All She Wanted (2) (25 page)

Briggs

I
will not be a kill joy. I will not be a kill joy. I will not be a kill joy.

The cabin was already booming with life
by the time we entered. We still had about three hours before sunset. Luckily
Evan and Thomas had already gone out ahead and set up the paintball course.
Everyone had chipped in, so the amount of ammo, guns and barricades we had at
our disposal was obscene.

Chief was manning the grill, as the
food and drinks I had purchased the day before seemed to be making their way
through the crew. While Kai was bombarded with questions about his skydiving
experience, I made my way to a back bedroom and pulled out my phone. I had to
connect with Charlie before this weekend could continue.

No
signal? You have got to be kidding me!

“Is my life a joke?” I threw my phone
on the bed.

“I have wondered that same thing about
your life…many times,” Evan said, smiling as he walked by in search of the
restroom.

“Very funny,” I mused.

He laughed as I heard a door close down
the hallway.

This was going to be one very long
twenty-four hours without mending what had happened earlier.
How could I have been so stupid? Of course
she was hurt! I was a millimeter away from kissing her…and then I suddenly
shifted gears and put her on the ground like I couldn’t decide what I wanted!

But that was the cruelest joke of all,
there was no question as to what
I wanted
.

I had to figure this
out,
I had to figure out how to have Charlie
without
having
her
.

I couldn’t lose her.

Charlie

The
tiny green pills were scattered on the table beside mama’s bed. I knew never to
swallow one, but not because anyone had told me. Somehow, I just knew. The
morning had been cold—really cold, and I could feel the wind coming in from
under the door and through the gaps in the windowpane. I shivered.

Mama
had been asleep for a long time. Though my fingers ached from the bitter cold,
I picked up each pill I could find, and put them back inside the brown plastic
bottle. I stared at her body, wishing I could be closer to her. Jenny had given
me a hug before; she was full of hugging and kissing, even though I knew there
was a lot of sadness inside her home, too.

I
wanted my mama to hug me and kiss me like that, to make me feel warm, to make
me feel safe. I shook her body lightly with my hand. There was no response. Her
breathing was quiet and soft like it always was when she slept, so I carefully
climbed onto her mattress and pulled her quilt up to cover me too. Little by
little I inched my body closer to hers till my front was facing her back. I
made no sound.

I
closed my eyes, secretly wishing I could crawl to the other side of her and lay
under her arm. I wanted to be held that way—just once, but that was too great a
risk. If I had learned anything, it was to be thankful for any moment of good.
And right now, lying next to my mama, life was good.
 

**********

I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes as
they roamed my dark bedroom. I lifted my phone, checking the clock. It was 4:49
a.m. I didn’t want to go back to sleep, that dream had been much too
real—probably because it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, a vivid one. I could
recall colors, smells, and textures like it had happened only yesterday. That
routine of mine I had executed countless times when mama had been too drugged
to know I was even present at all. I had been so desperate for touch, so
desperate for comfort and love, but she never knew my needs.

She never knew me.

She
was severely depressed, mentally unstable—you can’t blame her for that.

I threw the blankets off my legs, too
exhausted for that internal debate at the moment.
Why won’t these memories just vanish already?
It was the question I
had asked for years while in my therapist’s office. Hadn’t I done my work?
Hadn’t I spent the time? What could possibly be left to rehash? My mama was
dead, yet somewhere inside me, the lost, unwanted little girl, just couldn’t
let her go.

I put on a long-sleeved shirt, and
slipped on my shoes before making my way through the house to the porch swing.
I knew playing the piano at this hour would wake my mother, so I opted for the
next best thing: Watching the sunrise.

My dad was already at the station. He
started every Monday with an early circuit-training workout.

I hadn’t asked him too many questions
about the big bachelor weekend last night when he came home, but he did say
that Briggs and Jack had thrown quite the party. That little factoid had
answered the question that had gnawed at me all weekend:
What had Briggs thought about our awkward moment in the field on
Saturday?

I had been miserable during the last
thirty-six hours, and shamefully, I had half-hoped he would have felt the same
way, that maybe I wasn’t alone in my feelings. But it wasn’t only my dad who
had confirmed that my wishful thinking had been in vain, Briggs had as well, in
his own words. I sighed, picking up my phone to stare at the text again—the one
I had already committed to memory.

The
hottie who lives above your garage:
I’m
sorry it’s so late, but I didn’t have coverage up at the cabin. I know things
feel weird with us right now, and I am completely to blame for that. I want to
be your friend, Charlie. I’m hoping I haven’t screwed that up…can you forgive
me for being a moron?

And there it was in black and
white—written proof.

I
want to be your friend, Charlie.

Wasn’t it Briggs who had joked that
texting was like writing under oath? I set the phone down, mentally berating
myself again. True to his character, he was trying to protect me, let me down
easy, point the finger of blame at himself instead of at me. But I was the one
seeing things that weren’t really there.

My attraction to him had muddied my
vision of reality.

 
It was me who had hoped for something more, me
who had acted like an idiot by misreading his kindness toward me over and over
again. This particular life lesson seemed to be stuck on repeat, and I was
definitely ready for God to choose another.
Anything
else
would be fine.

 
I pushed the swing silently, the toe of my
shoe straining to make contact with the deck as I watched the beginning of the
sunrise.

The last six-weeks had stretched me,
challenged me, and forced me to think in ways I never had before. I was no
longer the angry girl who needed to feel justified—or the broken girl who had
built her life on quicksand. Instead, I was a girl who had finally let
herself
be known.

And Briggs had been the one to crack
me.

I picked up my phone again as the sun
broke out into a brilliant display of orange and red.

I would be thankful for this moment of
good.

Briggs

After a long night of cleanup at the
cabin, I finally made it back to my apartment just after midnight. I was
completely exhausted, but my desperation to reach out to Charlie took
precedence. I told myself she most likely wouldn’t see it till the morning, but
it hadn’t stopped me from checking my phone every other minute while I unpacked
my truck.

After a much needed shower, my body had
finally succumbed to the pull of sleep.

I woke up with a start, my bedroom
still dark except for the grayish-blue hue coming through my window. It was
nearly sunrise. I picked up my phone and checked for a message from Charlie: Nothing.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees as I
rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

I sighed, my mind fully engaged despite
the early hour. There would be no use in trying to go back to sleep now.
 

I threw on a t-shirt and jeans, and
headed out the front door. After jogging down three flights of stairs, I
started to walk. The spring air was warm, bringing with it temperatures in the
mid to high eighties at the peak of the afternoon. A reddish-orange hue had
slowly crept up on the horizon as I followed the path to the fountain. The
fountain, which was nothing more than a glorified piece of twisted metal (a
modern art project crafted by local university students) had been dropped off
in the center of the dog park I lived near. Consequently, it was the only place
that served for quiet meditation within the vicinity.

I sat on a bench, facing east. There
was not another soul in sight. The radiant glow of the sun caused the
fountain’s water to shimmer as it flowed over the obtuse angles. I clasped my
hands together loosely, hunching over.

Though I had spent the better part of
two years working through the aftermath of my past, learning how to cope
without my usual vices, the last six-weeks had thrown me on a new course
entirely. It was like running in the dark…with vertigo.

I hadn’t been expecting it. I hadn’t
been looking for it. I hadn’t been waiting for it.

Yet it came and found me anyway—or
rather love had, breaking me, softening me, molding me. I stared into my hands,
considering
the callouses
that had only recently scabbed
over the tender skin beneath them. Yet, unlike my hands, which were familiar
with the splitting, cracking, bleeding and the eventual re-healing process, my
heart was not.

I took a deep breath, hesitating.
Though I believed in prayer, I knew no fancy words. I wasn’t a professional at speaking
to God, and I certainly didn’t pretend to be. I didn’t know if there was a
right or wrong way, but I did know that having something to believe in was a
thousand times better than going through life with only myself to depend on.

I closed my eyes, listening to the wind
as it blew through the trees. Birds chirped and sang in the branches overhead,
and in that moment I felt peace. I didn’t speak aloud; instead, I spoke with
God as if He were an extension of my soul.

Before I opened my eyes, my phone
buzzed in my pocket.

Miss
Strawberry Shortcake:
Though
I usually relish in calling you a moron, this time, that label does not fit the
crime. I’m sorry, too. P.S. You’ll always have a friend in me.

I looked up to the skyline.

“Thank You.”

Charlie

“Sugar, why are you pacing?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. I
was
pacing. I closed my eyes and took a
deep breath. Briggs would be here any minute to pick me up for the rehearsal
dinner at the Sales Estate. It had been six long days since I’d seen the man.
Between work, practice, wedding escapes with Tori, and Cody cashing in on his
trip to Six Flags, the week had been full.

 
“Oh, I just…needed to walk a bit. I’m playing
my piece tonight at rehearsal, just have some nervous energy I guess,” I said,
lying through my teeth.

He eyed me suspiciously.

These nerves had nothing to do with
piano.

“Well, you’ll do great, as always. Your
mom and I are looking forward to hearing it tomorrow at the ceremony.”

I smiled. Never had they lacked in
their support for me, especially when it came to my piano. They had willingly
paid for all my
spendy
tutors, sat in hard bleachers
at my school talent-shows, and had arrived early to every boring recital I
played in, and they had never complained. Without them, I would have probably
stopped at Chopsticks when I was six.

There was a knock at the door.

He’s
here.

My dad went to the door while I raced
back upstairs, remembering the purse I had traded out to go with my dress
earlier.

As I approached the entryway where they
stood, I heard just the tail end of their quiet exchange.

“…I gave you my word, sir. Nothing’s
changed,” Briggs said.

My dad’s hand rested on Briggs shoulder
lightly as I heard him say, “You’re a good man, Briggs.”

Briggs nodded to him once, and then
abruptly stepped away from him when he saw me enter. Though I didn’t have any
context for their words, I didn’t need it. Their lack of eye contact, along
with the sudden uncomfortable silence, filled in the gaps for me. I didn’t have
to be Nancy Drew to deduce that their
pow
-wow was
meant to be private. I felt a rush of heat creep up my neck, warming my cheeks
with embarrassment.

Maybe
it wasn’t about me…

My dad flung the door open as Briggs
gently touched my back to lead me out. He said nothing to me.

Not. One. Word.

Urgh…was
awkwardness our new normal?

“Bye, Dad,” I said calling over my
shoulder.

“Bye, sugar.”

Briggs opened my door, making eye
contact with me for the first time. When he did, my knees practically gave out.
I was grateful for the seat directly behind me. I took a deep breath, reminding
myself of my new
Friendship Creed
.

When he got into the truck he seemed to
relax a little, smiling at me briefly before starting the engine.

“You look great tonight, Charlie,” he
said, softly. “I’m sorry about that back there…we just had to finish up a
conversation from earlier.”

I nodded, hoping again that it had
nothing to do with me.

Stop
being so narcissistic!

“No, that’s fine, I understand,” I
said, staring at his hand on his lap.

How
easy it would be to reach over and…

“I’ve been looking forward to this all
week. Texting is fine, but it’s good to see you,” he said. I knew what he
meant, and I agreed wholeheartedly. It was easy to reconcile over text, but the
true test was in seeing each other face to face for the first time after the
awkwardness.

Like
the running-into-his-arms-begging-to-be-kissed kind of awkwardness.

I smiled, “I’ve been looking forward to
it, too.”

He reached over to pat my knee before
bringing his hand back over to his own again. A tiny spasm rippled in the base
of my belly.

Everything
is going to be fine.

We
can be friends, normal friends.