“You do not have to do this,” Sailor says.
“I know,” I answer her with a smile.
“Well, it looks like things will be just fine here,” Britt says with a smile and starts to leave the room.
“Wait, Britt,” I call and she stops. I fish my phone out of my pocket and unlock it. “Can you add your phone number? I don’t have it and in case something like this comes up again, I’d like to be able to get hold of you. Is that okay?”
“Yes, definitely,” she says as she takes my phone and types in her number and a moment later hands it back. “I texted myself so I have your number too. No worries, I’ll only give it out to the highest bidder,” she says with a smile and a wink before she leaves the room.
“You know, she may be serious,” Sailor says. “I hope you don’t live to regret that.”
I smile, but focus on her, “What’s going on? Do you need or want to talk? You said you aren’t sick, but clearly something is going on. Can I help?”
I suppress a grimace as twin tears fall down her cheeks at my words, but she shakes her head. She opens her mouth to say something and then closes it again. “What?” I encourage and wipe one of the tears away from her cheek hating the fact that it’s there. “You can talk to me, I’m your lover now, remember?” I say making a joke hoping for a smile. The corner of her mouth trembles, but that’s all I get. “I hope you know you can trust me. Well, hell, maybe you don’t. But, I’m telling you that you can.” I’m rambling but can’t seem to stop. I just want to make her feel better.
She pulls the covers back over her head and this time it encompasses me too. Her folded hands are under her chin and her eyes are on mine. I wonder if the act of hiding under the covers makes her feel comfort, as if it’s safe and nothing can touch her in here. “Have you ever had a secret that you’ve kept tight in your heart for so long that just the thought of telling someone, of actually speaking it out loud, is painful?” Her question comes out a whisper as if revealing just that much is painful.
Another tear falls from her eye and she swipes at it with a Kleenex. My heart aches in my chest and I rub my hand there as if I can soothe it, but I can’t. Most importantly, I don’t know how to soothe her ache. “I may know a little bit of what that feels like,” I whisper back.
“I’m not sick physically, Maddox. I’m…I’m heart sick today. And I’m not sure I can talk about it.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to. How about we focus on something else? We start slow, and if you want to talk, you can – no pressure – and if you don’t, you don’t.”
“Okay,” she says, “but what do you mean by ‘start slow’?”
“Remember our game at the club, Never Have I Ever?” I ask and she nods her head. “How about we do the opposite. Tell me things about you that are true. It can be small, or big. Then I’ll do the same. We’ll go back and forth, until we don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Alright,” she says softly. “You go first.”
“Spiders creep me out,” I reveal. “I know I shouldn’t admit that and be manly or whatever, but no. Sorry to tell you if one was here right now, you’d be on your own in a second. The fuckers are freaky,” I shudder at the thought and she giggles a little, my heart lightening at the sound. “I mean, they have eight eyes – why in the hell do they need eight eyes? To better plan your murder with is the only thing I’ve ever been able to come up with.”
This gets me another giggle, “How does having eight eyes help you plan a murder better?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure that has to be why.” I smile at the smile on her face. Turning toward her more, I mimic her posture. “Your turn.”
“I think most vegetables are disgusting. I imagine that when the devil has feasts in hell the whole table is full of vegetables from his garden. Little demon peas, stabby carrots, radish eyeballs, apocalypse broccoli – the list is endless.”
I laugh, I can’t help it. Her statement is so unexpected and she delivered it with such vindication it’s hard not to. “But you ate a salad once at dinner. And you had soup that if I recall had vegetables in it.” I remind her.
“I don’t mind lettuce but I pushed the other vegetables to the side, and the soup had potatoes and sausage in it which I like, so it was fine. Plus, I was nervous to eat in front of all of you and the prices on the menu were astronomical.”
“But we paid for dinner,” I tell her.
“So what? I was supposed to order lobster? I don’t think so.”
“I was a science nerd in school. Loved chemistry; it just came easily. If I hadn’t gone on to be a singer I think I would have liked to have been a crime scene investigator.”
“Wow, really? That kind of stuff wouldn’t have freaked you out? Like going to crime scenes and seeing dead bodies?”
“Maybe, I don’t really know. But I would have loved to be involved in performing the science behind the act of violence in order to help bring a killer to justice. I find the whole thing fascinating.”
“I was a complete nerd in high school,” she says. “A loner.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” I tell her. She’s gorgeous, but more than that she’s smart, funny, kind, talented – it’s hard to believe.
“It’s true. I was the weird kid that was in foster care because her parents died. People tend to shun things that are different from what they understand.”
Instead of telling her something lame like I’m sorry, or asking her more about something that’s likely painful, I try to think of something else I can tell her. “I lost my virginity when I was seventeen, in a car, after prom my junior year in high school,” I tell her. “It was with a girl named Jessica Ward. It was awkward, fast, and at the time I thought it was awesome because…well… I was seventeen.”
She giggles again and I love the sound. “Britt is my first true friend. I love her and I can’t imagine myself without her. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like in high school if I had had a friend I could talk to, someone to turn to. Sometimes I worry I’m doing this friend thing all wrong and I get afraid she’ll leave and I’ll be all alone again.”
“Not going to happen. And now you not only have Britt but you have me, Nixon, Henley, Jace, Rocco, and that guy at the bar you worked at.”
“Dusty.”
“Yeah, him. See? You’re surrounded by people now.”
“You guys are only putting up with me because you have to,” she says and the sadness in her eyes makes me want to punch myself in the face for being an asshole to her at times.
“No, that’s not true. We may have been upset by the idea of having a female join – but you weren’t the real target. We’re all really glad that if we had to have someone join us, that it was you. You’re like a fungus that grows on people.”
“Gee, thanks,” she chuckles softly, but then sobers quickly.
“I hate seeing you sad,” I confess to her.
“Shh, this is helping,” she says. When she sees my look of disbelief she adds, “Really. I promise.” She shifts and pulls something light pink from under her and pulls it to her chest.
“What’s that?” I ask reaching out and touching the threadbare faded fabric.
“Oh,” she looks down at it and I think her cheeks pinken a little. “It’s uh, it’s my baby blanket.”
“Your baby blanket?” I ask curiously.
“Yeah. I’ve had it…well since I was a baby. It’s one of the only things I still have that my parents gave to me.”
“That’s sweet,” I tell her and give it a caress before pulling away.
“Don’t make fun of me,” she says with a little smile.
“I’m not! I said that it’s sweet.”
“Yeah, sure. Until you go and tell all the guys about it or something.”
“I would do no such thing.”
“Alright, I’m holding you to that,” she tells me.
I hold out my pinky finger, “I swear.” She smiles and grips
my pinky on her own and we shake on it.
“Your turn,” she tells me. “I told you about my blanket and Britt. You owe me a good one,” she teases.
I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s just because I trust her. Maybe it’s because we’re huddled together in her bed like this and it feels quite like nothing can hurt us in here. Such a childlike way to think and behave, but it’s comforting in that way. Maybe it’s because I’ve never said it out loud before. Sometimes I feel like it’s building up within me so much that it’s going to burst out of me, and if I’m not careful it will be ugly and out of control. I’d rather talk about it with someone like Sailor than have it come out in an ugly way with anyone else. That’s the way it is with guilt though. The weight of it crushes you until you can’t help but reveal it. Until holding onto it becomes much worse than simply confessing your ugly truth. If nothing else then at the very least doing so makes you feel like your soul has a chance of becoming untarnished once again. That releasing the weight of it will finally make you…free. Maybe it’s all of these, or none of these that make me tell Sailor about my own secret.
“I was very much in love once,” I tell her and she stills. “After the disaster that Jessica was in high school, I ended up falling for a girl named Miranda. She and I were chemistry partners our senior year. We always joked that it was more than science we created together that year, it was also love.” I laugh softly, “Lame right?” Sailor shakes her head no, but other than that she hardly moves. “Oh come on, I write songs for a living and I couldn’t come up with something better than that?”
“I like it,” she whispers.
“But, when you fall in love, or even dream of it happening to you, no one tells you that it isn’t always easy. Love while amazing, beautiful, exciting, fulfilling, and earth shattering can also be hard, sad, hurtful, and sometimes ugly. Do you know what I mean?” I ask her.
“No,” she whispers. “I’ve never been in love. I’ve never let anyone get that close to even attempt to feel that way.”
I nod, not having words for how sad that makes me in some ways and how I envy her in others. “There are times, that I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with Miranda. And that’s an ugly truth if there ever was one, Sailor. And I hate myself for it. But you see, as the band became more popular, and she went onto college, our desires and priorities changed and we drifted apart. We tried to do the long distance relationship thing, and it worked for a little while. It was exciting at times to let the longing between us build to finally come together and see each other again. But at the same time each successive occasion we came together, we realized how much we had changed and were drifting apart.”
“That would be hard,” Sailor says sympathetically and I realize that she’s reached out and is holding my hand. I squeeze it in my own, thankful for it.
“It was. So is it any wonder that eventually it came to a dramatic final act?” I laugh bitterly. “I surprised her one weekend,” I look at her and raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you can guess where this is going. I showed up at her place unannounced, excited to see her but if I’m honest with you, also tired and wishing I could have just stayed home. The feeling of being expected to fly back and forth and to be there any time I could, then feeling guilty when I couldn’t was becoming difficult. I wish I could have just been honest with her, told her how I was feeling, ended it on the phone – even though that isn’t ideal – instead of pushing myself and her.”
“You know what they say about hindsight,” Sailor says.
“True. When she answered the door, I said ‘Surprise!’ and pushed my way into her apartment. I saw the guy sitting there on the couch, her look of shock, her misbuttoned blouse, and I didn’t realize what I was looking at for a moment. When it finally dawned on me, when I looked in her face and saw her smeared lipstick and discomfort, I knew right then that my feelings for her had long since simmered to loving her, but not being in love with her anymore. Why? Because I barely reacted, I didn’t say or do anything to him. I barely spoke to her other than to tell her where to meet me in twenty minutes as I left.” I look at Sailor now, grip her hand to my chest. “Why couldn’t I have just left? Why did I have to ask her to meet me somewhere? Why did I need to prolong the breakup?”
“What happened?” she asks, and by the look on her face I know if I chose to stop there and not continue, it would be okay with her. She would understand. We would move on. But, after coming this far, after the fact this is the first time I’ve voiced some of these feelings, I can’t stop now.
“She showed at the coffee house and I calmly told her that I wasn’t mad, that I knew we had been drifting away from each other for a while. I told her that I wished her a wonderful life. Told her goodbye. I didn’t let her talk. She tried to say something, maybe explain, maybe disagree, I don’t know. I held my hand up and told her I didn’t want to hear it. And then I left. I walked out of that damn coffee shop and I never looked back. I was angry, yes, but Sailor…part of me… part of me…”I choke and feel a tear of my own fall down my cheek. “Part of me was relieved. Happy that the weight of a dead relationship was no longer on my shoulders.”
“That’s understandable,” Sailor says and when she wipes a tear from my face, I watch her in awe when she brings it to her lips, and kisses it, mimicking when I did that to her once. I realize right then that I love her. I want more than anything to kiss her. To tell her that she’s mine, to make her feel the same way if she doesn’t return my feelings. But, I keep it to myself. I try to relax and wish my racing heartbeat to slow down, to slow my quickening breaths in which react to my surprise realization. I don’t want to scare her, push her away, make her nervous or uncomfortable. So, I say nothing. I do nothing. I just keep talking.
“It wasn’t until two days later I found out that after I left the coffee shop, she left as well. Instead of grabbing a taxi back to her place, she chose to walk the few blocks home. And she was…she was…attacked.” Sailor gasps and grips my hand tighter. “Viciously. That’s the only way I can describe it, the only word that seems descriptive enough. She was beat and robbed, her purse stolen. She was beat so horribly, that she’s in a coma. That was a few months ago, and they don’t know if she will ever wake up.”
“Oh, Maddox. I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry.”
“No. Don’t apologize to me. I’m the villain in all of this. Don’t you see?” I ask her and I push the covers off of us and sit up no longer feeling like I have the right to stay hidden. The words I said and my feelings behind them too monumental to keep hidden under a blanket.
“What I see, Maddox, is a man that broke up with his girlfriend. Your asking her to meet you in order to do so privately was not something selfish or an act that is not easily understood. It’s not something you did wrong. And your leaving without letting her talk, your not being able to hear what she had to say for herself right then, is okay too. You have a right to your feelings, no matter what they may be. And you are not responsible for her choice to walk home nor for the act of violence committed against her. What happened to her is not your fault.”
“It is!” I yell at her standing up now. “Maybe if I hadn’t given up on us, had tried harder, if I hadn’t fallen out of love with her, then it wouldn’t have happened. I was enjoying some of our early fame and the ease in which I could have my choice of many women. I didn’t choose to try to turn things around, stop the chasm from spreading wider. And I was too proud that day. I could have walked away without another word, but no, I wanted the final word.”
“Maybe. And maybe despite all of those efforts that you could have made, you both may have fallen out of love anyway. And who’s to say that she wouldn’t have wanted to meet for closure and that something different, but equally violent, wouldn’t have occurred? And suppose she had ended up being here and living with you, perhaps some other tragedy would have befallen her – a car accident, a robbery, or something else. You don’t know! The only person to blame for this is the person that beat and robb
ed her. Not you,” she gets out of bed and walks to me. Her hair is in tangles, her pajamas a little twisted from her moving around in bed, the tip of her nose is red from crying and my god she’s never been more beautiful than she is like this. She’s raw, open, honest, and as she takes my face in her hands, the look in her eyes almost brings me to my knees. It’s as if she holds my salvation inside. I see kindness in her eyes, caring, concern, but mostly it’s what I don’t see. There’s no blame, no disgust or pity. “It is not your fault,” she tells me holding my gaze the whole time. And I do fall, I fall to my knees and I wrap my arms around her waist, and I let myself cry for the first time since all of this happened. I weep for the loss of Miranda. For years she was my best friend, a woman that I did love for a long time, my first love. And I miss her. I haven’t let myself feel that, have used whatever I could to mask it because I didn’t think I was deserving of letting myself emote. And Sailor, she just coos to me, runs her hands through my hair, puts her own pain on the backburner from whatever she’s dealing with today, and takes on mine. If I hadn’t realized before that I love her, I would have now.
I pull away from her, look up into her face, and when she smiles down at me, I find that I’m returning it. “A bit better?” she asks.
I nod, “I haven’t let myself…mourn for her. Since it happened. I’ve just been…”
“Acting out?” She asks and I know that she’s put it all together. Why I’ve been such an ass these past few months.
“Yeah,” I nod. Without another word, I lead her back to bed. She gets in, and I climb beside her and this time, we don’t put the covers over us. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me and my pain,” I tell her and push her hair behind her ear. “Especially when I know you are clearly going through something of your own.”
“Don’t ever apologize for talking to me, Maddox. Okay?” I nod. We stare at each other for a moment and I hesitate for a second and then, I slowly move my head to her. I want to kiss her. More than anything.
Broken Melody (Graffiti On Tour Series) Page 20