“How’s everything going?” I asked.
Garrett sighed. “They’ve been better. I’m sure you’ve heard things have been pretty rough on the Generation Rejects road to fame.”
“Yeah, Maysie’s in town, she filled me in. I’m so sorry, Garrett. But stuff will turn around. I’m sure of it,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic and confident.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. But I didn’t call to cry like a bitch on your shoulder, G,” he remarked.
“Oh really? I thought crying like a bitch was totally your thing.”
“Ouch. Man, you can be harsh,” Garrett laughed and I found myself grinning like a fool.
“So what did you call for then?”
“Riley says you’re coming to Norfolk this weekend. That’s great news. It’s been too long.” Garrett’s voice was light but there was a note of accusation.
Here we go again. He and his girlfriend were going to be the death of me. “I’ve been busy, Garrett—”
“Too busy to come to a show? Since when has that stopped you before?”
“Life happens, Garrett. I thought you’d understand that. I’m trying to get myself straight. I have a job writing. Sure it’s not Pulitzer material, but it’s a start. No more slinging coffee for this gal. I have to wear nice clothes and use some semblance of social skills and everything,” I joked.
“That’s awesome. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” And I knew he meant it. Garrett had always had my back. My best interests at heart. But there was a note of something else in his tone that he wasn’t making any effort to hide. “I know you’ve been through a tough time. I can also tell when there’s something else going on here. I know you and I know when you’re hiding something. I’ve seen it before, don’t forget.”
Yeah, he had to go there. I winced at the implication even if it was totally deserved.
I was quiet for a long time, not sure what to say. How do you find the words to admit that you no longer felt like part of a group that you had once belonged to? I didn’t want to tell him that I felt like an outsider. I wouldn’t whine and feel sorry for myself either.
And I certainly didn’t want to admit to Garrett—or anyone— that I couldn’t stomach the sight of Mitch and Sophie. I wanted to try to ignore the pain in the center of my chest that flared to life whenever I saw Mitch hug his girlfriend and kiss her mouth tenderly.
Seeing them forced me to face how monumentally I had screwed up. It made me face how I had thrown away my chance at a happily ever after.
All because I had been scared and too miserable to see what was right in front of my face.
Love.
So I didn’t want to think about how much I missed how our Fresh Prince of Bel Air binges—and yes we’d sing along to the theme song over and over again—or how every time Mitch put gas in his car he made sure to buy me a Baby Ruth candy bar just because they were my favorite.
And I certainly didn’t want to think about how in a room full of people he had always been my safe place. He never left my side and I hadn’t wanted him to.
Mitch’s arm was slung casually around my shoulders. I leaned into him, appreciating the warm solidity.
I was tired. My head hurt. I felt sick from the inside out. It had been less than a month since I had almost died and I still felt hollow and empty.
And I craved a drink so badly I thought I’d go insane.
“My parents are telling me I have to go to rehab,” I whispered, almost scared to raise my voice even though we were alone in my parents’ house.
We were cuddled up together on the couch, the TV on in the background, neither of us watching it even though our favorite show, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, was on. Mitch had been sitting with me for hours, neither of us really saying anything. There was just something about his quiet, strong presence that healed parts of me that had been broken for a long, long time.