Rebel Rockstar (31 page)

I
know
I’m not supposed to be listening, but I can’t help it.

I lean my head against the door, listening to every word in horror and surprise. But mostly horror. I jump back from the door as soon as I hear the man – I think his name was Thomas, but I wasn’t really paying attention to him so I’m not sure – leave.

I know River is still walking around in the kitchen somewhere, probably clearing his head as he gets ready to leave.

He is going to leave, I just know it.

He has to.

I heard what the man said. If I were River, I’d be leaving too. I don’t want River to leave, but… He has to. And deep down, I think he always was going to.

Us being together for good as a family was too good to be true, and my father had some things to say about that when he was alive. I didn’t listen to him then because he usually used it as an excuse to pass up opportunities, but it looks like he was right.

I move away from the door so that if River opens it and goes in my direction, he won’t hit me. I move to the wall nearby so that he won’t see me, either, and then I slump down. My head is in my hands and I’m about to cry, but then I hear her.

My daughter.

She toddles her way over to me, concern evident in her eyes as she looks at her mother. She asks me what’s wrong, and I can’t answer her – she’s almost four. My daughter shouldn’t be comforting me.

What have I done?

I ignore the question, kissing the soft curls near her forehead instead.

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” I ask her, grabbing her and pulling her towards me. I hold her close, and it’s like I’m comforting her, when really I’m getting comfort from my own daughter. It’s going to be just her and me, for the first time. We weren’t alone when Jason left us – River was chasing after us, and he found us, was with us.

He won’t chase after us anymore, I guess.

“Is River leaving?”

She looks up at me. Children know things and Dawn is one of the smartest of the bunch. River might say she takes after me… I didn’t tell her that River was her father and now I’m glad I didn’t.

I promised River that I would tell her…

I’m such a liar.

I shake my head against her hair, holding her close to me as the tears threaten to spill out of my eyes. My eyes are hot and the lashes stick together. But I can’t cry. Not around Dawn. She can’t know that anything’s wrong.

“No, sweetie,” I lie through my teeth. I’ll find a way to make it up to Dawn later, but I feel sick betraying her trust like this. She always reminds me that she’s a big girl, and that she’ll be five next year – her words, not mine. I know how old she is. She grows up so fast. I just don’t want to have to make her grow up any faster.

“Let’s go upstairs. It’s late,” I say, pulling her into my arms and getting ready to stand. She’s getting heavy and soon I won’t be able to pick her up anymore, not like River can. He’s so strong, it’s so easy for him to pick her up – for him to pick us both up. He’s leaving. No one will pick up Dawn anymore. Even though it’s a struggle, I make my ways towards the stairs.

“It’s morning!” She protests through her yawns, demanding I look through the windows to see the sunlight creep in. From the way the sky clings to the morning and the way it rises up against the coast, I’m guessing it’s barely six.

Too early for Dawn to be awake.

“Hm,” I kiss her on the forehead again instead of responding, tickling her for her silliness. “You’re silly, goose. A silly goose.”

She denies it, but she’s smiling all the while. We make it up the stairs and I tuck her into my bed – a bed that will soon be occupied by only me, instead of me and River – so Sabrina can get some more rest.

I notice the bags under Sabrina’s eyes when we eat breakfast; Dawn is a hyper child. Besides, it might be harder for her to interrupt any talk between River and me in here.

And I do need to talk to River.

About us. About everything.

He needs to know we can never see each other again.

I just don’t know how to tell him why. He can’t know I heard him…

Every step I take towards the kitchen, I feel a little piece of my heart die. The hard white tile beneath my feet is the same as it was when we got here almost two weeks ago. Nothing about the lines in the wood has changed.

The cabinets are the same too. Even the table River and I sat at is adjusted, all the seats pushed back into place like he wasn’t just sitting there ten minutes ago breaking my heart.

Not that he knew he was…

But River isn’t here. And I need to go look for him.

* * *

I
cry
out his name as I walk along the beach, and part of me wonders if he’s already left. It sounded like Thomas was offering him a few days more to get there, to say goodbye. Maybe he decided to go without farewell. Make it easier on both of us. Or maybe he didn’t care enough to. Maybe he never cared at all.

I can’t think like that. I know he loves me… But the way I feel about this situation is tainting every memory I’ve ever had together, and it feels like each moment was just another stepping stone to the buildup of heartbreak.

When I finally find him, he’s sitting in the sand where we made love last night. He’s put on some clothes, though. Loose fitting shorts and a looser shirt that blow with the wind, making it seem like he’s running away from something even though he’s sitting still.

I throw myself down beside him.

But I don’t say anything.

And neither does he.

For a while, we just sit there. The wind blows and the water moves, the driftwood from the ocean creeping in to the beach as the waves beat down on it.

Nothing will bow to water. It’s unbreakable.

But… We aren’t.

I move my hand to his, offering it to him, and he takes it in his. Still we sit there quietly. It’s not as tense as this should be. As soon as I speak, that changes everything.

“River.”

“Faith.”

We say each other’s names at the same time, stumbling over each other in our attempts to get through whatever we have to say first. He’s sitting beside me and pulling me to him, telling me that it’ll be all right, that he’ll come back…

He’s giving me promises, promises of constants, like the wind and the waves around us.

We can never be that constant.

He has to know. He has the right to know.

“River,” I gulp out his name again, moving my eyes down so he doesn’t see how little I mean what I’m saying.

“River…” I repeat his name again, trying to sound less unsure. He’s taking none of it and he grabs my chin, making me look at him.

And every hope I had of sounding reasonable fades away as he looks at me. Eye to eye. Not for the first time, but probably for the last. I blurt it out.

“We’re not going to work out, River.”

He stares at me, his eyes shocked and then going cold after that phase of visible hurt I know I’ll never be able to get out of my mind.

“What? Faith,” he presses a hand to my forehead, trying to be the jokester he usually is. The man I fell in love with. The man I love. “I think you’re getting sick, baby.”

“No,” I shake my head. He can’t know I overheard, or he’ll just want to go back to me. He needs to think this is all my doing, but I can’t bring myself to break his heart like that.

“River, this is nice, and, and, everything. It’s nice,” it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I can’t believe I’m saying this.

“But we’re not right.”

We’re perfect.

We were born to live and die together, leave our mark on the world as one.

“After this…” I breathe. Breathe, Faith. Breathe. “I don’t want to see you again.”

Our hands are entwined until the last sentence, the grip getting weaker and weaker with each word.

River’s jaw clenches. He throws his fist into the sand and gets up, running as far away from me as he can. Then I get up too, and I’m running away from myself as best I can, too, but I’ll always be stuck with me.

I’m not even halfway to the villa when the tears finally start to spill out.

N
othing ever fucking goes right
in my life. I was about to tell Faith about what was going on… My hands go to the pockets on either side of my shorts, searching for something.

The box.

I take it out in my hand, watching the light of the bastard sun glimpse off of it. Not an engagement ring, yet, as I’d intended… My grandmother’s ring would look beautiful on Faith’s hand.

A promise ring.

It’s a promise ring. A promise to hold and to love her, forever and now. To be there for both her and Dawn, when they need me and especially when they think they don’t.

I fucked up. I fuck up everything. I don’t know what I did to make Faith hate me so much, but I know that deep down she still loves me. I don’t know if I’m just deluding myself to think that or what…

No. I’m not some insecure loser. Faith is my girl, and she always will be. But right now, something’s going on. I’m pissed.

I take the ring out of the box, holding it in my hand and looking at it as I move further down the beach. Closer to the hot sand and girls in bikinis I’m supposed to lust after, and away from my love.

Eventually, I break away from all the crowds. The sand is colder here, where the sun hasn’t battered down on it so much and where the water has rushed up higher than usual. It’s wet beneath my bare feet and I’m grateful that I didn’t pull on shoes. I was rushing to get out of that house. I might not have if I knew Faith was going to come and…

Fuck!

I shout up at the sky, cursing everything, swearing, not caring if some fucking stupid family on their vacation hears me. I swing my hand back and throw the ring as far into the water as I possibly can, but my throw is fucked in my anger and it bounces a pathetic distance into the sea before sinking.

This is so wrong. I need to make it right. But I need to clear my head first, so I continue down into the peach towards a copse of some type of tree I admired earlier. I’m almost completely through the copse when I trip over something pink, and warm.

Hot, suntanned flesh.

Familiar flesh. Not in the sense that this is a girl I’d been with before, or ever intended to be with.

“Sabrina?” My voice is more confused than I want it to be, and I feel drunk. The world is slurring. Everything about it is blurry at the edges and I just want to wake up in the morning and find out that someone else dealt with my problems – so long as that person wasn’t Faith, cleaning me up. Right now, much as I hate it, she is my problem.

And her best friend is lying at my feet, entwined with…

“Thomas, you motherfucker,” my voice turns to venom and I’m about to take out every scrap of anger I have on him.

This is all his fault. I was fine until that bastard came in here with his greed and his blackmail and got between me and my family.

“This is all your fault!” But I’m angry and disoriented, and clumsy. I move to attack him and I slip over the sand; the ground is uneven and unsteady, and there are rocks where previously there had been nothing. I move to get him again, and I slip.

“You’re losing your touch, River,” Sabrina says, a hand over her eyes to guard her gaze from the sun as she looks up at me.

She shoos away Thomas, and he scurries off, the both of them obviously worried that I’m going to fucking kill him.

I might.

I tell her as much.

“Your one-night stand is teetering a little too close to death for my taste,” I say, my teeth gritted.

But when she pats the ground next to her, I collapse down beside her on the sand, like I had with Faith. This is more comfortable, though. Sabrina might be able to help me, as much as we’ve never bonded or even remotely liked each other.

“If I had a beer right now,” Sabrina raises a hand, imitating a toast a college kid might give at a frat party. “I wouldn’t share it with you.”

I raise my eyes to her, wondering aloud. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” she says, pressing her pretend beer to her lips and taking a hearty swig. I laugh despite myself, but I still feel a black anger in my stomach.

“You need to calm down and being on anything won’t help you. What’s up?” I don’t answer, and she raises an eyebrow at me.

Well, one and a half eyebrows. She still can’t raise a brow like I can, but she’s gotten better – clearly through practice. “Faith?”

“Faith,” I repeat, “does not love me anymore.”

“You,” she pushes a finger to my chest, jabbing me in the chest with each word as she mocks my tone.

“Are full of shit.” Her voice turns to normal as she says, “you and Faith are meant to be together. Always have been, always will be.”

“You seem pretty smug for someone whose best friend just broke up with me.” I like talking to Sabrina, I realize.

I can be a casual asshole without her accusing me of just doing it to protect myself because she does the same, and neither of us want to call the other out on it. I see how Faith would love the both of us, albeit in different ways.

“Did she really?” She turns on her back. She’s been lying on her stomach this whole time, I realize. Then she takes her phone out from under her towel – was she making out with Thomas intentionally or just sunbathing and it kind of just happened? – and I’m confused. It’s not even on.

“Ah, you see,” she says, noticing my frown. “This phone isn’t on. This phone doesn’t even get any fucking service out here. But this phone? If it were on, I bet Faith’s been texting me, begging for ways to get back with you.”

“I didn’t break up with her, remember,” I smirk. But Sabrina is going something with this so I don’t fight against her.

“I remember. But you forget,” she grins, turning her phone on, “that my friend is very angsty. I have a plan. Come here.”

I move closer to her until she nods and pushes a hand against me, shoving me back a little as a playful reminder not to crowd her space. She’ll get Faith and me right again, like she always has. We’ll just need to work together.

* * *

S
abrina tells
Faith that we still have some time together and we need to keep the family together as best we can, for Dawn. And then they can figure out an explanation for the little girl. I feel bad about using my daughter as an excuse to get close to Faith, but…

What can you do?

Nothing, River. Calm down.

We get in a classic car I didn’t know anyone up here had and drive down into town. There’s a market Sabrina wants to go to, so she can grab some stuff to make food.

Then after she finds a store she’ll like, she’ll say they don’t have what she needs there and ditch both of us. That’s the plan.

I nod at Sabrina from where she sits in the passenger’s seat, and she nods back. Faith and I are together in the back with Dawn in the middle.

Thomas is driving, so I can’t kill him right now without risking a car accident hurting either of the three, much as I want to. But my anger is subsiding.

I put an arm around Dawn and move it around Faith too, mainly aiming at holding her. She doesn’t fight it; the scowl she tacks on at the end looks like just that. An add-on.

This is temporary. I know it is. She can’t mean any of it.

We get to town and we all leave, our feet hitting the cobbled stones of an old road. I hold the door open for Faith, helping my girl out as Thomas goes off.

He’s looking for somewhere safe he can park, unlike the space beneath the tree close by where we might be hit, he says. He works for a boxer but he’s not at all a lover of danger. I make a note in my head to give him shit about this later.

The streets are filled with carts full of food, and Sabrina’s excuse is actually a good one. I grab an orange from a stall and pass some money to the man working there, then split it up into little pieces – littler for Dawn, but she’s learning to handle big kid food now, more than ever – and pass them to the two most important women in my life.

“You know,” I say, catching Faith’s attention with my smirking tone. “If Sabrina decides she doesn’t want to cook, I’m plenty capable of making dinner too.”

Faith snorts, slamming herself against my shoulder playfully.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her tone betraying that she’s happier around me than she ever is alone. “You’d probably burn it.”

“I’ll have you know I’d be a great housewife,” I wink at Dawn, and she giggles. I joke, but I’m a great cook – and hopefully Faith and Dawn will both know some day. We walk through the market, making plans of what to do today to bond and have some fun, and we all smile. But I’m just thinking of them and the future, and how I can stretch this out into other days –

Just because you take it day by day doesn’t mean you only think of the one.