by Willow Aster
“I’ll do my best,” I mutter.
Michael comes in a few minutes later, looking rough. His eyes have shadows around them. His hair is haphazard, and he doesn’t usually do the messy look. He sits beside me on the bed.
I put my arm around him. A sideways hug. The hug of friends … cautious friends.
He lets out a ragged sigh.
“How did you make it here so quickly?”
“I was in Portland when I called this morning. Stayed with Aunt Patricia the last couple of days. Hopped in the car as soon as I got off the phone and drove straight through.”
He still hasn’t looked at me. He’s wiped out and staring dejectedly into space.
“I’m losing you. That’s what’s happening here, right?” With that, he turns and looks at me, his eyes bleak.
“Michael…”
“I need to know. I want to spend my life with you. I thought I could wait as long as it took and you’d come around. I thought I’d get back tonight and you’d be so happy to see me, you’d run down the stairs when you heard my voice…” He shakes his head. “It’s not happening, is it? You’re never going to…”
My eyes fill. All the aggravation I’ve had with him over the past week is gone.
“I wish I could love you like I should, Michael. You deserve so much more than what I’ve given you,” I finally admit.
“What am I missing here?”
“Nothing. You are … exceptional. Truly. I just don’t feel it. I care about you so much.”
“There has never been any doubt in my mind about my love for you.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“I don’t want you to be sorry!” He says loudly, causing me to jump. “Don’t look at me like that, Sparrow,” his voice is quiet again. “I know you’re not trying to hurt me … but don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t pity you … I am sorry, though.” A tear falls off the tip of my nose and tickles. I wipe my face and lay my head on his shoulder.
He stands abruptly and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Please—don’t go like this. I have to know you’re okay. Michael, look at me.”
He walks out of the room and out of my life.
***
The next few weeks are filled with all the hustle and bustle of leaving. I split my time between family and friends, going to favorite restaurants and beaches that I will miss when I’m far from home. Michael doesn’t call or come by, but I do see him at church … from a distance. I try to catch his eye and smile, but he seems to have an eye meter that tells him the exact distance to look just close enough, but never really land on me. It’s unsettling. I’m used to him always finding my eye across the room and sharing a smile over something that strikes us funny. I am going to miss him more than I can even comprehend.
I’m trying to catch a minute with Michael the day before I leave. Various giggling girls surround him. Word traveled quickly that we’d broken up. I’m sure the new girlfriend position will be filled in no time. An elderly lady walks up and gives me a goodbye hug.
“I will be praying for your journey,” she says.
“Thank you so much, Beverly,” I smile.
“Be blessed out there. And hurry home to Michael. God has big plans for the two of you.”
I bite my lip and resist telling her we’ve broken up before I walk away. I know I can’t compete with what she thinks God has in store for us.
I see an opening with Michael and move toward him. He sees me coming and for a moment, I think he’s going to bolt, but he doesn’t. He smiles faintly and I want to kick myself for breaking his heart. Just before I reach him, Josie Sanders glides in front of him. He looks over her shoulder at me and I stop. Josie doesn’t miss a beat. I wait a few minutes longer and then give him a shy wave before leaving. He smiles and waves back and my heart lifts just a little. I think we might be all right. In time.
New York is exactly what I hoped it would be. It’s hectic and energetic. Fun things to do are available at all hours of the day or night—not that Tessa and I have fully taken advantage of that yet, but still—we absolutely love it.
We’ve finally gotten settled into our apartment. It’s small, but cozy, and we’ve put our hearts into making it as cute as possible. I’m crazy about my room: a pink tufted headboard that Tessa and I made, with white, pink and red linens. There are Tiffany blue touches added throughout the room. Tessa’s room is the complete opposite: bold with a black tufted headboard and colorful fabrics swathed from ceiling to the floor around her bed.
Our cozy living room just fits a couch, bookshelf and TV. The red leather couch was our first big purchase. We’re going to have a serious arm wrestling contest when we move out to see who inherits it. Our kitchen is the smallest kitchen I’ve ever seen. It’s nearly impossible for us to be in there at the same time. I may or may not occasionally crawl on the counter to get past Tessa when she’s not moving as quickly as I’d like. Okay, I totally do, but I’m going to have to stop. I’ve hit my head one too many times on the cabinet above the counter.
I love that we’re living on our own, completely across the country from everything familiar, except each other. It’s a bit surreal to have moments of feeling like actual adults. The fact that we keep telling each other we’re grown-ups might mean we’re not quite there, but it sure is feeling that way more and more. This time would be perfect if it weren’t for all the drama before I left.
I really miss Michael—his friendship most of all. I guess maybe we should have only ever been friends. I know this now, but that’s the kind of thing you can only know after it’s too late. School has been the best distraction. I’m knee-deep in homework at all times. It would have been difficult to have a solid relationship with him when I’m so focused on my studies.
Well, that’s not entirely true. It would be hard to have room for him in my brain when the space is so filled with Ian. Since Ian looked through me and took off on his motorcycle, he has preoccupied almost every single waking and sleeping moment. I’m actually really disappointed with myself and profoundly guilty, too, when I think of how I’ve hurt Michael.
Still, I can’t get Ian out of my mind.
I’ve played and replayed every single part of that day and cannot figure out what happened. Why did he go so cold on me? How could we seemingly have such an intense spark and then … nothing? I have not heard a single word from him.
It hit me in mid-replay one night—I don’t think mention was ever made about me coming to New York. My insides clench and churn with this realization. I can’t see how that wouldn’t have come up, except that when I was in the thick of my rosy haze around him, I didn’t think of anything or anyone except him and that very moment we were living in.
It’s for the best. Things ended on such a weird note anyway. It’s not like he’s been calling my parents’ house night and day looking for me or anything. What I thought was special was probably just what he does with every girl he goes out with. I saw how every female … and male, for that matter, checks him out. He has probably not given me a second thought.
I try to bury myself in my books and writing projects. A really cute guy in my Sociology class asks me out, and I turn him down. I haven’t done a very good job making friends. I have Tessa and am otherwise on autopilot. After all, I hurt Michael bad enough. There’s not much room in my head or heart right now to involve another single person.
So, when my parents call the week after Thanksgiving to tell me we’re taking an impromptu ski trip over Christmas break and that the Roberts and Ian will be part of the group going, I choke and snap out of cruise control. I invite Tessa, but she has plans with her family.
By that evening, I have an email with my flight details. We’re all meeting in Colorado and scheduled to ski in Breckenridge for an entire week. I think I might be in shock. I’m elated that I’ll see Ian again and yet ticked that I haven’t heard anything from him in all these months. Poor
Tessa gets an ear full of my rantings on the whole subject. God bless her, she lets me go on and on. Until she realizes I don’t have cute ski clothes.
“What are you going to wear on the slopes?”
“I don’t know.” I huff. “I haven’t ever even skied. How would I know what I’m wearing?”
“Well, we need to figure it out.” She grins wickedly. “You have to show Ian what he’s missing!”
“Can you help me?” I moan. “I don’t even have a coat that will work. Aaaaagggh. Why did my parents agree to this?”
“Well, they probably don’t know that you’ve obsessed over Ian since the day you met him. Otherwise, I’m sure they wouldn’t be going. Have they given up their hopes for Michael?”
“I’m not sure they’ll ever give up on the thought of me and Michael. Every time I talk to them, they tell me how awful he looks. He goes over there and talks about how much he misses me.”
Tessa lifts both hands and shakes them at me. “You haven’t died! He could still be your friend, for crying out loud.”
I snort. “I love it when you get all passionate. And I wish we could be friends … maybe eventually.”
“This trip will be fun. Don’t even think about Ian for now. Think about how great you’re going to be on the slopes.”
“Pft, yeah. You know I’m a monumental klutz. How am I going to survive on skis?”
“You’re a good skater. Maybe you’ll be a good skier too,” Tessa says.
“Since when did you become Miss Pep Talk of the Century?” I grumble.
“Since you needed a good shaking.” She leans over and gives my shoulders a soft nudge. “Seriously, Ro. You’ve barely left this apartment except to go to school. I hope this trip will shake you out of the funk you’ve been in.”
“I haven’t been in a funk! I love it here. It’s been so great to be on our own…”
“You haven’t gone on a single date. Maybe this is just what you need. You’ll see Ian and either know why you’re not meant to be with him, OR you’ll make sure you keep him this time.”
I glare at her. “I didn’t know you were thinking all this. Why would I go on a date when I’m thinking about someone else … and I’ve already broken one heart? I don’t like to hurt people!”
“I know you don’t, but we’re in college, far from home … you’re supposed to be living dangerously. I’m supposed to be living dangerously.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, ‘Little Miss Dangerous’. I’m not stopping you. Just help me find something to wear, okay? And then you can go live it up with all your wild and crazy dangerousness!”
“Gladly,” Tessa smirks. She starts tapping away on her laptop and pulls up several ski outfit choices. My ire softens somewhat because I’m impressed that she found something so quickly. She’s a whiz on the googling. Tessa Googlelot might have to be her new nickname. She clears her throat and I snap out of my Googleshedaisy train of thought. One outfit is electric blue and the other is a vibrant pink. She turns toward me and gets an inch from my face. If she weren’t so close, I’d be able to clearly see that her eyebrows are working overtime, but as it is, they’re a big blur with all their wiggling.
I can’t help but laugh. “These are both great, but so, ‘Hello, I’m a snow bunny.’ And they’re really … colorful. And show … surprisingly much for covering every inch of skin.”
“He needs to be able to see you coming,” she emphasizes.
“Well, he certainly wouldn’t be able to miss me in that one.” I point to the blue outfit. It definitely would stand out in the snow. Or anywhere, for that matter. It’s actually pretty fabulous. I might need to do a thousand sit-ups and squats every night before trying to go out in the Cat Woman-esque get-up.
“They have the whole outfit in that store on 43rd,” Tessa says. “We could run over there right now for you to try it on. You know, get out of the house for a while, and see what it’s like out there in that big old city we came ALL THIS WAY TO LIVE IN.”
“No need to get huffy,” I grin and jump up. “Come on, let’s go.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Tessa is right. Getting out in the brisk air feels great. I can’t believe how I’ve been hunkered down in my room and books the last few months. I’m all about being a good student, but maybe I’ve taken it a little too far. I feel the rank cloud shedding off of me, like an oily layer floating to the top of the surface.
The city is beautiful as we walk along the crowded streets. The trees are already lit with Christmas lights. I can’t believe I haven’t even noticed until now. Maybe the breakup and move across the country affected me more than I realized.
“Earth to Sparrow.” Tessa is snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Ro? You with me? I’ve asked you the same question three times.”
“Oh, sorry … what?” I turn and see the concern in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
“Yeah,” I bump her shoulder with mine. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a downer the last couple of months. I can’t believe how patient you’ve been with me.”
“I know you were crazy about Michael. Not as a boyfriend, necessarily, but he was one of your best friends. And Ian…” she shakes her head. “He really did a number on you. I’m kinda mad at him right now.”
“Ugh. I know. I am, too. But I can’t be, he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m more mad at myself for how much I felt so soon … and … how excited I am to see him again in a few weeks.” My whole face crinkles into one big crease. “I’m ashamed to even admit that out loud. I need to just be cold with him and not give him the time of day.”
“But really, why would you? Like you said, he didn’t really do anything wrong and maybe he just hasn’t been able to find you,” she finishes hopefully.
I stare her down. “We both know he could have found me if he wanted.
She sighs. “Just wait and hear what he has to say.”
“Yeah, if he bothers to talk to me at all. We didn’t leave on the finest note.”
“Here we are!” Tessa sings and pulls my arm into the store.
Oh, so many choices. So little time. Tessa’s also right about the blue get-up. There will be no denying I’m in the vicinity when I put it on. Ian Sterling won’t know what hit him.
- 6 -
A couple weeks later, I’m packing all my cute new clothes into a suitcase, along with a few books I’ve added, just in case I’m a disaster on the slopes. Oh wait, I’ve packed a half dozen books. That’s going to be heavy. What can I say? I’m a fast reader. It would be so sad to get there and run out of reading material. This is a vacation after all.
After my shopping trip with Tessa, I confess something might have been birthed in me. I finally get what all the fuss is about with shopping. Tessa could not be happier about this new transition. I can’t get too addicted to it, until I have more money under my belt, but it’s really fun to finally spend the money I’ve been saving forever on clothes that I actually really like. I would never say this out loud, but it’s possible that I will be completely fine with just looking good on this trip. And reading. If I have it my way, I will look good while reading. You didn’t hear it here. But really, who needs skiing when I have all these fabulous clothing choices to cover?
Oh gross. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
But back to the fashion…
My cable knit sweater Uggs are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn in my entire life. I didn’t get the hype about Uggs either, until I tried on a pair. I don’t ever want to take them off, so naturally, I’m wearing them, along with a short cream sweater dress, when I get on the airplane and nervously fly to Denver.
Okay. I should be completely honest. I’ve looked for any kind of diversion, including fashion, to get my mind off of the fact that I’m terrified of breaking a leg. Specifically, I’m terrified of breaking a leg in front of Ian. I have never even had a desire to ski. It’s not come close to crossing my mind since I can trip falling UP the stairs
. I can trip over nothing. My own two feet are fully capable of betraying me without any warning. They’re vicious, really.
These thoughts are warring in my brain as I look out the window and gaze into the cotton puff clouds. I guess it’s better than obsessing over seeing Ian again. I won’t deny that I’ve battled pushing him out of my brain, deciding to not overthink anything with him. I will just see what he has to say, if anything, when I see him. Consequently, all I’ve thought about for days are all the ways I can stay OFF the slopes. I have an arsenal of reasons/ excuses to pull out, should anyone corner me about why I’m avoiding my skis.
These theories are all shot to dust during the car ride with my parents to the resort. After many hugs and kisses are passed around, they start right in.
“We’re scheduled to have a skiing lesson at 8 A.M.,” Charlie informs me.
“About that…” I start.
“Your mom and I will join you. You’ll do fine, Rosie.”
“You know how to ski, you don’t need to wait up for me. Take advantage of all this,” I wave my hand, wildly pointing at the snow-covered mountains. It doesn’t work.
“No, I could use a refresher course,” my dad says.
“Me too. How long has it been since we’ve done this?” Charlie pipes in.
This leads to a ten-minute trip down memory lane. The last time they skied was when they spent their anniversary in Lake Tahoe. I tune out for a minute, admiring the beautiful sunset, when I hear Laila’s name. My ears perk up and I rejoin the conversation.
“Have you seen Jeff and Laila yet? Is everyone already here?”
“We saw them briefly as we were leaving to get you. There’s quite a group here.”
“Really? How many?” I want details.
“Oh, I’d say at least fifteen, maybe twenty…” My mom looks back at me and smiles. “Ian asked about you. He wondered if you were coming … seemed surprised you weren’t already with us.”
“Hmmm.” I say with all the nonchalance I can muster. Meanwhile, my insides are doing trampoline circus tricks.