve accepted the position.”
Cooper turns toward me, his face beaming. “Great! When do you start?”
I suck in a breath of air before whispering, “I declined it.” I’m not sure he hears me, but when the curl of his mouth slightly drops, I know he must have.
“Wait,” he hesitates, his eyes squinting beneath the furrow of his brow. “You declined it? You were so thrilled when they offered it to you. Why didn’t you accept it?”
I want to ask Cooper to sit, but there’s something so foreboding about asking a person to do that in conversation. Whether he sits or stands, it won’t change what I’m about to say; the effect of my words will make the same impact.
But before I even say the words, he notices the handwriting on the boxes and moves closer to take a look. My lungs just might explode as I watch him, because with every rise and fall of my chest, I’m inhaling more than I’m exhaling. But I may have underestimated them.
“What…what is this, Corinne?” His fingers trace over the Santa Cruz address scribbled in black marker on one of the boxes. And then he notices the other eleven boxes, marked in the exact same way. “It’s a little soon to be packing up for Santa Cruz, no?” he jokes but it never reaches his smile. “We’re not even married yet. Corinne?” he says my name, looking at me over his shoulder.
Moisture pools in the corners of my eyes, my breath hitching when I respond, “I’m going home, Coop.”
“Home? Yeah, home with me. You’re moving in with me, obviously.” His smile disappears behind a forced chuckle. “We’re…we’re getting married,” he stutters.
I walk around the couch and stand in front of him. The urge to wrap my arms around his neck is quickly subdued by my guilt, and I slowly shake my head as the dreaded words escape my throat. “I can’t marry you, Coop.”
I’ve never seen a person grow so pale in a matter of seconds. It’s as if my admission punctured a hole in Cooper’s chest and drained every drop of blood from his body.
“What do you mean? I don’t…I’m not understanding what you’re saying, Corinne. You’re joking. You can’t be serious, right?”
I sniff back a tear. “I’m sorry.”
“Wait. You are serious,” Cooper realizes, wiping his hands down his face before planting them on his hips. His glossy eyes grow wide with disbelief. “You really are serious. I don’t understand, Corinne. Where...where is all this coming from?”
I take his hand in mine, and the cold feel of it is unsettling. A part of me thinks he might resist, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. I lead him to the couch and we sit, our hands still intertwined.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you. And though you may not see it this way, I never meant to hurt you. There’s a reason why you and I got together, Coop. When you came into my life, I was a mess. I let you in because you understood what I was going through. You were there for me. We grew close. We fell in love. And apparently, they say everything else is just history, right?”
He doesn’t answer, but I don’t expect him to. I search his eyes for a sign he’s still with me, and he is. But he’s slowly disappearing behind the curtain of confusion and hurt.
I continue. “The thing is, everything else isn’t just history for me. My history means as much to me as my future does. I know I promised you my future, but I can’t give it to you if I’m still holding on to the past.”
Cooper releases my hand and leans back into the corner of the couch. He runs his hands over his face, and I notice the trail of wet residue smeared across his left cheek. His eyes stay fastened to the floor, and I hate that he can’t even look at me. “What is it, Corinne? What is it about your past that you can’t let go of?”
I take a deep breath before answering, “Nicholas.”
At the sound of Nick’s name, Cooper’s eyes shoot like darts in my direction. Disbelief, anger, and heartache gloss over his eyes, and I can only assume it all makes sense to him now.
I lose track of time with each minute briskly melting into the next. One minute, he’s sitting on the couch beside me, taking in everything I have to say, and the next, he’s pacing the living room, his heavy footsteps and voice echoing through the air and vibrating against the windows. I flinch when he slams his hand against the wall. Between each of his achy breaths is a ‘how could you?’ and ‘I never thought you could do this,’ and all I want to do is throw my arms around him and tell him how sorry I am. But even I know there aren’t enough sorry’s in the world to rectify the damage I’ve caused.
When he calms, he asks for the entire story—Nick’s and my story—and I give it willingly because Cooper des
erves to know it all. He needs to understand why, but all I want to do is curl up in a ball when he asks if there was something he could have done differently. The sting of those words are like taking a thousand of the sharpest needles to my heart, and I bend over my knees and bury my face in my hands as tears prick at my eyes. My breaths are shaky, and I wipe away the moisture with my palms before the tears break out in floods. The couch dips, and when I sit back up, Cooper is next to me, a crimson halo circling each of his eyes. He brings a hand to my cheek and brushes away a fallen tear with his thumb. I press my face into his hand, finding comfort in the warmth of it.
Releasing his hand, he shifts his weight forward and leans his elbows over his knees. “Your friend, Braiden. He calls you Benster, doesn’t he?” he asks, his voice now low and calm.
“Yeah. How do you know that?” I question, pulling my legs into my chest and hugging my knees.
Cooper shakes his head and smirks, staring down at his crossed hands. “When I was at the bar that night, he kept referring to you as Benster. I didn’t put two and two together. Now that I think about it…” He trails off.
“Love makes you see only the best in people,” I shamefully admit. “It blinds you of the possibility that they could hurt you.” It’s an awful truth and one that I’ve seen both sides of. “I’m sorry, Coop. I’m so, so sorry.”
He shoots me a sidelong glance. “I’m sorry, too. Better now than at the altar, right?” he attempts at a joke, trying to make light of the situation as his mouth tugs at a one-sided smile. But I can see how much this is crushing him.
There is no doubt in my mind—I love Cooper. A part of me always will. But as I reflect back on my dad’s words, I realize now the love I feel for Cooper isn’t the kind of love you give to someone you vow to spend your life with. He deserves to have that.
And I do, too.
DATE: Monday, September 10 at 9:31am
FROM: Corinne Bennett
TO: Nicholas Kelley
SUBJECT: And the award for the Biggest Chicken Shit on the Planet goes to...
Come on, Nick.
Did you honestly think I would begin this e-mail by giving away the best part of it? That would be like giving away the twist of The Others, revealing from the get-go that Nicole Kidman’s character is a ghost. I saw that one a couple of weeks ago. A total Sixth Sense rip-off but still creepy nonetheless. I should’ve noted the spoiler alert at the beginning of the e-mail, but let’s be real here. You were never going to watch it anyway. I always did love watching you squirm whenever we’d put on a good horror flick. It was quite cute, actually. We’d snuggle close to one another, your arm wrapped tightly around me, even though you knew I wasn’t scared, but you needed the comfort more than I did, and I didn’t mind it at all. Why do you think I made you watch them with me in the first place?
I wanted to call you instead of writing this e-mail. And I tried. But do you know how long I stared at my phone, debating whether or not I should pick it up and dial? Imagine the entire Boyz II Men album on repeat to the point that I’ve had to retire my favorite way to depress myself, because I completely scratched the shit out of it (RIP, Boyz. Thanks for the depressing times). The truth is, I was scared to call you. There. I said it.
I. Was. Scared.
I don’t know what was worse—the anxiety of waiting for you to pick up, or the agony of waiting for you to call me back if I had to leave a message. Maybe both. No matter what, I was too afraid to find out. Why do you think I wrote that letter when I left six years ago? I was too afraid to face you. I wasn’t any less afraid back then than I am now.
I shouldn’t have left you, Nick. The minute I returned to New York, I knew it. New York should have felt familiar. Cooper should have felt like home. Yet, they both felt so foreign to me. I already knew it, but I was too damn stubborn to see it.
I spoke with Tess last week. It wasn’t easy getting that girl on the phone, but you know how tenacious I can be. After the thirtieth call, she decided it would be easier to pick up and hear me out, rather than see my name flash across her caller ID once more. So, we talked. It might not be sunshine and rainbows between the two of us from here on out, but it’s a work-in-progress. I suppose she’s a little suspicious of my intentions when it comes to you, especially when I left, again, but how can I blame her? She’ll never admit it, but she’s our biggest fan, Nick. She always has been.
Tess told me about your breakup with Riley and how she didn’t take it well. Of course she didn’t. She had her heart broken by the person she planned on spending the rest of her life with. I only met Riley once, but I know enough to see why you fell for her. She’s a good person, just like you, Nick. Selfless. Loving. Just amazingly good. But good people get their hearts broken, too, and she lost you. God, Nick. Riley is going through the very thing I’ve feared ever since you and I crossed that line from friendship to more. The reason why I left six years ago. The reason why I’ve stayed away for so long.
Losing you.
I know you’re hurting, and I’m sorry for that. But honestly, Nick, I’m not sorry you’re not with her anymore. Is it wrong that I felt more hope than regret when Tess told me about the breakup? That the first thought that crossed my mind was what it meant for me? What it meant for us? Go ahead. Call me selfish. Call me inconsiderate. When it comes to you, Nick, I will always be selfish because I want you for myself.
Mateo said the easiest thing I would write in my life were my wedding vows. How wrong he was because THIS is the easiest thing I will ever write:
You’re my best friend. You always will be, but I want it all, Nick. The good and the bad. The friendship. The love. The fights. The makeups. The kisses. The late nights. The early mornings. The lazy afternoons. ’Til death do us part. The 2.5 kids. The minivan. Us. You and me. Cori and Nick. Our initials etched into the cement in front of Kelley’s. All of it. Forever.
We may have fallen out of touch, Nick, but I never fell out of us, because I will never stop falling for you. I’ve always known I wanted this…wanted us…and to say that I was in denial would be the biggest understatement.
You said you couldn’t wait for me, Nick, but I’m asking you...wait for me. Please don’t let it be too late for us. After everything I put you through, I don’t deserve your patience, but I’m taking advantage of your compassion and asking you for it; I’m begging you for it. We’ve wasted so much time already. We’ve allowed time to dictate our past, but please don’t allow it to dictate our future. I’m finally coming home for good...to Santa Cruz...to you, packed and ready to go. I have baggage, but who doesn’t? So please...just wait.
Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for. The big reveal. The twist. The biggest chicken shit on the planet? Drum roll please...
It’s me. It has always been me, Nick, not you, because you were never afraid to cross that line with me, nor were you ever afraid to love me. So, thank you for being brave for us. Thank you for showing me how to face my fears. But most of all, thank you for loving me.
There you have it. Corinne Bennett—vulnerable, gutless, and a chicken shit. Did I also mention jobless? Wow. What a catch I am.
I’m on a flight early tomorrow morning. My dad said he’d pick me up at the airport, but...I think he’d understand if you told him you’d like the honors. But only if you want to. Only if you’ve decided to wait for me. And I hope you have.
Because I’m finally coming home.
All my love,
Cori
I know what it feels like to lose Cori. I’ve experienced it not once, but twice in my life. To watch the person you love walk away because they can’t love you back has to be the most gut-wrenching pain one can endure. But at least they’d still be here, even if they decided to run off to the furthest corner of the world, they’d still be out there, somewhere—out of your life but at least living in the same world as you and breathing the same air.
Until today, I didn’t know what it felt like to really lose her. Because now I’m faced with a very
different reality: the possibility that she is gone. That Corinne Bennett—best friend and love of my life—no longer exists in this world. That instead of flesh and blood, all that remains of the vivacious, impulsive, beautiful woman I have loved my entire life are the memories of her tucked away in my mind. That I could walk the world from end to end, or travel the infinite trails of the universe, and I still won’t find her. She still won’t be here.
I lost count, but as I redial Cori’s number for what feels like the hundredth time, every busy signal chips away at any hope I have of seeing her again. Each minute that passes without any assurance of her safety, my heart beats just a little bit less and breaks just a little bit more.
“Come on, goddamn it!” I curse, glaring down at my phone, as if yelling at it will miraculously put Cori on the other end of the line. Squeezing my eyes shut, I’m ready to hurl it against the wall so it smashes into oblivion, because if I get one more busy signal, I’m going to fucking lose it.
But I know I can’t do that because if—no, when Cori calls—I have to be ready to pick up.