Right Next Door

by A. J. Pryor

  She’s quiet for a moment and then she asks, “Are you still mad at her? Because you know, people make mistakes and it’s important to forgive them.”

  “You sound very wise for your age, Em. But no, I’m not still mad at her, worried about her, but not mad.”

  She nods in understanding and suddenly Susie is calling my name.

  “Hey Damian.”

  Looking to the doorway, Susie is standing there, her arms crossed in front of her. “Hey.”

  “Sorry, but your hour’s up.”

  “It is?” I look at my watch and she’s right. For the first time in two weeks, I hadn’t paid attention to the minutes slowly ticking by.

  I kiss Emily’s head and stand to leave. “Damian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “She’ll come back.” She sounds so confident.

  “I hope so.”

  “Crap, Addison. Where the hell are you?”

  I smile at the sound of Paige’s voice. I’ve missed her.

  “Walking up my front steps.”

  “It’s about damn time. We’ve all been worried sick. I can’t believe you took off on all of us, without a word. Where have you been?”

  It was a cowardly move to leave, but one necessary for my survival.

  “I’ve been finding myself.”

  She huffs. “Did you find her?”

  “Eh, almost.”

  “Damian is a basket case.”

  I’m silent. Still reeling from that night, his words play repeatedly in my mind. But it’s time to face the music. After a month of soul searching and job-hunting, I have a plan. I bought a new phone and I’m walking up the steps to my apartment. It feels different, not like home. Everything feels different. Damian’s car is gone and I’m thankful I don’t have to face him just yet.

  “Addison.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Whatever happened between you guys, I don’t think it was as bad as you thought.”

  “It was bad enough.”

  “Do me a favor. Don’t take off like that again. That wasn’t cool.”

  “I’m sorry Paige. At the time, it was my only option. I’ll call you later and fill you in on my future.”

  Opening my front door I instantly know something is different. My white shag rug is back in place, there are now two red pillows, not just one. It smells different, lived in and there are dirty dishes in the sink that weren’t there before. I head into my room and am shocked to see clothes thrown all over the place. Damian’s clothes.

  A sick feeling of anxiety runs through me. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do what I have to, but it’s for the best and it’s for both of us. I put down my bag and begin to pick up his clothes. One T-shirt at a time. Meticulously folding each one then smelling it, rubbing the soft material against my cheek and burying my nose so deep in the folded cotton, trying to memorize the scent that is unique to only him. My thighs begin to tingle and a flash of lust sweeps through me, with the knowledge that the one man who holds the pieces of my puzzled heart is in close proximity, forcing my body to react the only way it knows how.

  “You’re back.”

  I turn, startled that I didn’t hear anyone come in. He’s standing in the doorway, his presence taking up the entire space, his aura filling the room. He looks bigger than I remember and he hasn’t cut his hair in a while, it’s growing longer and my hands twitch with an eagerness to know what it feels like.

  His dark eyes are studying me, overflowing with worry, sadness and desire all at once. There’s an invisible line of tension running between us, neither of us knowing where to begin or how we allowed things to get so out of control in the first place.

  I can feel him breathing across the room, his chest expanding and retracting, and I follow the motions hoping it will help my own breaths come easily.

  He takes a step towards me and my heart slams into my chest. I can hear it pulsing in my ears. My skin feels heated, too hot and I start to sweat as nerves rack my system.

  “Addison, look at me.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes, hoping, praying this would all just be over. Slowly opening them, he’s right in front of me. Close enough for me to reach out and touch him, pull him to me. Balling my fists by my sides and setting my resolve in place to say what must be said, I take a slow steady breath.

  “I’m moving.”

  His eyes close and his face scrunches up like I’ve punched him in the gut.

  “Don’t.”

  “Next week, I’ve rented an apartment in Santa Monica and I’ve taken a job in a law firm down there.”

  “Addison, I didn’t mean anything I said to you.”

  “You were so mean.”

  “I know,” he whispers, his eyes cast down, his head hung in shame. “I was so mad at you.”

  “I didn’t say yes to Matt.”

  He nods. And his hand rises to touch me but stops right before it lands on my cheek. “I’m sorry, Addison. I’m so unbelievably sorry.”

  “You don’t trust me, Damian.”

  He closes his eyes and fists his hands by his sides. “I do.” Slowly his eyes open and he relaxes his stance. “You let another man put a ring on your finger.”

  “You shouldn’t have left me alone with him.”

  “No. I shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “But seeing him mark you like that and thinking you said yes, it almost killed me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  And I am. I’m sorry I let Matt in knowing nothing good could have come of it, I’m sorry I didn’t run after Damian when he left that night, I’m sorry I opened that door and allowed him to say all the nasty things I knew he didn’t mean, but most of all, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us.

  “How is Emily?”

  “She’s doing well for a very sick little girl. She asks about you.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut and taking in a deep calming breath, I feel his hand brush my hair out of my face. “Where have you been, Addison?”

  Slowly opening my eyes, I look into the face I’ve desperately missed. “Looking for the other half of me.”

  “Did you find it?”

  I sigh and sit on the bed, taking his hand and bringing him down beside me. His palm is rough, calloused, new blisters have formed, and I know he’s been killing himself at the track while I’ve been gone. So many things need to be said, so many unspoken words that he needs to hear. He’s shaking, his hand gripping mine as we sit side by side.

  “Damian—”

  “No, Addison. I don’t like the tone of your voice. You are not going to end us.”

  I squeeze his hand tight and continue. “Leaving for a month, being completely on my own made me realize, I’ve never started over. I pretended to hit the restart button when you moved in. But a real restart is finding yourself and I’ve only found part of me.” I look into his sad eyes, hoping he knows he’s that part. “But I needed to find the rest and I can only do that by myself.”

  He kisses me. His lips connecting with mine, his hand resting gently on my face.

  This isn’t fair.

  His other hand rises to my cheek and as both hands cup my face, he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside our joined mouths and dancing with mine. I’m breathless and he’s stealing all the air from my lungs. I place a hand on his beating heart and it’s racing as fast as mine. Sliding it up to his neck, I run my hand through the back of his hair and let the soft feel of it slip through my fingers. Breaking the kiss, I gently pull away.

  He doesn’t let go of my face, his eyes searching mine. “I know what it’s like to fight hard to get yourself back, but Addison, you don’t need to do it alone. Let me go with you.”

  I shake my head. “Maybe one day, Damian. But right now, I need to do this by myself.”

  “Addison, I was hurt and mean and trying to run from something I should have been running towards. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me. I’ll tell you about Megan, just please, don’t leave like this.”
>
  His voice is hoarse and tormented. And while I know we can’t move forward until he tells me what happened that night six years ago, this move is about me and I would be making it either way.

  “My whole life I’ve felt stuck, making decisions to stay put because I was too afraid to take a chance on life. I don’t want to regret my life, Damian. If I stay, if I let you take care of me, I’m no better off than I was five years ago.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Damian, you walked in my apartment and automatically assumed in the three hours you’d been gone, that I’d taken Matt back. You don’t trust me to love you and maybe I don’t entirely trust you not to break my heart. Because I won’t survive that Damian. I need to do this, not for you, but for me.”

  He stands and paces my room, rubbing the top of his head with both hands and breathing heavily in and out. “Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want, I won’t give you a dime, you can still move and we’ll do a long distance thing. I’ll do anything, but please don’t cut me out of your life. You may not need me, but Addison . . . I need you. I’m completely lost without you.”

  Kneeling in front of me, he takes both my hands in his. “I barely made it through a day without you. Look around. I moved in here while you were gone, not being able to stand the sight of my own bed. You never answered my calls. I had no idea if you were dead or alive. Do you have any idea what that felt like, Addison?”

  If only he knew the desolate feelings that ravaged my body this past month. The numerous times I almost broke down and called him, it was that feeling, the empty hollow pit in my gut that made this choice easier. By leaving, I take the risk of losing him forever, but the price of losing myself, is too great to ignore. This past month away opened my eyes to the life I’ve been missing. Watching people jump from peg to peg on that obstacle course in Venice a month ago, their strength to persevere and keep fighting stirred something inside me. Some of those contestants have failed multiple times on that obstacle course, and yet they keep coming back for more, they never give up and I can’t give up either. I love this man kneeling in front of me; love him with my whole heart, but that love means nothing, if I don’t believe in myself.

  Taking his face between my hands, I look into his big brown eyes. “I have a week left here Damian. One week. I won’t cut you out, but being more than friends will only make this break harder.”

  He buries his face in my lap, his hands caressing the top of my legs, his fingers skimming the skin just above the waistline of my jeans. Tiny electric jolts travel from his hands to my heart as his skin touches mine and I want to lie back and let him do to me whatever he wants. Take me one last time. But it wouldn’t be fair to him or me.

  “There is no way I can be around you and keep my hands to myself, Addison. No way.”

  Leaning down, I kiss the top of his head, breathing in his scent one more time. “Then I think you should leave.”

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he squeezes me tight, his head pressing into my stomach. He slowly stands, bringing me up with him. Placing my hand on his heart, “This is yours, you own it. When you’re ready, it will still be yours.” Leaning down he kisses me. “I’ll wait forever, Addison. But what we have—this only comes around once in a lifetime, don’t take it for granted. I know I was a prick, I can own up to that, but don’t use it as an excuse to run from us. You say you don’t want to regret your life. Then don’t let fear lead you away from me.”

  He turns and leaves, not looking back. The front door closes tight and my heart, which had been flimsily trying to stay in one piece, shatters inside my chest.

  I can hear her.

  Morning. Noon. And. Night.

  I hear her walking around her place, wrapping her dishes in paper, taping boxes shut. The screech of that damn packing tape is like nails on a chalkboard. I want to go over and throw it off the balcony, never hear that noise again. The walls are so damn thin I can hear almost everything she’s doing over there.

  Her friends have come to help. I bumped into Paige as she was leaving one night. She wouldn’t tell me how Addison’s doing, but the look she gave me said it all. She’s hurting just as much as I am right now. Fuck!

  I haven’t seen Addison. Mostly because I refuse to go on my balcony, and thanks to the paper-thin walls I know her every move. Makes my avoidance of her so much easier. I’m not strong enough to keep my hands off her so my strength comes in keeping my distance.

  I’m not sure I’ll survive this week.

  The times she showers suck the most. Each morning I find myself with my forehead pressed to the wall, my palms stretched out flat imagining I’m under the water with her, trying to be as close to her naked body as humanly possible.

  I miss the taste of her skin, the feel of her moving beneath me. I miss every sound she makes as her body climbs towards climax and the small moans she delivers when she’s finally there. I miss watching her teeth bite her bottom lip right before she comes and I miss the feel of her nails on my skin as her body finally takes over. I miss her stupid coffee mugs and her disheveled state after she tries to keep up with me step for step on our workouts. Most of all, I miss our mornings. I miss her so fucking much it hurts to breathe sometimes.

  I don’t want her to go and I don’t know how to convince her to stay.

  People talk about love and heartbreak all the time. Songs are written about it, paintings created for the sake of showing the image of one single relationship, thousands of books are written in painstaking detail about that one word, but none capture the feeling of a broken heart. The loss of blood that leaves you weak at the knees, the lack of oxygen making it hard to breathe when your mind so much as travels in her direction. It feels like someone has taken a hammer and swung it directly at my chest.

  Emily knew the day Addison returned and maybe she’s right about her girl instincts. For an eight-year-old, her insight is frightening. My mood must have darkened worse than before, relief that she was home and safe, but devastated that she wanted nothing to do with me. I’ve tried my best to keep a happy face for Em, but she’s a kid and they are more perceptive than any adult I’ve ever met.

  In the five weeks since Matt showed up with that ring, Emily has been in and out of the hospital. Frequent tests showing the chemo is working, but breaking down her body at the same time. Each treatment gets progressively tougher, and the risk of infection or illness skyrockets. But Em’s tough and she’s fighting this disease with all the strength she has. Meanwhile I’ve been fighting Thomas. My attorneys have won me visiting rights. He can’t ban me, but my time is still limited to an hour. Slowly, they’re working their magic on her adoption and by the time she’s cured, there will be no question where she ends up.

  If my timing is right, Addison officially moves tomorrow. I should go over, wish her luck, tell her I love her one last time. Fight harder for her. But the fear I could be one of her regrets, that in the end, she won’t want me because I didn’t give her the time she needed keeps me here, in my home, waiting for my heart to officially die. It feels like being on deathwatch.

  My phone rings and I hope like hell it’s not the hospital.

  Crap, it is.

  “Susie, is everything alright?”

  “No, you need to come right away. She’s had a bad reaction to the latest batch of chemo and she needs you, Damian.”

  And then I remember—I really am on deathwatch.

  I can let Addison go. It’s going to hurt like hell, but it’s not permanent. One day I will get her back. But Emily? If I lose her, it’s a forever kind of hell, one I’m not sure I’m strong enough to endure.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Bad reaction. That can mean anything. I can’t take this. It’s too much all in one week. Shit, I can’t breathe. My lungs hurt, and my stomach cramps up. I feel like I’ve run a marathon, my limbs slow and my body not in tune with what my mind knows it has to do.

  Emily needs me, but I can’t fucking breathe. If
something happens to her . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Racing out of my apartment, I have no idea where Addison is or what she’s doing, my purposeful avoidance of her thrown out the window to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, so I’m shocked when I bump right into her. It vaguely registers that she was on her way to my front door, but I don’t have time to hash this out.

  Her eyes widen at my sudden appearance and they’re filled with concern.

  “Emily’s sick. I gotta get out of here.” Brushing past her I begin to take the stairs two at a time.

  “Do you need me to go with you?” she calls from behind.

  Doesn’t she know I always want her with me? Running back up, I take her face in my hands. “Yes.” I kiss her, taking those soft lips between my own. “I always need you, Addison.” I kiss her again, because if I don’t, I’ll scream and no one needs that right now. “But they won’t let you in.”

  Holding her face between my two large hands, we’re both standing on the front deck of our building, so many unspoken words traveling back and forth between our eyes. Me telling her to stay, please stay and her saying goodbye. It’s such a fucking disaster.

  “Okay, well, please keep me posted as to how she’s doing.”

  I nod and take off. There’s nothing else I can do to make this situation any easier, or any less painful.

  Emily is wearing a respirator when I walk into her room. Her eyes are sleepy looking and she’s so pale she’s almost the color of her sheets.

  “How you doing Sweet Pea?”

  She cries. Tears stream out of both eyes. In the nine months I’ve watched her fight this disease, she’s rarely cried. The girl is tougher than any extreme athlete I know. So, watching those tears fall one by one, and I want to join her in the sob fest. I want to get down on my knees and cry with her because it’s so unfair. It’s all so fucking unfair.

  But that wouldn’t do her any good, so instead, I hold her hand and let her cry as I stroke the back of it, letting her know I’m here for her, whatever she needs.