The Final Piece (16 page)

I don’t want to get back together with Charlie, I don’t hate him or wish him any ill will, but I mourn the piece of myself that I gave away and will never get back. I loved Charlie; I still do, but I was never in love with him. I wanted to be, so badly. If fact, I wanted to fall in love with him so badly, I kept giving more of myself away, thinking what I gave could force feelings that were never there. I thought I could prove to myself how far forward I’d come by sleeping with Charlie. All it did was shine a light on how pathetic I’d become.

I should have never dated him. I should’ve cared about our friendship more than that, but I was so scared of being alone, I slipped into the most comfortable and safest place I knew—Charlie. I used him and I think he always knew it. I’m a terrible person and I deserve the world of hurt I’ve brought down on myself. For now, I need space to lick my wounds. Charlie would never let me be alone in any kind of grief, and he deserves to move on with his life without the weight of my crap holding him down.

“I need you to let me go, Charlie,” my voice cracks, betraying my hurt.

“Beth,” he breathes, “please.”

“I’m not mad at you, Charlie,” I hiccup. Cyn settles at my other side and joins Les in embracing me. ”I’ll always love you, but I’m not one of those people who can be friends with my exes. I can’t do it.” I probably sound like a total bitch but I
need
this and the truth would only hurt Charlie. “Please, Charlie,” I beg. “Go be with Tina. Have some fun. You need to stop worrying over me and go live your life. It’s not with me, it never has been. You were always going to the University of Georgia and I was always going to UNC-Chapel Hill, we were never supposed to end up together. It still hurts, though. The only thing that will help with that is time and space. Please try and understand. If you love me at all, please try.”

There is deafening silence on the line while Charlie considers his answer, and I use it to pray that he won’t press me any further.

“Please promise me one thing,” his voice is thick with pain and it breaks my heart all over again. “If you ever need anything. Ever. Call me.”

It takes me a minute before I can breathe again, let alone speak. “Okay, Char. I will.” I whimper.

“Goodbye, Beth.” The finality of his words slice through what is left of my wretched heart. I can’t help but think I deserve every bit of the pain.

“Goodbye, Charlie,” I whisper and hand the phone to Les before I can change my mind. When I look at her my own sadness reflects in her eyes. It’s all the encouragement I need to give myself over to the sobs I’ve been choking back. Cyn and Les hover around me until my tears have run dry, cheering me on the whole time.

“Of course you’re sad,” Les says, “He was your first. It’s a big deal.”

“You going to really worry me if you say that you wish you’d waited for Ryan, because it’s been almost five years, honey.” I laugh at Cyn’s bluntness. She’s right, but that’s not exactly how I feel.

“No, I made the decision to let him go so I’m not holding out hope,” I sigh, “but with all of this heartache, I can’t help but get nostalgic for what could’ve been. It doesn’t mean I’m closing up shop and waiting for someone who’s not coming.”

“Thank God for that,” Les hoots. “Hey, I hear there’s this great guy who lives down the hall, maybe I can set you up. Let’s just give Trent a call.”

I howl with laughter. I would be an absolute mess without them.

“All right, ladies,” I bounce off the couch and clap my hands together, “where are we at here?” I grab the BeDazzler and the underpants for inspection.

For the next few hours, Cyn finishes up her handiwork; while Les makes sure we have plenty of frozen Reese’s mini cups and bottomless Frodkas. Whenever one of us is having a bad day, it’s our ritual to break out the peanut butter cups, Fresca and vodka. Cures whatever ails you. Under the cloak of midnight, we steal across the quad and swap out the UNC Chapel Hill flag for Cyn’s colorful masterpiece.

You Wish. Love, Cyn.

We were too busy getting pictures and giving each other high fives to notice campus security pulling up on their golf cart.

Crap.

Chapter 26

RYAN

The setting sun is shining through the windshield at that perfect angle that no sun visor can touch, adding to my already foul mood. At least the traffic on I-80 is bearable. It’s a little relief for the nagging anxiety pounding in my skull. What do they say about the road to hell? Good intentions and all that crap? Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I take the exit off Eighth Street and cross Grand Avenue into Gran and Pops’ neighborhood.

Tommy’s Explorer is parked in their gravel driveway, no surprise there. Grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat, I head into the familiar comfort of home. Adopted home. Whatever, this place has always felt like home to me.

“Knock, knock,” I call out as I open the front door.

“Ryan Cantwell? Is that you?” I hear Gran’s voice just before she turns the corner. “I thought that was your voice! What a wonderful surprise,” she coos as she walks toward me with open arms. The lines on her face deepen with the warm smile that spreads across her face as she hugs me to her. “What are you doing home? You’re not on break, are you?”

“No, he’s not,” Tommy walks through the doorway wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His brows meet in the middle as his expression goes from surprised to concerned. “What’s up, Ry? Everything okay?” When Gran steps aside, Tommy grabs me in a fierce hug,
“
What’s going on, son?”

“I just needed to get away for a day or two, so I decided to take a long weekend,” I try to brush it off.

“Hmmpph.” Tommy grunts. His mustache twitches and I know he’s not buying it. “You’re just in time for dinner. Melissa and Rob should be here any minute.”

“Where’s Pops?” I ask.

“Band practice,” Gran smiles. Pops has played the drums in a local band for as long as I’ve known him and probably longer than that. The girlish blush that crosses Gran’s cheeks makes the problems I left in Iowa City seem a little further away.

What is it with girls and musicians?

“Is that Ry’s car out front?” Melissa’s voice carries in from the porch. When they walk through the front door, she lets out a squeal and comes in for a hug, “What are you doing here?”

“Yet to be determined,” Tommy cocks a challenging eyebrow my way.

Uncle Rob sniffs the air. “Smells like girl trouble.” Melissa swats his arm. “Ow, woman.”

“Behave you two,” Melissa points back and forth between Rob and Tommy. ”Leave Ry alone. He’ll tell us what hussy has his knickers in a twist when he’s ready.” She gives me a smug wink. I’m thrilled to know that my visit is so transparent. So much for running away for a few days.

Uncle Rob slaps me on the back as we head to the dining room. “Ry, the best advice anyone ever gave me about women was this—smile and nod.” He smiles a big cheesy smile and nods his head.

I lucked out on dinner tonight, Gran made pot roast. My favorite, and highly preferred over the cafeteria food at school. Everyone chats casually about their day and what’s going on around town. Tommy gives me the look from the corner of his eye for the third time tonight. I squint my eyes at him. I only ever get that look when he’s chewing on something really good to tell. He’s been building up the suspense with these sideways glances all through dinner.

“Spill it, T,” Gran chimes in.

I laugh out loud at her spot on observation.

“I got a call from the dean’s office at UNC today,” Tommy’s starts. My chest tightens in anticipation of what he’ll say next. “They called me because Casey and John are out of the country, and I’m Beth’s next emergency contact. Apparently, our baby girl got caught red handed, hoisting a pair of jeweled skivvies up the flagpole in the quad, early this morning.”

We sit in stunned silence as we all soak in Tommy’s words. I blink once, twice, and then start laughing so hard, I can’t breathe. Tommy and Rob lose it, too. Aunt Melissa and Gran try hard to keep serious faces, but even they’re sucked in by the hoots and howls that fill the tiny dining room.

“She did what?” I laugh.

Tommy holds an index finger up until he can contain his laughter.
             
“Apparently, some dumb ass kid on her floor started a rumor about her roommate, Cyn. So she, Cyn and their other roommate, Les, stole his drawers from the laundry room and gem-wazzled a message on them,” he howls with another fit of laughter.

“Bedazzled you fool. It’s bedazzle not gem-wazzle,” Melissa giggles,

“Whatever,” Tommy waves her off. ”Anyway, they snuck across campus and took down the state flag and raised that boy’s underwear up the flagpole.”

Any hope for controlling my laughter is gone. I use my napkin to dab at the tears in my eyes as I try to picture Beth dressed up like a cat burglar, slinking across campus with bedazzled Fruit of the Looms waving around in her hand.

Damn, I miss that girl.

“The campus security caught them taking pictures of their handiwork. I don’t think they would’ve bothered with calling if Beth hadn’t been holding the state flag. According to the police report, it’s state property, and that’s where it could’ve gotten prickly.”

My eyes nearly roll out of my head. “The
re’s a police report?” I gasp.
Aunt Melissa and Gran lean in for the details on this question, no doubt already planning a Free Elizabeth Bradshaw Defense Fund.

“Yep, but no charges were pressed, so everything is fine.” Tommy is still chuckling and shaking his head.

“Did you talk to Beth?” I don’t know why all eyes are on me all of a sudden. I would think that would be the natural progression of the conversation. Aunt Melissa smiles a Cheshire grin that’s got me shifting in my seat.

“Yes, I did. She is fine, just disappointed that she got caught,” Tommy huffs.“ She’s pissed that she put her scholarship in jeopardy, but she’s fine and so is her scholarship, thank God. I think her days of mischief are over, though.” He looks up at me and gives me a tight smile.

All of a sudden I feel like I’m under the microscope.

“Well, now that we are all caught up on Beth’s latest hijinks, why don’t you tell us what’s brought you home, Ry.” Gran gives him a warm smile and I know she means it. These other hanyaks are nothing but a bunch of gossip mongers.

“I broke up with my girlfriend,” I mumble. A chorus of “what?” erupts around the table. “She wanted more than I did and it got ugly at the end, so I wanted to get away for couple a of days.”

“Liz?” Tommy asks, his face pinched with worry.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“What a minute,” Uncle Rob waves his hands in the air, “you had a girlfriend named ‘Elizabeth?’ Christ on a crutch what’d you do? Call her Beth by accident?” He chuckles until he sees the look on my face, “Shit, son. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it was dumb. We were in the cafeteria, and I was asking her to hand me a tray. I said ‘Can you hand me a tray, Beth?’ and all hell broke loose.” I shake my head at the memory of Liz’s face registering the horror of my mistake. I’ve never felt like a bigger asshole, ever.

“Aw, baby, I’m so sorry,” Melissa pulls her chair up next to mine and rubs my back. “Were you together for a long time?”

“No, just a couple of months, but she was one of my closest friends for three years before that. Now she can’t even look at me without screaming at me. We have the same friends and hang with the same group of people, so it’s not like I can avoid her. The thought of dealing with that this weekend was too much,” I grumble.

“Of course it is, that’s just awful, Ry,” Gran brushes my hair away from my forehead and kisses it. “I suppose the silver lining is that graduation is only a month away,” she encourages.

She’s right, thank God for that. I can’t wait to get my degree and find a job here in Des Moines. If anything, this mess with Liz has taught me that friends are fleeting, family is forever.

Chapter 27

BETH

5 Years Later…

We all have our own way of preserving memories. Whether it’s journaling the details or recording them on film, everyone possesses a drive to capture certain moments and freeze them in sacred reverence. My own life is cataloged by a series of photographs and journals that are all pinpoints on a timeline spanning my twenty-five years. The memories dearest to me, I pontificate through music and lyrics bound in a series of music composition books in my hope chest. With them are the artifacts of my childhood—old vinyl records, mix tapes and sheet music—my most prized possessions. Then again, my passion for music is why I work in the industry. I’m living the dream as the event coordinator at a music venue called The Edge in Charlotte. We cater to everyone from B.B. King to Jason Mraz, and they all get booked through me.

Tonight’s show is bittersweet. We are hosting Brutal Strength who are filming an acoustic set for the TV show,
Stripped
. It’s been ten years since Ryan gave me Brutal Strength tickets for my birthday, and today’s concert makes me think of those tickets and whether he ever found someone else to take. No matter how much time passes, I still get sentimental when I think of that summer and wish I could’ve included those tickets with my other music treasures. Nothing I have experienced since can hold a candle to my fifteenth birthday and no boy has ever filled the vacancy left by Ryan.