Half-Truths

by Randileigh Kennedy

  “We’ll be here for a few days,” she explained. “His heart is in even worse shape than the surgeon thought before operating. But it’s beating, which they didn’t expect. I think we got our miracle.”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cheer, or scream, or cry. I had so much emotion going through me, and I just wanted something to come out, but I also felt frozen. It was a surreal moment. My mom talked to one of my uncles as they coordinated bringing my dad back from Stanford once he was released. There was a major recovery ahead for him, and mobility was an issue, but they were coming up with a plan for all of that. My brother and I hugged each other, and the entire world felt so much better.

  I called Brie first, and I could tell she was also relieved by the news. Then of course I immediately chided her for setting me up on a double date involving my most recent ex-boyfriend. I’d already dealt with the whole Wes thing while I’d been in town, and now my Nashville ex was also ruining my trip? The fact that he was playing at a small venue here when he was supposed to be heading south for his tour was a red flag. I wasn’t convinced it was a complete coincidence. Sure enough, after dinner my brother went out to check the mail and returned with an envelope for me.

  The return address was Kip’s record label. If this was some promotional flyer urging me to go to his show, I was going to vomit. He didn’t need a ploy like that just to get me in the same room as him. I wasn’t all mushy and oogly googly about the fact that he was a musician like all the other girls who swooned over him. That wasn’t why I fell for him. Yeah, music brought us together, but I thought we had so much more than that. Obviously I had been proven very wrong.

  I opened the envelope, infuriated to see exactly what I’d expected—a color flier with “Kip’s” face on it, listing the date, time, and location of his show. It was stupid. I wasn’t sure how his label even had my parents address, but I wasn’t amused. I stood up to throw it in the trash, but the handwriting on the back of the flier caught my eye.

  Whit ~

  I messed up. I know that. I know that’s why you’re not returning my calls, and I know I don’t deserve a second chance with you. But something BIG is happening for you—and it only felt right to be the one to tell you myself.

  PLEASE come to my show. The details are on the front of this. Please, Whit. This is everything you ever wanted. I promise.

  See you there.

  XX,

  Chris

  I appreciated that he had at least signed the letter with his real name. That showed some sincerity. But why couldn’t he just say what he needed to say? This is everything you ever wanted. I had serious doubts that he knew anything about what I really wanted. How about a nondirtbag boyfriend? I’d wanted that from him and didn’t get it, so what did he know? Now, with all this other stuff going on around me, maybe I wasn’t sure what I really wanted anymore.

  I sat down on the guest-room bed, still miffed that my parents had changed out my entire bedroom. It’s not like I expected them to keep it as it was. I mean, after all, I’d been gone three years. But still, there was nothing welcoming about this floral-print room with bad curtains and a giant—likely unused—elliptical machine taking up all the space next to where I slept. I pulled out one of my notebooks and tried to write, but I had too much on my mind. Usually the words flowed right out of me, but now, in this quiet, ugly room, I couldn’t get my mind off Sawyer.

  I knew he was busy tonight, preparing the presentation he’d mentioned to me earlier, so instead of calling him, I just shot him a quick text to let him know my dad was out of surgery. My phone rang immediately, and I was happy to see his name flash on the screen.

  “That kind of news is so much bigger than a text,” he said enthusiastically. I’m sure he felt a sense of relief from the news—not because he knew my father, but at least now he wouldn’t have to deal with the emotional wreck I’d become lately. It was good news all around.

  “Sorry, I just didn’t want to interrupt your planning meeting tonight,” I said thoughtfully.

  “I needed this interruption,” he said dryly. “These guys are killing me tonight. We’re not even halfway done. It’s taking forever.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you long. I did want to ask you about tomorrow night though,” I stated, still unsure I was really up for the concert. “Do you want to go to a show with me?”

  “Kip?” he asked suspiciously. “I saw the fliers around town. Some of the people at the conference were talking about it. They all know who he is. ‘Country music’s next big thing’ or something like that?” I may have sensed a glimmer of jealousy in his voice.

  “I don’t know about that; he’s only released an EP,” I scoffed, downplaying Kip’s success. Don’t get me wrong, I knew he was talented. But to be labeled as any kind of country sweetheart acting like he did, he had another thing coming. The truth was no one in the universe other than myself truly cared about the injustice he’d served me. He probably would be the next big thing in spite of it all, and I would simply become even more insignificant to the world.

  “Do you really want to go?”

  “Well, it’s for Brie,” I explained. That was true; I knew it meant a lot to her given she had set up the double date. I explained her encounter with Alex. “I got a weird note from Kip too. I think I should go, just to see what he’s up to. He made it sound important.”

  I wasn’t sure how much more to say.

  “So we’re going then,” he said quietly. “What time?”

  “We’re meeting Brie there around eight.”

  “Am I picking you up? The conference ends at five. I’m free after that.”

  “That would be perfect,” I gushed, already looking forward to seeing him. “Call me tomorrow when you’re done.”

  “My hotel room is going to feel sad and lonely tonight, now that I’ve slept in a forest with you,” he teased.

  “I’m in a guest room in my parents’ house. Imagine how terrible this is for me after last night,” I quipped.

  “I feel like you’re practically begging me to climb through your window later.”

  “That would be great, except that my grandma will be sleeping on a pull-out bed right under that window.” I sighed. “There’s no privacy here.”

  “Tomorrow it is then.”

  We hung up, and I pulled my notebook back out, the words flowing out effortlessly now. I felt calm and happy. This trip home had been such a whirlwind, but as long as I had a pen and some paper, the world felt right, if only temporarily.

  Around nine-thirty, the doorbell rang. I heard male voices downstairs, and within a minute I could hear my brother calling me downstairs.

  A huge smile spread across my face. Of course Sawyer was too much of a gentleman to climb through my window. That made sense. Apparently he’d used the front door instead. My heart felt happy, and I quickly ran downstairs.

  Instead of Sawyer’s eyes staring back into mine, these eyes belonged to someone else.

  “What are you doing here?” I said, not even bothering to hide my surprise.

  “I never should’ve let you go, Whit. I know that. Please, can we just talk?”

  Chapter 13

  “Wes? What are you doing here?” I asked again, not even bothering to hide my lack of amusement.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the hospital last night. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do, to show up like that. I really am sorry. About so many things . . .”

  “It wasn’t just about you showing up, Wes. You brought Marissa.”

  “I know, I’m an idiot.” He sighed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “I just wanted to be there for you. I know you have Brie, but there are so many more people who care about you. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone. I can’t imagine the heartbreak you feel, Whit. But I feel it too. I just wanted to be there.”

  I knew the entire situation with my dad affected Wes. He’d been really close with him while we were together, and as much as I hated it, I knew they’d even spen
t some time together after I left, golfing and such. Wes was an emotional guy—when he wanted to be, anyway—so I’m sure the news of my father was tough for him as well. But still, this wasn’t his place. Not anymore.

  “Wes, I can’t do this,” I said with an exhausted voice.

  “I just want ten minutes of your time,” he pled, staring back at me convincingly. “There is so much to be said, Whit. And what if I don’t get to say it? What then? You’ll just disappear again, out of my life, and I’ll forever beat myself up over everything I did wrong three years ago. It’s been three years, Whit. Three years of agonizing over everything that happened. Three years of wondering if you’ve even given me one single thought. I have beaten myself up over the entire thing, trying to figure out exactly how we fell apart. Please. I need closure. I need to get over you.”

  His words stung. He’d seemed over me when he didn’t show up to stop me from leaving, and he’d solidified that when he hooked up with one of my best friends. I couldn’t imagine he felt any real agony over that.

  “Just take a walk with me, Whit. Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking of you.”

  I stared at his face. His eyes looked puffier than usual, and I had no doubt that he’d shed tears over the thought of my father passing. I knew that would mean something to him. But those same eyes were looking at me in the way I’d begged them to years ago. I hated that. Why now? What did that mean now?

  “Wes.” I sighed, completely frustrated by his presence. I agreed with him; I probably needed the closure too. He had burned me so badly that I still ached over it. “Ten minutes.” I slipped a gray sweatshirt off the coat hook by the door, and we headed out into the cool night air.

  “Can we go down to the beach?” he asked politely.

  “Sure.” We crossed the street to the public access dock across from my house. We walked out onto the dock and sat on the edge of it like we had so many nights before. It felt like a lifetime ago, but I still remembered the feeling.

  “He made it through the surgery today,” I said softly as we stretched out our legs and let them dangle off the dock. Fortunately, the water level was low enough that our feet didn’t touch. It would’ve been way too cold for that this late at night.

  “That is such a relief,” he replied sincerely. “I had a rough time making it through work today. It was all I could think about.”

  “He’s not totally in the clear yet, but it’s a vast improvement. His heart is working on its own, so that’s the big thing. He may be able to come home in a few days.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I have a lot weighing on my mind,” Wes began then paused for a moment. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  “It’s just temporary, Wes. Then I’m back to Nashville when this all resolves.”

  “Why did you go?” he asked curiously. “Why did you leave here and go to Nashville?”

  “To be a songwriter,” I said whimsically. “It’s what I always wanted.”

  “Why didn’t I know that?” he continued. “I mean, you were always writing, and I knew you loved music and all that. But we had this thing going, and I thought it was good. We were happy. Then one day we weren’t.”

  “I didn’t expect anything to ever happen for me,” I explained. “That kind of career is usually just waiting for a call that never comes. It’s waiting for a letter that finally tells you after many months that your work isn’t good enough. It’s throwing your heart and soul into the wind just for someone, anyone, to finally respond through a generic form letter that there’s no place for you.”

  “If it was so important to you, why didn’t you say anything? We were so close, Whit. We told each other everything. Well, I thought we did anyway.”

  “It felt like it was a make-believe story, Wes. It was more like a wish, like something you’re not supposed to say out loud or it will never come true. It’s not an attainable goal for everyone, so I knew if I talked about it, it would sound stupid.”

  “To the person who cared most about you? How would that sound stupid? I was busting my ass to give you everything you wanted. I was trying so hard to be that guy for you, Whit. That guy. The one I thought you were wishing for. And then you left.”

  My throat began to feel a bit choked up. He spoke with such sincerity. I knew he’d loved me at the time. We had been friends for years first, so we’d already had a close bond. Dating took that to a whole new level, and I knew we were slowly building a life together, even though we were so young. Our decisions were about us, and we were starting to make them together—what we wanted to do, where we wanted to live. But those things you dream of at twenty years old seem so far away from what actually happens. I can’t imagine anyone’s dreams at twenty are the life they are living at thirty or forty.

  “I felt let down,” I admitted quietly. “You opened my letter—the one from the only person in the music industry who wanted to take a meeting—and that was the worst, and the best, moment of my life.” The dim lights from the dock gave off just enough light for me to see him staring right at me as I spoke. “I felt like I was going to burst with excitement. Someone had finally noticed me—that was a huge deal for me.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me about it before it happened?”

  “Because I never thought it was a possibility,” I said matter-of-factly. “No one had responded for months. I wasn’t planning for a different life, because I didn’t think a different life was possible. But then that letter made me realize maybe I had a shot. Instead of being excited for me, you were enraged.”

  “It caught me off guard, for sure,” he replied. “I was hurt. You did something amazing, but you did it without me. It was the first time I realized there was a possibility of you doing everything without me. Not because I thought you couldn’t do it, but because I never realized you would. And then I felt guilty. My anger made me doubt you could be anything without me.”

  “I just wanted a shot,” I replied quietly. “Honestly, I was terrified. It was a big thing. I wasn’t even sure about it at first. I was skeptical and nervous. But the way you reacted—blaming me for lying to you, getting mad at me for changing ‘our’ plan—it set me on fire. Before that moment I wouldn’t have considered going if you’d simply asked me to stay. I would’ve stayed for you, Wes, that’s the part that really ate at me. But your words were scathing, telling me to just go, like you didn’t care at all. It was heartbreaking. The more I thought about it that night, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you. I realized you meant more to me than anything else, so I wrote you that note and put it on your car. You never came for me.”

  The reality of it all still upset me. It was the first time I’d ever felt truly rejected by someone. To pour my heart out to them and feel vulnerable and for them to not respond was mortifying.

  “I still have the note,” he said somberly, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid a small piece of paper out. He handed it to me.

  “Why’s it torn?”

  “What, the edges? It’s been in my wallet for three years. What kind of condition did you expect it to be in?” he said lightheartedly. “I didn’t exactly feel like framing your breakup letter. I couldn’t throw it out, I know, but I couldn’t exactly look at it every day either.”

  I took the small paper from him and unfolded it. “Where’s the rest?” The note in my hands read I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I have a plane to Nashville at noon. The rest of the page was torn off.

  “What do you mean?” he questioned, staring at me with a confused expression.

  “This letter was a full page,” I replied, narrowing my eyes.

  “No, this was it,” he said apprehensively. “Two agonizing, heartbreaking lines. And then you were gone. The fact that you left it on my car window without even giving it to me in person—that hurt the most. I was up all night, wondering how to fix it. How to fix us. Trying to figure out how to keep you, whether or not you wanted me to go with you. I was a wreck. The next morning Mar
issa came by to tell me you were leaving town, and she brought me that piece of paper she’d pulled off my car.”

  I was completely confused. That wasn’t at all what happened. Where was the rest of it?

  “Wait. Marissa gave you the note?”

  “Yeah. She said she was walking to class and saw it on my car window.”

  I tried replaying that night in my mind. We fought, that I remember every detail of. Then I wrote him a long, full-page letter, pouring out my feelings for him, hoping he wouldn’t give up on me. I remembered calling Marissa and Brie to tell them everything that had happened. Brie was sympathetic, but Marissa, in her usual fashion, said no guy was worth giving up my career for and told me I was better off.

  No way. Was it possible she sabotaged the entire thing? I guess it made more sense that she moved in on him so quickly after it happened.

  “There were multiple paragraphs. I wrote a full page. I begged you to fight for me, to fight for us. I told you I would stay if that’s what you wanted. All you had to do was say the words. I told you I had a plane at noon, but if what we had was worth saving, all you needed to do was show up and I wouldn’t go. You never came.”

  He looked at me in complete disbelief.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Why was the note ripped?” he asked solemnly. He was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “Marissa,” he added quietly. “Now it makes sense why she was so ‘available’ to help me get through it.”

  “I cannot believe she would do such a thing,” I seethed, adding it all up. Of course she was there to console him and get him through it. Though that still didn’t excuse Wes for giving in to her, knowing we were close friends. There was no explanation that would console me on that.

  “You really wanted me to stop you?”

  “Honestly, I was so in love with you I would’ve done anything to be with you,” I admitted. “If you felt strongly enough about us that we could make it through rearranging our ‘plan,’ I would’ve done anything to fix us. When you didn’t show up, I took that to mean that I wasn’t worth keeping. I left and never looked back. You thought my plan was stupid, so I set out to prove you wrong.”