Going Nowhere (25 page)

The next few weeks were…interesting. I began working like a crazy woman on my writing. I was learning so much from Emily. She became my rock, my soundb
oard, and my sister. I don’t know what I would have done without her. So many nights I stared at my computer spending hours researching and talking with other writers. I second-guessed everything and had my weak moments, but I kept on my path. I explored all aspects of writing. Song lyrics, poems, nonsensical rants, even freaking haikus were a daily exercise. I wrote today about how annoying Emily could be sometimes. It was therapeutic.

I wanted to make up for all the things I didn’t know, but there was one thing I figured out about writing. You will
never know what you’re doing or if it’s the right way to go about it. Writing is just like any growing pain. It hurts, but after you’re done there’s a new part of you. At least this is what I’ve been telling myself. Sounds pretty smart and put together doesn’t it?

I’d like to think so.

Emily and I spent the entire weekend slaving over an article sample I could bring with me when I meet with her editor. I was really nervous. It’s one thing to share what I’ve written with people who know me, but it was something else entirely to share it with a stranger. Drumming my fingers on my keyboard, I stared out the window of Emily’s kitchen.

This was something I had to get over. Every writer in the world shares themselves with the public. It’s why we write, hoping to touch other people or share a message. Did I really have the balls to do this?

Ever since “The Conversation” with Jase I’ve been doing some soul searching. As corny as that sounds, I’ve been making strides. It’s hard to hold a mirror up to yourself and stare at the ugly, to ask yourself the really hard questions and be honest with the answers.

There’s a lot that I don’t like about myself, but I’m learning I need to take the bad with the good and accept who I am. After all, if I
were such a horrible troll would anyone actually love me and want to be around me? I had to have some redeeming qualities.

I pulled myself away from my thoughts and stilled my fingers on the keyboard.
I read through what I wrote today and my fingers itched to fix everything, to over analyze. Honestly, I wanted to delete the whole damn thing. Were people really going to read this?

“Mari!” Emily called from somewhere in the house. I called out to Emily letting her know I was in the kitchen. “Hey! What did we agree to?” She barked at me when she came into the kitchen. I pushed my computer away from me guiltily.

“I’m not aloud to edit while I write.” I said shamefaced. I gave her big, puppy dog eyes but she just crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down.

“And why do I tell you this?”

“Because it slows me down and I spend more time picking apart what’s wrong with it then actually writing it and I’m not an editor so I need to leave it to the professionals.” I quoted dutifully.

“Right.” She nods like a proud teacher and sits down next to me, shifting the computer in front of her. “What are you writing about today?”

Rubbing my hands back and forth on my thighs, I told her, “I’ve been writing about the past two weeks. Or starting to anyways.” I clear my throat and stare everywhere but Emily’s face. I can’t fucking stand when she reads what I write in front of me. Shifting in my seat, I jog my knee.

“Are you serious with this haiku, brat?” Emily asks. I choke on a laugh. I forgot that I wrote that in there.

“Uh-“ I begin, but my throat closes on another laugh. She’s giving me the stink eye.

“I am not annoying.”

“No-“

“I am trying to help.”

“I know-“

“You should be thankful, you know.”

“Emily-“

“Ungrateful
.”

“Emily!” I yell and glare at her. “Stop interrupting me.” I wait for another interruption
, but continue when she says nothing. “You know how grateful I am to you and how much I value your opinion. And besides you are annoying as shit, but I love you. I’m just blowing off steam.”

“He misses you too.” Emily said. And my brain takes a second to realize whom she’s referring to.

“You give me conversation whiplash. I can’t keep up with you.” I sigh and rub my forehead.

“I’m just saying. You said you miss him, I’m just letting you know he misses you too.”
She says, indicating the Word document.

“I know he does. But the rest of the tour has been going great. He’s interacting with the crow
ds and Declan said he’s going out with the guys more.”

“Ah, keeping tabs, have you?” She asks, lifting a brow.

Rolling my eyes, “Look, just because I’m not with him right now, doesn’t mean I’m not interested in what he’s doing. I just want to make sure he’s ok since he’s not answering any of my texts.”

“You’ve been texting him?”
She laughs incredulously.

“We were best friends, Em, I just thought that we could go back to that-“

“You’re an idiot.” She says bluntly.

“You know, it’s a wonder that I have
any self-esteem anymore.” I argue, miffed.

It was Emily’s turn to roll her eyes, “Come on, Mari! Did you honestly think that after breaking his heart he would respond to your ‘Hey, what’s up?’ texts? Seriously?”

“Yes, Emily, I did. We were friends first; I thought that we could still be.” I defend.

“Like I said. Idiot.”

Shoving away from the table, I grab my bag and storm out of the house, ignoring her when she calls out to me. Hopping in my car, I turn on my iPod and blare my music. This time it’s angry, matching my mood. How dare she call me an idiot?

Fuming I fly towards home. What is so fucking wrong with wanting to be friends with him? I slam my hand on the steering wheel. My phone rings from its position in my passenger seat and I see that it’s Emily. I hit ignore and toss it in my backseat.

Fuck this shit. I have three days before I meet with Mr. Frank Melina, Emily’s boss. I’m getting the fuck out of here for a couple days. I pull into my parent’s driveway and hop out, slamming my door, but keeping the car running. I wrench open the front door and slam it behind me, startling my mom who was cooking.

“Marisol, what the hell?!” She yells at me, but I ignore her and stomp up to my room.

I am
not
an idiot. It’s not like I think we would stay broken up forever. It’s a goddamn break from the heavy shit that plagued our relationship for Christ sake.

What is so wrong with wanting to get my shit together and not wanting Jason to ruin his career because his attention was elsewhere? I was eliminating myself from the equation to give us a chance.

Fuck!

Hands shaking, I grab my overnight ba
g out of the closet and throw clothes into it, not giving a shit if it’s clean, dirty or even matched. Am I really the only person who gets why I did this?

Slinging the bag over my shoulder
I trot downstairs and head into the kitchen. My mom is muttering to herself about me. I lean over and kiss her cheek.

“Sorry about slamming the door. I’m heading to Kayla’s for a day or two, I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Marisol Claire, what happened? You look furious.” She asks, turning to me.

“That’s because I am, Mom. I’m not going to get into it. If Emily calls tell her I’ll see her in a couple days.”

“You don’t have Mikey?”

“Nope, it’s Friday. Em
ily’s working from her house today and is home all weekend. I gotta run. Love you!” I call as I leave, this time closing the door quietly behind me.

I fling my bag into the back of the car and grab my phone to call Kayla. I roll my eyes when I see that I have another missed call from Emily and one from Declan. I can’t talk to her right now and d
on’t want to talk to Declan. I was just about to call Kayla when a call from Declan came through again. Sighing I hit “answer.”

“What?” I practically growl.

“Is that how you answer your phone? Nice, kiddo.” Declan drawls.

“Dec, what do you want?” I spit out and I hear him sigh heavily.

“Emily called and said she pissed you off.”

“She did.”

“Wanna tell me why?”

“Nope.”

I was done involving Declan into this. No more checking up on Jase, no more late night chats about it. It wasn’t fair to him.

“Come on, Mars.”

“No. I’m done talking to you about this shit. It’s not fair of me to do that to you. I’m putting you in the middle of things.”

“Marisol. You’re my friend too.”

“Look. I appreciate and I love you for it, honestly. You’ve become such a good friend, but I’m not going into this with you. I gotta go, ok?”

“Ok-”
I hang up before he can finish. My blood was pumping through my veins. I am so tired of people checking up on me like I’m some head case. I can’t believe Emily called Declan. Quickly dialing Kayla, I wait impatiently while the phone rings. When she answers, I speak before she can say anything.

“Kayla I’m coming into town for a day or two. I need to get away and be distracted by your crazy wedding Bridezilla drama. Is that ok?”

“It sounds like you’re already on your way.” She said sounding amused.

“Sorry.” I said, not sounding sorry at all.

“You know you always can come here, and to be honest I could use the help. Johnny has been steering clear of my lately, making me do everything by myself.” She grumbles. I don’t tell her that he’s doing this because she ends up hating whatever he does and has to redo it herself. He’s just saving himself from getting bitched at. Lesson one as a Maid of Honor: agree with the bride. Always agree with the bride.

“Ok I’ll see you in about an hour.”

“Ok, bye!”

“Bye.” I fling my phone in the passenger seat again. Should I just shut it off? Ugh, no, what if there’s an emergency? My iPod begins to play Adam Lambert’s
What Do You Want From Me
and I turn the volume all the way up, belting out the lyrics with him.

Honestly, was I the bad guy here? I am a fucking mess and it’s spilling into everyone’s life. As much as I missed him I was doing the right thing.

I think.

The rest of the weekend I dodged calls from Declan, my parents and Emily. Being M.I.A. was immature, I knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. It was exhausting growing up. Visiting Kayla proved to be an awesome diversion. She was so wrapped up in everything that went along with planning a wedding; she didn’t bother to ask me any questions. But the weekend was over and it was time to get back to reality. Sitting in my car, I stared at Emily’s house.

Creeper move? Maybe.

Shaking my head I mentally slapped myself and got out of the car. Jingling the keys to settle my nerves I walked up to the house, hoping that the tail between my legs wasn’t too visible. My hand lifted to knock but the door was flung open before it could hit the wood.

“I’m sorry!” Emily cried and then grabbed me into a bone-crushing hug.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just overreacted.” I admitted.

“I shouldn’t have judged you. It’s not my place.” She said, pulling back and walked over to the couch, taking a seat.

Plopping down next to her I said, “Never stopped you before.” She raised an eyebrow and I giggled. “No really though. I was being an idiot.”

“I just don’t understand what you expected to happen, Mari. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Leaning my head on the back of the sofa I gathered my thoughts. “It’s not that I thought we could go back to the way we were before we started dating, I just-“ I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face, “I just wanted to take a break and let him do what he needs to do without the drama. I was taking myself out of the equation before things got worse.”

“You ran.” Emily said bluntly and I couldn’t argue. She was right.

“Yeah, ok I ran, but this time it was the right thing to do. He needs to do this. He put his life on hold for everyone. He did the right thing, but he has a second chance and I don’t want to stand in his way. I’m dragging him down with my insecure bullshit and I’m doing it again with this texting.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is so fucking annoying. I hate these girls and it grates on my nerves like no other that I’m becoming this idiot who can’t trust the man in her life because of his past.”

“Marisol, I hate to interrupt, but what in the fuck are you trying to say?” She said and I burst out laughing.

“I love him. He knows this and he knows why I pumped the breaks on our relationship, but I can’t help but think that maybe he’s tired of all my bullshit and will move on.”

“Panty dropper.”

“Panty dropper.” I agreed, nodding.

“Has he told you about that time in his life?” Emily inquired, tilting her head.

“He just told me that he wasn’t proud of it and that it was something he did to mask the pain.” Which was why I was worried. I knew I was hurting him. Emily lets out a sigh and holds up a finger, indicating she needed a minute. She got up and went down the hall, checking to make sure Little Man was still asleep. She was back in a second and plopped back down facing me.

“All right. I’m only going to tell you this once and if I ever hear you throw this in my brother’s face again
, I will never forgive you.” She waited until I nodded. “When our parents died, Jase lost it. I think he took it harder than I did. Not saying I didn’t suffer or lash out, Mikey is proof of that, but Jase went off the deep end. He was never this player that hooked up with chicks constantly, not giving two shits about them and send them packing in the morning. Our parents didn’t raise him that way and Jase isn’t wired that way. He’s probably the most comfortable man in the world with his feelings. It’s not a weakness and it certainly doesn’t make him less of a man because he doesn’t go around paddling chicks in the bedroom because his daddy didn’t love him.” I choked out a laugh at that. Emily has a way with words.

“Our parents were openly affectionate
, with themselves and with us. Added to that, Jase is a musician; his soul is naturally more poetic. This all changed when they died. It was like his light shut off and everything that made him such a beautiful, caring man disappeared. He was drowning himself because he felt his pain too keenly. Women, booze, and music became his life. I was thrown to the wayside, and to this day it still haunts him. I was wild; doing the same shit only he was more careful. I, on the other hand, could care less if I was hurt or if I hurt someone in the process.

Then I
met Jackson. He was a bastard, but he didn’t ask questions and that’s what I needed. I’m sure you can guess where that went.” She paused for a second and looked at me straight in the eye. My heart broke a little when I saw the pain and embarrassment in her eyes. “When I found out I was pregnant, I lost it. It was like my parents death all over again. Declan called and told him what happened. He assured me everything was going to be ok, and then the next morning Jason showed up at the front door. He was a mess. He felt so guilty about leaving me to deal with out parent’s death and not being here when I needed him. He dropped everything for me. I have my own guilt where that’s concerned, but that’s a story for another time. So you see? Both times that he was away, both times that he was slutting it up something terrible happened.”  We were both quiet when she finished, lost in thought.

“And
then I left him.” I cringe. Guilt and shame flooded me and I took a deep breath to hold the tears at bay.

“I get why you’re doing it. You are basically doing what Jase did for me all those years ago, but Jase needs you Mari. You make him better
, and you’re the first thing he claimed for himself in years. You need to stop running. Why is it so hard to believe that you can be loved?”

“He burns so bright, Em. It’s hard sometimes not to get blinded and fall into the shadows.”

“You have a lot going for you now, Mari. You’re not the same girl that ran into a bar in a panic because you couldn’t face what life had dealt you. You’ve grown up, and finding yourself isn’t something that happens in a couple weeks. Finding out who you are is a process that takes a lifetime.”

“You’re right.”

“Babe, I’m always right. I got that Mom knowledge.” She winks making me laugh.

“So what now?”

“Now we work on the final draft of your first issue and get you prepped for the meeting in two days. Put Jase on the back burner for now.”

I nodded, “I just wish I could tell him what’s going on. I miss my best friend.”

“He knows. He may not be talking to you, but he’s talking to me and Declan.”

Huffing a breath, I reached in my bag and brought out a notepad and pen. “Ok, give me your notes, I’m ready to make this article my bitch.”