Chapter Twenty-Five
Jordan
Day two: post-Mia…
“Jordan.”
Dad knocks on my door.
I ignore him. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.
The only one I want to keep company with is the one who understands my pain best – Dozer. He’s missing Mia as much as I am.
I hear the door open.
“Go away,” I mumble into my pillow.
Dozer lifts his head, looks up, then lays back down.
“You really need to open the window, let some air in. It stinks in here,” Dad says, ignoring me.
“I like the stink.”
Truth is, I don’t want to open the window in case the fresh air takes the scent of Mia from my bedding, disappearing just like she has from my life.
“You really need to leave this room, Jordan.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s been two days. This isn’t healthy. Let’s go to the movies or something.”
I tilt my head, moving my mouth from the pillow. “Not in the mood.”
“Well, can you at least consider taking a shower because the stench in this room isn’t Dozer, it’s you.”
“I’ll shower when I’m ready.” I press my face back into the pillow.
“Look, son. I know you’re hurting right now, but it will get better.”
I snort. Then get another lung full of Mia. It makes my chest burn.
“I have been through this myself … when I was younger. With Belle—”
My muscles knot. I lift my head. “I don’t want to talk about her right now.”
“I know you’re angry with your mom—”
I roll onto my back. “Angry doesn’t ever come close … I just … I don’t understand her. Why she did what she did.”
He sighs. “I didn’t either. But it’s not for us to judge. We weren’t there. We don’t know where her mind was at, or how limited she felt her choices were.”
“I just wish…” I sigh. “I just wish Mia could see the bigger picture. I wish she … I don’t know what I fuckin’ wish!” I throw my hands up in the air, feeling helpless.
What I want is to not feel this way. Like I’m fucking dying – slowly.
I turn over, putting my back to him.
“You wish she’d see past it and come back.”
Tears sting my eyes. “It’s too late now. She’s gone.”
“It’s never too late. You know how Belle broke up with me after high school, when she’d left for college. I was pretty much like you are now. I was low and didn’t want to talk to anyone. I guess I was lovesick. I just wanted to reach her … so I wrote her a letter and made her a mix-tape.”
I let out a small laugh. My first in days. “That’s pretty lame, Dad.”
“Yeah, it was.” He runs his hand over his hair, smiling lightly.
“Did you hear from her after you sent the letter and tape?”
He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t hear from her until she came back after I’d had you.”
I sit up, back against the headboard. “So you’re saying I should write Mia a letter and make her a lame ass mix-tape when it didn’t even work for you. Mom married someone else and didn’t come back to you for years.”
“No, it didn’t work for me … not right away. Doesn’t mean it won’t for you. But I’m telling you this because whether it worked in a day, or years later – it worked. She never got rid of that letter and tape, Jordan. She kept them for all those years. She never let me go, not fully. And when she needed help … needed me most, that’s how she knew she could come back. That letter and tape reminded her that she could. Reminded her of what we once had. That I’d always be there for her, no matter what.”
He gets to his feet and pats Dozer’s leg. “Come on, boy, it’s feeding time.”
Dozer climbs down from the bed, standing by Dad’s legs.
“Just think about it. You’ve nothing to lose by reaching out to her. Write and tell her everything she doesn’t think she wants to hear, but needs to. Tell her how you feel.”
“Basically make a fool of myself.”
“Men generally are fools in love.”
“Yeah, well I’d definitely look a fool if I send her a lame ass mix-tape.” I know I’m stepping out of line and he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m feeling bitter and angry, and I don’t want to be alone in my pain.
“Well, I think it’d be a mixed CD for you, son, or even an iPod if you’re feeling flashy, as they don’t make tapes anymore.”
I give him a look and a grunt.
Yeah, I’ve turned back into a fully-fledged teenager.
“Look, son, all I’m saying is, music can evokes memories and feelings. It can enhance those words you write to her. It’s just knowing which memories you want to trigger, what words you want her to hear, and which song will do that for you.”
He leaves my room with Dozer, his words lingering long after he’s gone.
***
Day three: post-Mia…
“Jeez … you’re listening to Damien Rice. This is worse than I thought.” Beth drops down onto my bed beside me.
“Can’t you people just leave me the fuck alone?” I pull the duvet over my head.
Beth pulls it off and sniffs the air. “It smells really bad in here, did you know?”
“I’ve been told.”
“I don’t think its Dozer.” She leans over and sniffs me. “Jesus Christ! It’s you – you smelly bastard! When was the last time you showered, or brushed your teeth?”
“At three o’ fuck off a clock.”
“Funny.” She pokes me in the back. “So to what extent am I going to have to annoy you to get you out of this bed and into the shower? Or at least get you to visit with a toothbrush?”
“You’re already annoying me and it doesn’t look like I’m moving, does it?”
“Come on, stinky breath.” She tickles my side.
I push her hand off. “Beth, seriously, knock it off. I’m not in the mood.”
Her silence has me feeling guilty. “Look … I’m just not up for company right now.”
“But I brought your favorite pie – Key Lime.” I can practically see her pout from here. “And some movies with tons of action, killing bad guys, all that gory type shit you like. I even think a chick gets blown up in one, or at the very least she gets her ass kicked.”
I twist my neck to look at her. “Watching a chick get her ass kicked? That’s how you intend on cheering me up?”
“Hey, I’m no expert. I’m just doing what my best friend did for me a few years ago when my heart got ripped in two.”
I roll onto my back and look at her, remembering how I sat in Beth’s room with her for a day and a half straight after that bitch Monica Teller had broken her heart.
Beth was crazy about her—kind of how I am for Mia.
And that bitch Monica told Beth she was in it with her too, wanted to be with her, but when it came down to it, she was too chicken shit to tell her religious folks that she was a lesbian, so she dumped Beth and married the douche they wanted her to marry.
Beth cried for a week straight after Monica got married.
And now she’s here, trying to help me like I did for her.
I feel a pang in my chest for my best friend. Sitting up, I take her face in my hands and kiss her forehead. “Thanks, Beth.”
“Eww! At least use mouthwash or something before you kiss me. I could catch cooties from that days old breath!”
I chuckle, climbing from the bed and turn my iPod off, silencing Damien Rice.
“Get the bitch ass-kicking movie ready while I take a shower.” Reaching the bathroom door, I pull my t-shirt off and toss it in the laundry basket.
“Beth?”
“Hmm.”
“You know how much you mean to me, right? That you’re not just my best friend, you’re like my sister?”
She glances at me, smiling. “Are you getting all emotional on me, Matthews?”
I shrug. “Maybe. A little. I just wanted you to know that I love you is all.” I close the door on her shocked expression.
Beth knows I love her, I’ve just never told her before now. It felt good to say, and kind of awesome to see the happy it put on her face.
I make a mental note to tell her more often from here on now.
I guess I have Mia to thank for opening this up in me. She got me feeling again … maybe more than ever before.
***
“I thought there was no romance in this movie?” I complain, licking the pie off my fingers.
Fuck that was some good pie.
Beth grabs the case, reading over the back. “It said there wasn’t. Just, and I quote, ‘plenty of high action ass-kicking’.
“Well the only ass-kicking going on right now is from her stilettos, digging in his ass while he screws her.”
“I guess maybe sex isn’t classed as romance nowadays.” Beth tosses the case to the floor and tilts her head at an angle, watching the two getting it on, on screen. “Seriously, I’ll never understand a woman who likes cock.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s because you’ve never had it.”
She look across at me grinning. “And I intend on keeping it that way, thank you very much.”
“I wasn’t offering.”
She jabs me in the arm.
“You hit like a girl.”
“I am a girl.” She folds her arms.
I look back to the TV. They’ve finally finished going at it, but now we’re into the post coital bliss where they’re cuddled up in bed.
Fucking excellent. Just what I want to see. A happy couple together.
I grit my teeth, thinking of Mia in my arms. How soft and warm her body felt against mine.
I miss her.
Jesus.
I close my eyes on the ache in my chest.
“This movie sucks,” I grind out.
“The movie does suck, you’re right, but it’s not the movie that’s bothering you.”
I let out a resigned breath. “I miss her.” I open my eyes and turn my head to look at Beth. “Is it fucked up that I miss her this much after knowing her for such a short time?”
“No. Who’s to determine what’s wrong or right. You feel what you feel. Time is irrelevant in my opinion. And I’m always right, before you have a comeback.”
I can’t muster the energy to find a comeback. And honestly, I think she’s right. Though I’d never tell her that.
I glance back at the TV, drumming my fingers on my thigh.
“Dad thinks I should write Mia a letter,” I say quietly.
Beth sits up, putting herself in my eye line, blocking my view of the TV. “I think that’s a really good idea.”
“And he also said I should send her a mixed CD.”
A grins slides across her face. “Okay, so maybe leave the mixed CD out of it. What would you say in the letter?”
Sliding down the bed so I’m flat on my back, I rest my arm over my eyes. “I don’t know…” I shrug. “I guess I’d tell her that I miss her. That it’s getting harder and harder to breathe without her. For every day she’s gone … every day that I don’t get to see her face or hear her voice, takes me a step closer to insanity.” I hear the break in my voice, and it stops me talking.
I swallow past the pain.
Beth lies down beside me and rests her head on my shoulder.
“I think you should write her a letter saying exactly that.” She sniffles.
“Are you crying?”
“Of course I’m fucking crying! I’m a girl, aren’t I?”
Trust Beth to find the way to make me smile through the pain.
***
Day seven: post-Mia…
I seal the envelope. The envelope that contains the letter that’s taken me four fucking days to write. If you saw the letter, you’d be confused as to why it took me four days to write.
Basically, the letter is shit. Because I can’t write for shit.
And that’s the reason for the CD inside this envelope.
Yeah, I’ve become that guy.
The kind of guy that makes a CD with one song on it to tell the girl he loves how he feels.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I lost my balls ages ago. I figured it out when I couldn’t get out of bed for three days over Mia leaving me.
So now me and my ball-less self is hoping that this song will tell her everything I’m failing to. Worst case, she’ll think I’m lame and laugh her ass off, and I’ll never hear from her again. But one thing I know for sure; whenever she hears this song, she’ll always think of me, because there are a handful of songs that I can’t listen to now without thinking of her. The first time I heard her singing in my car to that Taylor Swift song that I hate, but now listen to all the time … and the Will.i.am song that was playing the first time I kissed her.
Dad was right when he said music evokes memories.
This song might not evoke her memory, but it will tell her where I’m at right now, and hopefully bring her back to me. And that hope is all I’ve got left now.
I take a deep breath and drop the envelope in the mailbox.