To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  “What?” I can hear him shuffling around, probably getting dressed. “Are you hurt? Why didn’t the school call us?”

  “No, I’m not a patient. A friend of mine is. I just—” My voice breaks and I try to swallow a sob. “I just need to come home.”

  There’s a short silence. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  I’m grateful he doesn’t ask me any other questions, but now all I have to do is wait.

  I can’t go back upstairs. What would I do? What would I say? I don’t want to see him. I can’t.

  So I sit on a bench that’s a little bit away from the front doors, nestled near some shrubs and a tree. I need to focus on something—anything else.

  I take my notebook out of my purse and open to a blank page. I stare at it until it becomes blurry. My eyes can’t focus through the welling tears. I blink rapidly and shake them away. I won’t cry. I will not.

  I lift my chin up, feeling the breeze, cool against my face, drying my unshed tears. Leaves rustle soothingly overhead.

  I turn several pages until I come to the list. I let out a hard, curt laugh when I read LOSE MY VIRGINITY at the bottom. I cross it off.

  Then I write Fall in love.

  Under that, I write Have heart broken.

  And I cross those off too.

  CHAPTER 22

  Today

  The two empty glasses clink together as I pick them up from the bar and wipe up the spilled droplets of beer and tequila until the wood surface is shiny and clean.

  “Two more of the stout.” A man with a large white mustache sets a twenty dollar bill on the counter in front of me.

  I stick the abrasive towel into the side of my waist apron and take the twenty with a smile. “Sure thing.”

  “Keep the change,” he says with a wink as his gaze drifts down my body.

  I’m not dressed scantily—though I’d probably make better tips if I was. I’m wearing a black tank top that barely shows any cleavage and black pants. That’s really the only requirement when I’m working the bar, wear black. And after almost two years here, I know how to spot a skeevy guy and one who enjoys flirting. This guy is innocent enough, if a little obvious after a few beers. The trick is to flirt back just enough to gain a rapport but not enough that they think you actually want to go home with them.

  I take the bill and set the two large glasses of dark, frothy liquid down in its place. He takes them away to a table where another man with salt and pepper hair is sitting. Most of the tables are still full of people chatting boisterously, ordering another round of drinks even though their meals have long since been eaten. A couple of coeds who look to be on their first date are playing shuffleboard in the corner and a large group of young professional guys are playing darts in the back, their ties loosened and suit shirtsleeves rolled up.

  Out the large front windows, the sky is newly black. Red lights streak past as the rest of the city lies in the background—tall buildings with their windows lit up like checkerboards. The green glow of the nearby intersection reflects on the pavement as people walk by.

  “Hey.” My coworker, Mila, leans on the bar carrying a tray of empty dishes. “The dinner rush is dying down. If you still want to get off early, this is probably your best chance.”

  “Oh yeah. You’re right.”

  She sets down the tray, brushing her long black ponytail back to reveal the thin line flower tattoo on her delicate shoulder, surrounded by filigree and strings of beads that drip down her slim arm. “Did you forget Ethan was coming back tonight or something? I thought you’d be jumping up and down to get out of here. Two weeks is a long time for your boyfriend to be gone.” She raises one dark, defined brow suggestively.

  “I didn’t forget,” I say in a bright voice.

  Two weeks is a long time, longer than his usual trips. Though we haven’t actually had sex in over a month.

  Thirty-four days.

  But who’s counting?

  “He’s gone for work almost as much as he’s here. I guess after a year together, I’m just used to it.”

  “I don’t think I could do it.” Mila shakes her head as she picks the tray back up and heads toward the kitchen.

  I am excited to see him, though. And hey, maybe tonight our dry spell will finally end. That would be nice.

  Yeah, if my sex life with Ethan were described in one word, that would be it.

  Nice.

  Terry, the owner, bumbles out of the back a few minutes later wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt that is probably old enough to have grandchildren. His silvery-blond hair is long but thinning on top. Tonight, it’s secured in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  He looks at me with his light gray eyes as I approach.

  “It’s about nine and the dinner rush is over, so do you think I’d be able to leave early tonight like we discussed last week?”

  “What now?”

  “Remember, my boyfriend is coming home from his trip tonight?”

  “Oh. Right, right.” He looks around the dining room and at the people playing games near the stage in the back. If it were karaoke or open mic night, there’s no way I’d be out the door before midnight. Terry sighs and adjusts the little glasses on his short nose. “Better hurry. If the bar starts picking up like it usually does around ten, you’ll never get out.”

  I hurry through my cleaning and refilling the salt and pepper shakers. Ethan texts me that he’s landed at O’Hare at nine-thirty, and by nine forty-five, several new patrons have sat around the bar. Seeing my imminent panic, Terry quickly settles my tips before disappearing back into his office.

  Mila leans over the counter. “How’d you do?”

  I count the bills twice. Not bad for a Thursday night. Actually, pretty good. Hopefully this weekend will be even better now that the weather is warming up, school is letting out, and summer is almost upon us.

  I let out a breath. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to pay for classes this term without picking up extra shifts.”

  “I thought moving in with Ethan was making paying for school easier. You’re still doing the online courses, right?”

  “Yes, it has helped.” I don’t tell her that finances were the biggest factor in my decision to move in with Ethan so quickly. “But I was hoping to be able to take more classes at a time to finish sooner.”

  She smiles wide just as a few more people walk through the door. “Save yourself.”

  * * *

  Ethan walks through the front door of our apartment only a few minutes after me.

  “Hi, babe,” he says, an easy smile lighting up his face as he rolls his suitcase in behind him. He’s wearing a navy sweater, the collar of his white undershirt showing just enough to be in bright contrast to his tan skin. His thick, blond hair has grown just enough these last two weeks that the ends are starting to curl. He’ll probably want to get it cut immediately.

  “Hey, E.” I go to him and wrap my arms around his neck.

  He hugs me with his free arm. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. Do you want to hang out? Watch a movie or someth—”

  “I’d love to, but I’m all gross from the plane and exhausted from traveling. I’m just going to go take a shower and go to bed.”

  He kisses me on the cheek and I smile up at him. “Yeah, of course.”

  He disappears into the bedroom. I stand in the living room for a few minutes. Our window is small and the view consists of a white concrete building, but I guess it goes with the white walls and beige sofa.

  But even though I can’t see the city, when I close my eyes, I can hear it. Cars on the street, a whistle, a horn in the distance, and if I concentrate I know I’ll be able to hear the ‘L’ train go by soon. All of these things that had seemed new and exciting when I’d moved to Chicago two years ago are now so familiar.

  That old feeling creeps up again. The wanting more, something different, a new adventure.

  There’s nothing to do, so I turn off the lights and go
to our room to get ready for bed. The sound of running water rattles in the walls as I change into my sleep tank and shorts and slide under the cream-colored covers. I sit and wait for the water to shut off and then Ethan comes out from the bathroom, all clean and naked.

  I perk up, letting the sheet fall to reveal my white tank top, which is almost see-through. I think my boobs look pretty nice and perky in it, but he’s already turned around, fishing a pair of athletic shorts out of his drawer so I only have a view of his pale backside.

  “You can forget the shorts...if you want.” I try to lower my voice so it comes out all sexy, but it sounds more like I have a dry throat.

  He glances over his shoulder as he steps into his shorts. He gives me a lopsided grin as his eyes briefly drop to my breasts. “I have to go into the office early tomorrow. I really just need to go to sleep, babe.” He turns off the light and climbs in next to me. “But I promise we’ll do something this weekend, okay?”

  I nod but I’m not sure if he can see it in the dark. He gives me a quick kiss then rolls over to his side of the bed.

  * * *

  The room is dark. Still. Everything is quiet except for the low, deep breaths coming from an otherwise motionless Ethan beside me.

  He’s been asleep for hours.

  I’m not surprised to still be awake. I’m usually just getting home from the bar around now. But this is more than sleeplessness. A feeling of unease hangs over me. It’s heavy enough to be undeniable, but too thick for me to understand it. I’m exhausted and my mind is foggy, and my body is restless, and the longer I lay here, the more uncomfortable I become.

  I finally slip out of bed, grab my phone, and tiptoe to the living room.

  I shouldn’t do it.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to do it.

  Months.

  Though, if I’m honest, I think about doing it almost every day.

  I curl up on the couch under a blanket and take out my phone. I pull the blanket up, huddling under it as my screen lights up and I type in the search bar. It pops up immediately.

  The video.

  It’s titled Wicked Road’s Colin Wolfe sings with Mystery Girl.

  It went viral only a few weeks after it all ended. Interest in the video combined with Logan’s overdose, near death, and harrowing recovery equaled internet gold. The video exploded. The band exploded.

  I click on the video, the screen shaking slightly as it starts to play.

  It starts with Colin sitting on the little stage with his guitar. The air around him is hazy, the lights bright on his face. He’s talking to the crowd but the noise from the audience around the person recording is too loud to hear what he’s saying. But I know what he’s saying.

  And then I walk out. In that stupid bright red jumpsuit.

  The voices in the crowd raise and then they quiet as the music starts. Colin strums the guitar, his eyes locked on me as he starts to sing the words.

  The video quality isn’t the best and it was shot from the side of the room so that Colin’s face is in full view but only the back of my head is visible, except for a few glances of my profile. Hence why I have remained Mystery Girl.

  It was the secret everyone wanted to uncover. It was the topic of more than one entertainment news show segment. There were rumors, conspiracies. But the guys never revealed my identity. They refuse to answer questions about the Mystery Girl. I even saw a video of Colin storming out of an interview when the interviewer asked about me.

  That was before I banned myself from following them. From watching them. From listening to them. From having my heart torn apart over and over every time I read his name or saw his face or heard him sing.

  It hasn’t been too hard. I rarely listen to the radio and if I do, I keep it on top forty pop stations. If I’m with Ethan, we listen to country.

  So I don’t let myself have anything to do with them.

  Except for nights like this.

  I watch as Colin sings and then I join in. My voice in the video is quiet at first. Then it gets higher as we harmonize through the chorus. Our voices complement each other well, one moment blending together and the next standing apart, letting each one shine. Perfect.

  That summer feels like a lifetime ago, but also like it was yesterday. Sometimes I think it was a dream, but when I watch this video, I know it was real.

  For me, anyway, it was real.

  The song ends, and this is where I always stop the video. I never let myself watch the next part.

  But I don’t turn it off tonight.

  I watch as Colin reaches for me, a quirk of a smile on his lips as he leans in and kisses me. I can almost remember how his lips felt.

  The crowd goes crazy with hoots and screams and unintelligible yelling. But I just stare at Colin, mesmerized by how tightly his eyes are closed when his face is pressed to mine, and then by the big, gorgeous smile that brightens his face afterward.

  It certainly looks like it was real for him, but I know his feelings were never as strong as mine were. Not after he pushed me away so quickly, so easily, so completely.

  I blink and tears fall down my cheeks unexpectedly.

  And this is why I don’t let myself watch it. The hurt. The pain is blunt and brutal, and burning and sharp at the same time. It feels like no time has passed. Just as fresh as that night almost two years ago. I turn it off.

  Ethan hasn’t moved when I climb back into bed. I close my eyes but I can’t get the image of that kiss out of my head. The memory of how dizzy and alive I felt in that moment is overwhelming and devastating.

  I listen to Ethan’s restful sounds as I lie awake. He worked really hard when we first met to get my attention. I think he asked me out four times before I agreed. He made me feel treasured and...happy. He was the first person to make me forget about Colin.

  At least for a while.

  Ethan is stable. Comfortable. Safe. And maybe that was exactly what I needed a year ago. But I don’t think it’s what I want anymore.

  With this realization, the dark cloud of unease brewing overhead finally breaks.

  * * *

  “You’re up early,” Ethan says as he walks into the kitchen.

  “I didn’t get much sleep.” I stare down at the mug between my hands, half-filled with lukewarm coffee.

  “Sorry, babe.” Ethan moves around the kitchen in his khaki-colored slacks and a light blue dress shirt, starting the coffeemaker and grabbing a bright green apple off the counter.

  He takes a bite of the apple and reads the news on his phone as coffee starts to drip into his thermos. It’s just another early morning for him. He’s completely unburdened.

  “This isn’t working for me anymore.”

  He looks up from his phone in mid-bite. “What was that? Do you need fresh coffee?”

  “No. I was talking about us. We aren’t working. I think we should break up.”

  He sets down the apple, his mouth open for a second before he regains composure.

  “I know we haven’t gotten to spend much time together lately, and I’m sorry about that. Work should slow down in a few weeks—maybe we can take some time off together?” He smiles at his suggestion and looks at his watch. “Let’s talk about it tonight, yeah?”

  “I’m working tonight, and there’s nothing to talk about. I want to break up.”

  “Grace, I’m about to be running late for work. We’ll discuss this when I have more time later, okay?” He nods enthusiastically as he grabs his thermos and leaves out the door.

  I sit, staring at the closed door for a while. I can’t decide if he’s just in complete denial, doesn’t believe me, or didn’t actually hear a word I said.

  Maybe after a year of dating I do owe him a long conversation, but it’s not going to change my mind. The problem isn’t how much we’re apart—the problem is when we’re together. The problem is just the memory of my first kiss with Colin stirs more emotion and passion in me than the entirety of the last year with Ethan
.

  I can’t stay.

  I spend the next few hours packing up my things and deciding what I’ll leave behind, considering I only have two suitcases and a couple boxes I found in the closet. Luckily, I don’t have many personal items and almost everything in the apartment is Ethan’s, since it was his place when I moved in six months ago. Moving in together so quickly was probably a mistake, but at the time I was convinced it made the most sense.

  When I’m done, I leave my key on the counter and, after taking one last look around, lock the door behind me.

  * * *

  Leaving wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. The scariest part of all this is the fact that I now have no place to live, very little money, and no idea what I’m going to do next.

  I sit in my car after loading it with the remaining contents of my life, trying to decide where to go. I end up just driving around for a while and thinking. I haven’t driven much since moving to the city and it’s sort of relaxing.

  My sister, Court, gave me her Jeep Wrangler last year. It’s old—the battery is on its last leg, the white paint is chipped, and there’s a dent in the hood. It was my older brother Charlie’s before her. But it’s small and easy to maneuver around and park in tight spaces, perfect for me—not so much for a growing family. It would also probably be uncomfortable to sleep in, but that would be a last resort. I could go to a hotel for a few days but most of the money I have saved up I need to pay for school.

  I could go home. I know I can always go home, but...

  I park around the back of the bar. It’s only just opened, but the lunch crowd will be showing up soon.

  Mila greets me as soon as I enter and immediately knows something is up. I don’t know if it’s my overall grumpy demeanor or the fact that I’m at work when I’m not scheduled to be here.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, tilting her head.

  I lean in and whisper, “I broke up with Ethan.”

  “Really? I thought things were good between you two.”

  “I mean, sure. Things were fine. Good even, for the most part. But I want more than good. I want—” Colin’s face flashes through my mind. His fingers interlaced with mine, his arms holding me close, his lips soft on my skin. His smile. The stomach-flipping butterflies that stirred from just one look. The heart-ripping misery I felt when it ended. “I don’t know what I want. But Ethan’s just not it.”