One Song Away

by Molli Moran

  He made me believe, tonight. He made me believe he’s as in love with me as I am with him, but it’s still only me filled with longing. Only me with a ripped up, blown apart, useless heart.

  Suddenly, being in his bed is suffocating me. I stand and hunt for my dress in the semidarkness. When I find it, my hands are shaking too badly to put it on at first. I make myself count to ten and then try again. When I’m dressed, I feel less breakable. My shoes. I need my shoes. I have to leave.

  “Claire, wait.” Jake reaches for me, but I jerk away from him before his fingers can graze my skin.

  If he touches me, I’ll stay. If I stay, I’ll listen to him. If I listen to him, he’ll tell me that he’s flattered, but he doesn’t love me like that. And if he tells me he doesn’t love me back, whatever strength I have left, however I’m holding myself together at all, will be gone. And I know what I look like broken. I don’t want to go there again. Each time I’ve fallen apart, it’s been harder to put myself back together. I’m not sure I can recover from another break.

  “I have to go.” I shove my feet into my shoes, not even caring if they’re buckled.

  “I need to explain—” Jake’s hoarse voice tugs at me.

  “No.” I hold up a trembling hand, palm out to stop him. “No, you don’t have to explain.” My bag. Where’s my fucking bag?

  Jake crosses the room, stopping a few feet away from me. He could reach out and pull me into his arms, but he doesn’t. He could tell me it’s okay, but he doesn’t. He could tell me he loves me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rakes a hand through his hair. I know he doesn’t want to hurt me, but he’s going to anyway.

  “I do, though. This isn’t what you think. You’ve got to let me tell you what’s really happenin’.”

  “I know.” I exhale sharply. “You love me as a friend. You always have. You went along with our arrangement to be nice. You were attracted to me, maybe even into me, but you don’t feel the same way I do. You were going to sleep with me earlier, but you aren’t in love with me. Does that about cover it?”

  I find my bag and clutch it tightly for something to do other than look at him. His eyes are tearing me to shreds. Why does he get to look so upset when I’m the one falling apart one breath at a time?

  Jake stands, pacing. “No. Dammit, you’ve got it wrong. If you’d just listen to me—” He breaks off, slashing his hand through his hair. “Claire, did it ever occur to you that despite thinking you know it all, including what I’m feeling, that I care about you, too? That you could be wrong?”

  “No, I think I’ve got it right.” Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I walk to his door. I turn back once. “This was fun, and I’m real sorry I fucked it up.”

  My voice breaks on the last words, and I know I should go. I should, but I don’t want to, because as soon as I walk out of this room, it’s all over—our relationship, our friendship, our bond. I’m not ready to lose everything.

  I don’t want to go.

  “You don’t…” I’m choking on my words. On disappointment. “You don’t know what it’s like.” I barely whisper, but the room is quiet, so I know he hears them. “Everyone loves you, and you…you’d love anyone but me.” Hot tears fall so fast that I can’t even wipe them away before more follow. “You don’t know what it’s like to ache for a touch, a kiss…anything. You are all I have ever wanted, the only thing I’ve ever been selfish enough to want for myself.”

  I’m not ready to give up our phone calls and emoji text conversations. I’m not ready to give up Freshly Ground. I’m not ready to give up Jake’s hugs, or that smile, the one he always saves for me. I’m not ready to be done, to walk away and have to find out who I am without him. And mostly, I’m not ready to give up this dream that one day, he’ll love me, too. It’s ruined me and it’s saved me, and I am not sure who I’ll be when it ends. All I know is that it has to end.

  I have to end it. Now.

  “Goodbye, Jake.”

  I take the step past the threshold of his room. And even though it takes every fucking bit of strength I have, I keep going. Out the front door. Down the street, even though I think I hear him calling after me. By the time I make it to Time Out, I can barely see through my tears to find Sloane’s car. It’s unlocked, and I slump into the passenger’s seat. I send Sloane a quick text, not even caring if it’s legible or not.

  She finds me there ten minutes later. I’m barefoot and I can barely speak through sobs. She doesn’t say anything. She just opens her arms and holds me while I cry.

  ___ ___ ___

  I’m back on my couch, where I started the evening. Well, technically, it’s tomorrow, but since I haven’t been to bed yet, it’s all the same to me. Going to Time Out, Jake showing up. Those too-brief moments when I thought we were on the same page. And then there’s just pain. This pain that makes breathing hard. I know it’s because I haven’t stopped crying since Sloane found me, but it feels like my heart is breaking. My chest aches with every short breath I take.

  Sloane, Brenna, and Mina finally help me to my bed, and without asking, they pile up with me. I haven’t said much of anything since they brought me here. I’m sure Sloane told them some variation of the story I told her, but they haven’t asked. I know they’re waiting until I’m ready, and I appreciate that.

  The problem is, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. I knew this might happen, but I hoped with all my heart it wouldn’t.

  I’ve been here before. I’ve broken up with guys, and been broken up with. I’ve ended it via text message, via screaming match. It’s been ugly and civil. And this sharp ending of something that was never real hurts the worst. With the other guys, even if we were together for some time, I could grieve them and move on. Or know I was better off without them.

  It’s different with Jake. He’s in all of my memories. He’s everywhere. In the framed picture on my nightstand. In dozens of pictures in my camera roll on my phone. In the few videos of us, me dancing around his kitchen while he tries to cook.

  “Soph? Honey?” Sloane pushes my hair away from my face.

  I make a muffled sound so she knows I’m still awake and somewhat functioning. Cassidy is asleep on the other side of me, so I don’t want to be loud and wake her. She passed out about an hour ago. She cried almost as hard as I did. Jake is practically a big brother to her, and I think she knows that this isn’t just a fight. This is…the end.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I’ve never heard Sloane so tentative. Like she’s afraid if she pushes me too hard, I’ll shatter.

  I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a moan. I know I can do better than this. I can be better than this. My mama raised me to wipe my eyes and keep my chin held high, no matter what happened. She always told me that it’s okay to be sad and it’s okay to mourn an ending, but that I can’t let the ending destroy me.

  Sloane puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. It’s almost too much contact, after everything earlier with Jake. Right now I should be snuggled next to him, asleep. Having wonderful dreams about us. Instead I’m here without him.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sophie,” Brenna says. Her eyes are full of tears, and just now, I love her. I realize again while looking at all of them that I have friends. True friends who are here for me in the middle of the night, who aren’t leaving. Friends who want to help, even if there isn’t a lot they can do other than keep me breathing.

  “We talked in the park for a while.” I suck in a deep breath. Was that only hours ago? “He told me he wanted to be with me, and after that, things moved quickly. We went back to his place and things got heated. We were about to make love when I told him I love him.” When I close my eyes, I can still see him sitting there, unmoving, after my confession. “He didn’t say it back. I guess that’s why he was always so careful never to tell me he loves me. I just…made assumptions.”

  Someone takes my hand, so I open my eyes. It’s Mina. She squeezes tight. “Is there any chance he was just shock
ed? Didn’t know how to react?” She frowns. “We were so sure he felt the same.”

  “I don’t know.” I dab at my eyes with a tissue. I’m so tired of crying. “He tried to explain, but I left. I probably should have stayed and heard what he had to say, but I just ran. I couldn’t handle him letting me down gently. Even if he was shocked, he could have tried harder.” Breaking away from Mina, I frown. “I knew there was a good chance this would happen, but I thought it was worth it. I thought the risk was worth it, because there was also a chance we’d end up together.” My voice tangles around a sob, then shatters.

  Mina and Sloane exchange glances. I can’t tell what they’re thinking, but I don’t ask. I don’t want to dissect what happened any more than I already have. It won’t change anything. It will only make me more miserable, and getting over Jake is already going to be hard enough as it is. It would be different if it was just a crush, but in the last two months, we felt more real than any other relationship I’ve ever been in. I honestly thought that there wouldn’t be any need to pretend soon, because we’d be genuinely together. I thought that’s what we both wanted.

  I’ve never been so wrong in my life.

  “I lost him,” I whisper. “And I didn’t just lose someone I wanted to date. I can’t go back.” I let out a slow sigh. “I lost one of my best friends tonight. He’s been my friend almost as long as I’ve known you,” I say, looking at Sloane. “And I just…lost him.”

  “I don’t think you lost him.” Sloane’s eyes hold mine, but I look away.

  “Yes, I have. And the sooner I get used to that, the sooner I can move on.”

  But the new tears sliding down my cheeks tell another story.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I’m twenty-two years old, but right now, I’m curled up in my mom’s bed with my head in her lap. I’m supposed to be at work, but I called out this morning and no one asked me any questions. So here I am. Crying so hard that my chest aches. Mama keeps stroking my hair, probably trying to lull me to sleep so I’ll finally get some rest, but I can’t sleep.

  I keep flashing back to last night. To Jake’s hands on my body, to his mouth on mine. To my confession and the aftermath. To the silence I wanted to slash and tear and burn. To the shards of what’s left of my voice. I could only speak in a hoarse voice to Mama when I got here. She doesn’t even know what happened, but she hasn’t asked, either.

  She starts humming one of the songs she used to sing to me when I was little and scared and sad. It helps me breathe. I quiet enough that I hear the sound of the door opening. Cassidy is there, in pajamas that make her look younger than she is. Her eyes aren’t as puffy as mine probably are, but I can tell that she’s cried more since we got here. She crosses the room slowly, pulling a blanket off Mama’s hope chest as she makes her way over to me. Once she reaches the bed, she settles in beside me and lies down facing me. I look into her eyes, and I feel as young as she is.

  “I know it sounds ridiculous for me to say this,” she says slowly, “considering what I know about life goes about as deep as a thimble, but I think you’re going to be okay.”

  “You do?” I whisper. It’s all I can mange.

  Cass nods, wrapping the blanket around both of us. “Yeah, I do. Ever since I was born, you and Wes have been there for me, and you’ve been my heroes. I’ve watched y’all get into situations I didn’t know how you’d get out of, but you always managed it. I watched you take risks, and grow. And that was all I ever wanted to be. Fearless, resilient, brave. Just like my big brother and sister.”

  “Even though I’m a hot mess right now?” I produce a weak laugh that feels paper-thin to me.

  Nodding, Cassidy takes my hands in hers. “Even when you’re a hot mess, you’re still the fiercest person I know. Wes taught me how to change a flat tire, how to play basketball, and how to knee a guy where it hurts. Mama taught me how to cook and how to be kind. Daddy taught me how to drive. But you, Sophie, you taught me how to be strong. I watched you to go Nashville and start a totally new life. If you were scared, you never showed it. And then you came back here and made the most of it. And you gave your whole heart to Jake, even though you knew the situation was complicated.”

  I let out a hiccup-sob and squeeze my sister’s hand.

  Cassidy snuggles closer. “And that’s brave. That’s damn brave. I’m sad for you, Sophie, but you tried. You did. And that’s braver than most people ever are. So yes. I still look up to you. I still want to be like you.”

  Mama has been silent through all this, but now, she sighs. “Perhaps just not as many tattoos.” I glance at her, and her sparkling gaze holds mine.

  Last night, I never thought I’d laugh again. But now I feel a belly laugh coming—a laugh you can’t tame. It just has to be let out, simply because it feels good. The kind of laugh that ends with your stomach hurting. I can choose to be happy, for just this one moment, or I can choose not to be. It’s a simple decision, and it’s all mine. So I open my mouth and a giggle emerges.

  Impossibly, it feels good. I slept fitfully last night, so I had a lot of time to think. I thought about how I don’t have to be okay today or tomorrow or next week. About how I will determine when I’m healed and my timeline is the only important one. No one is expecting me to be magically better, and it’s okay if I’m not okay.

  If there’s a ton of heartache to wade through until then, that’s as it should be. I can’t shut down while I heal. I can’t stop living.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I don’t know if Jake and I will find some way to stay friends or acquaintances, or if what we had is over. There’s no telling know how long it will be before I can look at him and not think about kissing him. I know my heart will never, ever be the same, and I don’t know when it will heal.

  But until then, I have to keep living. Even if it’s hard. Even if it’s just one scared step at a time.

  I slowly untangle myself from the blanket. Sitting up, I face my mom. Even though the expression feels shaky and scary, I try to smile. “Mama,” I say, clearing my throat, “would it be too much trouble if I ask you to make Cassidy and me some pancakes?”

  My mom smiles. “Nothing is too much trouble for my girls.”

  ___ ___ ___

  When I finally go downstairs, I smell coffee and pancakes, and I put some “pep in my step”, as my mom would say. I showered for what felt like days, as if the hot water could wash away both my exhaustion and my trepidation. My plan is to open up to Mama and Cassidy over brunch. I know they’ll be upset, but I hope they won’t be disappointed in me. Logically, I know they probably won’t be, but…

  Why is it that growing up brings its own fears? Moving out, making adult decisions, grown-up relationships—it’s all amazingly freeing, but so huge, too. I want so dearly to do right by my upbringing. To succeed in whatever I do. To make my family and friends proud. And inherent in that desire lies the fear of letting them down, even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong.

  I don’t feel as brave as my little sister thinks I am, but in time, I’d like to be.

  Mama and Cassidy are talking when I enter the room, and since their backs are half-turned to me, they don’t see me. I lean against the threshold and listen to them. They’re discussing Cassidy’s boyfriend, Elijah, and how much Mama likes him. Unlike me, Cassidy will be happy about this. When I was her age, I wanted to date the wildest guys I could find. I dated some good guys who happened to be bad boys, and I dated some losers. I think Jake broke one guy’s nose.

  Cass is different, though. She’s softer than I am, strong in a different way. It took leaving to grow into who I’m meant to be, and I think it took coming back to realize that I already am the best version of myself. Or at least I’m getting there.

  Watching them, I smile. Cassidy is animated, her cheeks dusted with a blush and a smile. Mama is talking with her hands like she does, waving and flapping and gesturing. It’s such a heartwarming picture that I want to freeze-frame this moment. Cassidy
is a wonderful contrast to me. She’s just now learning about love. I know too much.

  I frown, realizing my mom has gone quiet. When I glance at her, she’s watching me. Her eyes are like an oncoming worry-storm, so I shake my head gently.

  “It’s okay, Mama. You don’t have to tiptoe around me.” Hoisting myself onto a stool at the counter, I grin. “I think you were talking about how polite Elijah is.”

  That’s all it takes. Mama chatters as she flutters around the kitchen. She’s doing everything: mixing batter for the last batch of pancakes, setting the island with plates and silverware, checking on the bacon in the oven, and generally making me feel like a lazy ass. I try to jump in twice, but we almost collide both times, so I step out of the way and let Hurricane DeeDee work.

  She finally takes a breath once Cassidy and I are eating. She fixes her own plate, sitting with what sounds suspiciously like a happy sigh.

  “You have a sickness,” I say through a mouthful of bacon. “You do too much.”

  She waves my words away with her fork. “Never you mind, Sophie-Claire Wright.” Her blue eyes are dancing. “If I didn’t love what I do, I wouldn’t do it.” She shrugs, and sips her juice.

  I swallow a bite of my food, and then put down my silverware. “So. I’m sure you’re both wondering what happened…”

  “We don’t have to talk about it,” Cassidy says quickly. I love her for worrying about me, but I think I need to do this.

  “No, I want to.” I take another bite of pancake, but my stomach chooses this moment to rebel. I know I can’t eat any more of the food, no matter how yummy it is.

  “Okay, but if it gets to be too much…”

  “Cass.” I smile at her, grabbing her hand for a squeeze. “It’s okay.” Pushing away my plate, I clear my throat. “Well, I guess I should start with a confession: Jake and I weren’t really dating.”