Perfect Regret ( BOOK 2) (21 page)

But she was insistent that she continue going and from the sound of her, I had hope it might actually help.

“It was hard. Every second of every day is a struggle. It’s hard for me to keep going in this life without your dad. I expected many more years together. I feel…cheated,” she admitted quietly and I felt the familiar tightness grip my chest.

“I know, Mom. I do too,” I said just as quietly.

We were silent after that for a while, neither of us willing to talk until emotions were in check.

“But everyone says time heals all wounds and I can only hold onto the hope that one day I will be able to remember you father without feeling the excruciating pain of his loss,” my mom finally said and I was reminded of Garrett’s words before leaving Maryland.

“Just try to take it one day at a time,” I told her. My mom’s chuckle eased some of the suffocating grief.

“Such a wise daughter I’ve raised,” she teased and I laughed in return.

“I just listen to people way smarter than me,” I acknowledged, surprised to find myself putting Garrett in that category.

“Very true. Now moving on to you. Tell me what’s going on in your life. What’s going on with that handsome boy your brought with you to Maryland? I really liked him, Ri,” Mom said, and I desperately wanted to shut down this conversation as quickly as possible.

“I got approved for an independent study next semester. Professor Cartwright is going to supervise it. Now I just have to decide on a topic. I was thinking of comparing Stuart era feminism through the plays of Aphra Behn with modern poet Adrienne Riche. Professor Cartwright says he’s never heard of anyone comparing those two before, so it would be something brand new,” I was rambled, hoping that if I talked long enough, Mom would forget about her well intentioned intrusive line of questioning.

No such luck.

“That sounds great, Riley. But why are you avoiding us talking about your fellow? What was his name again? I’m sorry I don’t remember it,” my mom broke in and I knew she wouldn’t let it go.

“Garrett. His name is Garrett Bellows,” I admitted, knowing avoidance efforts would be defeated by my mother’s information seeking militia.

“Garrett. I like that name. How did you meet him? Does he go to Rinard?” she asked and I snorted.

“Not exactly,” I said, knowing I sounded judgmental.

My mom picked up on my snotty tone instantly. “What’s that for? Does he go to a rival school or something? Is this like some sort of co-ed Romeo and Juliet?” she joked and I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me.

“No, he doesn’t go to another school. He doesn’t go to school at all,” I said.

“Did he already graduate?” she asked.

“No, he never went,” I told her.

“Oh,” my mother said shortly. “And this is obviously a problem for you,” she surmised.

“Well of course it’s a problem! He has no goals! Well nothing that goes beyond playing guitar in his silly rock band. How could I ever fit with someone who doesn’t want what I want? We have absolutely
nothing
in common, Mom!” I let out in a huff. I had gotten loud and I knew I was getting way too worked up.

Mom didn’t say anything for at least thirty seconds. “Well, it sounds like your mind’s made up,” she said succinctly and to the point.

“Yes, yes it is,” I said, feeling myself become irrationally defensive.

“But this guy with no future and no plans that you clearly have no respect for, drove you all the way to Maryland in the middle of the night so you could see your father. Huh,” she said and then went silent again.

Even through my frustration with this direction of our conversation, her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

“I respect him. That’s a little harsh,” I bit out.

“You respect him? Then why spend all this time telling me why he is such a bad fit for you? It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than me,” my mother informed me, sounding entirely too smug.

“I’m going to have a life that matters, Mom. I promised Dad I would have a life that
means
something. How can I do that with someone whose life doesn’t mean anything?” I asked, feeling like such a jerk for stating the thoughts that so often floated around my head. But it was the crux of my decisions where Garrett was concerned and I needed to vocalize them to the one person who wouldn’t judge me for them.

“How can you say his life doesn’t mean something? That’s very callous of you, Riley and your father and I raised you to be tolerant, compassionate and understanding. Your father said those words to you knowing you would continue to be that amazing and loving girl that we raised. But to make your mind up about someone without giving them the opportunity to show you who they really are, well that’s very
Republican
of you,” my mom said firmly and I almost gasped.

She had called me a Republican. And to my granola eating, tree-hugging mother, that was the height of insult.

“Mom, how could you say that to me?” I asked, feeling like a little kid being scolded for taking the last cookie. Parents were way too good at making you feel bad.

“Riley, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just disappointed in you. I don’t know this Garrett. And from the sounds of it, you don’t really either. Whose to say his life of meaning isn’t just as beautiful as the one you want to have? Whose to say you can’t make those lives matter
together?
Because the way that boy looked at you was something special. Your father would want you to do what makes your heart happy. Forget your head,” she advised and I had no words to refute her.

Because she was right.

Damn it, Moms were always right.

“T
hat girl’s poem was so infantile. I mean who tries to compare the destruction of western civilization with rotting fruit and say it with a straight face? Talk about trying too hard. Blech,” a girl named Karly said, sipping her Mocha Latte.

I was stuck at a table with four people who at one time I had considered friends. They had been acquaintances by way of my relationship with Damien. So in truth, they were
his
friends.
His
crowd. But not too long ago, I had sat around in this same kitschy coffee shop mocking everyone in order to make myself feel superior.

Wow, self-realization was a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.

Damien nodded as though Karly’s comments were the smartest thing he had ever heard.

“Word,” an overly skinny dude in a beret named Lou said from beside her. Had this douche really just said
word?
Had I blissfully ignored how these people reeked of pretention or had I been just as bad?

“I don’t know, I thought she was pretty good,” I spoke up, never one to sit by while other people were being dicks. From the way Karly looked at me in surprise, I had obviously never thought she was of the dick persuasion before.

“Are you serious, Riley? That drivel? Don’t make me laugh,” Karly snickered as though I couldn’t possibly be serious. The rest of the group laughed, including Damien who seemed to think I had knowingly made a big funny.

“Oh god, now it’s this dumbass’s turn. Who wants to be the first to boo him off the stage? Because if I have to hear one more poem about Star Trek I call riot,” Damien muttered, stirring his herbal tea after pouring an excessive amount of sugar in it. What was the point of herbal tea when you covered up the taste with insulin shock?

“Oh me!” Karly volunteered, going so far as to raise her hand like we were in class. Damien reached across the table to give her a high five and the peanut gallery yucked it up in anticipation of some poor guy’s epic downfall.

Damien gave me an excited smile as he grabbed the hand that lay in my lap. Lacing our fingers together like we had done a million times before in this very coffee shop, I could almost delude myself into thinking this was normal. That this is what I wanted.

And I used to believe in the Tooth Fairy too.

“You know what guys, I’ve had enough of screaming pretentious bullshit for one night, thanks,” I announced getting to my feet. Karly, Lou, and another guy named Colby stared at me with their mouths hanging open. I suppose I had somehow kept snarky Riley away from this group.

Damien looked at me frowning. “What are you talking about? I thought we were having a good time,” he said, pulling that hurt look he did so well.

“Yeah, well that was before I remembered what a bunch of assholes you guys are. I’ve got better things to do.” I pulled on my coat and wrapped my scarf around my neck. Karly and the beret twins were whispering to each other while giving me evil looks. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they looked sneering at me over the top of their ten dollar suburban housewife coffees. Sorry,
lattes.

Damien got to his feet and reached out as though to stop me. “I can come with you. Just wait and let me grab another coffee.” He was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet when I stopped him.

“No, Damien. There’s no point. I’m going to Barton’s,” I told him and the look Damien gave me said
that
explained everything. He slowly sat back down and then lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later then,” he said, turning away from me. Huh. How easy it was to end something that should never have started back up in the first place. If only everything in life were that easy.

The guy with the Star Trek poem took the stage and I cupped my hands around my mouth and gave him a loud whoop. He looked at me startled, the group I had just left, watching me in disgust. I pumped my fist in the air.

“Rock it, dude! Star Trek rules!” I yelled, wanting to laugh at the look on Damien’s face.

Without another word, I hurried out of the coffee shop, laughing hysterically the whole way. Thankfully I had driven that night. Perhaps I should have asked Damien if he was cool getting another ride, but I’m sure one of his dickhead friends could give him a ride. You know, after they eviscerated everyone’s poetry and declared they were the coolest kids in the room.

I had realized while I sat at that horrible reading that the person I was striving so hard to be again, wasn’t someone I necessarily liked. I knew I could be rude. I knew I could be overly obsessive when it came to following through on things. But damn it, I never thought I was outright cruel.

But I knew that was exactly what I had been one too many times before. How often had I cut someone down without a second thought? Poor Maysie had been on the receiving in of my vicious tongue more times than I could count and I considered her my best friend! What was wrong with me? I used sarcasm like a shield. Because god forbid anyone see that I was vulnerable under all this bitch.

And how I had behaved toward Garrett was perhaps my worst crime. In that moment, I needed to make it right. I needed to tell him I was sorry. We had been down this road before, when he came with me to Maryland. I had apologized, he had accepted, we had come to a place that felt fresh and right.

And what had I done? Gone and shit all over him again.

I knew to expect him to forgive me was perhaps reaching too high. I was pretty sure that ship had sailed. I knew he and Gracie were spending time together and I had already stomped over enough hearts to get in the way of whatever was developing between them.

But I needed him to know that I realized I sucked and that I was truly sorry.

Because I’d rather he be a guitarist without a plan than a jerk with his life laid out ahead of them.

I broke several traffic laws in getting to Barton’s. The place was packed so I had to park on the street. Walking into the bar, I knew that I stuck out like a sore thumb. My going out gear consisted of patchwork jeans and peasant top, paired with my Doc Martins. I had missed the dress like a hoochie memo.

I strained up on my tiptoes, trying to find Maysie’s dark head in the melee. Finally, I spotted her over by the bar. She was sat with Vivian and Gracie and for a second I considered turning around and hightailing it out of there. But then I glanced at the stage and at the boy who played his guitar as though possessed and I felt the steel in my spine.

Pushing through the craziness, my ears were already ringing from the music. Cole’s screaming vocals were always grating, but tonight, when I felt more than a little raw, they threatened to undo me.

But over it all I could make out Garrett’s guitar and that somehow made it all better.

“Hiya, ladies,” I yelled, once I had reached them. Maysie turned around and gave me a big smile.

“You made it!” she squealed, hugging me. She looked behind me. “And without the ass stain, I see,” she commented, making a face.

“Nice one,” Gracie piped up, giving me an almost genuine grin. “Hey, Ri!” she said, teetering on her stool and I realized why she seemed so relaxed with me. She was three sheets to the wind.

“Hey, G. Feeling good, I see,” I remarked dryly, knowing she wouldn’t pick up on the sarcasm. Gracie tipped her drink in my direction, dumping half of it on the floor in the process.

“You know it!” she hollered. Maysie grimaced and gave me a knowing look. Vivian was decked to the nines and gave me a preoccupied wave as she focused on the front of the stage and no doubt the hordes of barely clothed women jiggling their goods for the charismatic lead singer.

“How long have they been playing?” I asked, wanting to get my reason for being there over with. I had been so full of resolve on my drive, now I had an icky case of the dreads. I wasn’t one to lack in confidence, but when you’re in the wrong, it did a number on your nerves.

Maysie looked at the clock before turning back to me. “I don’t know, around forty-five minutes or so. They should be having a break in the next fifteen,” she informed me, pulling up a barstool so I could sit down.

My best friend leaned into me, knocking my shoulder with hers. “Seriously though, where’s Damien? I thought you two were hanging out tonight,” Maysie asked.

“I realized I had better things to do,” was all I said and Maysie snickered.

“Told you so,” she said with a smirk.

“Oh girl, you’re asking for a slap. Don’t you dare play the
I Told You So
card with me. Or we can start reaching into Maysie Ardin’s bag of mistakes for a good time,” I threatened good-naturedly. Maysie stuck her tongue out at me and I laughed over my nerves.

Now that I was here, I was seriously questioning my sanity. Why in the world was I opening a can of worms I had successfully closed shut? But the look on Garrett’s face each and every time I rejected him was flashing across my brain like a neon sign.

Why had it taken a bunch of uptight jerk wads to make me realize how unfair I was being toward him? I hated how capable I was of tearing someone down. Me, the queen of the fair chance. The crusader of the lost cause could also be voted most likely to be an insensitive asshat.

I needed to say my piece and even if Garrett rightly told me to get lost, I would know that I had attempted to make things right.

I looked over at Gracie, the girl who I had considered a good friend, and knew that I needed to make peace with more than just Garrett. I hated the rift between us and wanted to get things back to the way they were. Even if some subconscious part of me knew that there was more to the freeze out than me having a party in Garrett’s pants.

“Woohoo!” Gracie yelled drunkenly once the guys had concluded the song. Maysie’s eyebrows pinched together and she gave me a concerned look. I hooked my arm around Gracie’s waist and held her up so she wouldn’t topple off the barstool.

She pushed me back and gave me a nasty look. “I don’t need your help,
Riley,”
she muttered and I stood there stunned. Somewhere along the way, Gracie Cook had lost her ditzy, I-love-everybody- demeanor.

“Sorry. I was just trying to help,” I said but Gracie waved me off. She seemed to pull herself together a bit and gave me a forced smile.

“I’m fine. But thanks,” she then turned her back to me and waved Lyla, the bartender down for another drink.

Maysie put her hand over Gracie’s. “I think you’ve had enough for one night, G,” she said softly. Gracie frowned and looked between Maysie and me.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she replied, pulling her hand out from underneath Maysie’s. “Lyla!” she yelled, making everyone within a ten-foot radius turn to look at her.

Maysie and I both crowded in behind her as though to contain the embarrassment factor. “Where did Viv go?” I asked under my breath.

Maysie’s eyes cut to me sideways. “I have no idea,” she hissed back, trying to communicate with Lyla, using a complicated mixture of facial expressions and hand gestures, to stop serving an over the limit Gracie.

Lyla caught the hint and was suddenly very busy on the other side of the bar.

“Lyla! I need another!” Gracie yelled again. Maysie put her hand on her shoulder.

“Stop it, Gracie. I think you need to take it down a notch,” she said placating.

Gracie reeled back, away from her touch and fell off the chair. Thank god the band was playing, so it masked the Gracie Cook detonation that was taking place.

“Just leave me alone! Both of you! I’m going outside to get some air,” Gracie slurred, getting to her feet, slapping at our hands as we tried to help her.

“I’m coming with you,” Maysie said, causing Gracie to glare at her.

Maysie turned to me. “I’ll be back. Tell Jordan, when they take their break where I’ve gone,” she said and I nodded, my gut twisting into knots as I watched her trail after a barely standing Gracie. I wanted to go after them, but I knew that I was currently the last person Gracie wanted to see. And I didn’t want to set her off any more.

I picked up Gracie’s overturned barstool and sat down. I couldn’t focus on the show. I barely heard the songs. My mind working through what I would say to Garrett. Then it would flip to Gracie and how I knew without a doubt that something had to be done for her, and soon.

I was so lost in the suck fest quagmire of my depressing thoughts that I almost jumped out of my skin when someone put their hand on my shoulder.

“Ahh!” I yelled and karate chopped the unsuspecting owner of the hand in the gut.

“Ugh! What the hell, Ri!” Jordan doubled over.

Oops.

“That’s what you get for creeping up on me. Next time it’s a knee to the nuts, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I grumbled.

Jordan rubbed his stomach and gave me a pained smile. “Heard loud and clear.”

The other guys in the band were milling around and I tried to make Garrett out in the crowd. I couldn’t find him and I was beginning to feel like my chance was slipping through my fingers.

“Where’s Mays?” Jordan asked, looking like a lost puppy. It was both incredibly sweet and incredibly nauseating how devoted he was to my friend.

“She’s outside with Gracie,” I said and Jordan made a face.

“That girl is getting to be a handful. Did you hear about what happened at our last show?” Jordan asked taking the beer that Lyla handed him and popping the top with a lighter.