Four Letter Word

Tears were falling steadily now. My body jerking with each cry-filled breath I took.

I could barely see.

It was dark. My makeup was running and hindering my sight and I was moving faster than my heels safely allowed.

I needed Tori.

Between a blink and a sniffle, I slammed straight into a wall of a chest, large and unmoving, not seeing it come out of nowhere if it did or maybe I ran at it unintentionally when I could’ve avoided it, I had no way of knowing.

I was dizzy with sadness. Pain and hurt and shock filled my veins and twisted my awareness.

The man didn’t speak. I didn’t either, because I couldn’t.

I fell, hand to mouth into him as his arms swallowed me up and his presence surrounded me then folded in, bringing me closer at the same time as I burrowed deeper and broke into a thousand tears.

It wasn’t awkward. I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Makeup smeared and saliva soaking. He didn’t seem to care.

He held on.

And I pressed closer.

Marcus ate my heart, piece by hope-filled piece during a five-minute phone call.

I couldn’t feel its beat anymore, and I was finding comfort in this stranger’s arms; his shape and smell and size became my security and safe place. I was taking what he gave and he was giving it selflessly, holding on as I held tighter, my one hand clutching his shirt as his soothed in slow movements up and down my spine.

The harder I cried, the firmer his hold became.

The more my body shook with sadness, the stronger he stood.

I never saw his face. I never even looked up.

I fell apart and he held me through it. Then I left him without uttering a word.

* * *

An hour later Tori and I were back at her place, even though the concert was still going strong and we both knew it wasn’t ending before midnight. It didn’t matter.

She saw my face when I got back under the pavilion, heard what Marcus did from my lips pressed to her ear, and ended our night.

Best friends knew when it was time to leave.

I told her I just wanted to be alone, that I needed the quiet of my bedroom and the warmth of my bed, promising we’d talk about everything tomorrow.

She agreed only after my promise, kissed my cheek, and cued up HBO after stretching out on the couch.

Bedroom door closed and best friend occupied, I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed Brian’s number.

There were several things motivating what I was about to do, but one thing stood out and rippled awareness over and under my skin. I couldn’t ignore it.

This was going to suck. Bad. There was no doubt in my mind. It was going to hurt, too.

Really bad.

But it had to be done.

“Wild,” Brian answered gently.

That was all I could take of his voice.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, lip quivering.

I heard his pull of breath and knew he was about to speak, protest, plea, and I couldn’t hear it so I kept going.

“I can’t keep hoping and holding out, waiting for you to give me what I need, Brian, because I’ll never stop waiting. You know? You said it yourself. You’re just a voice and that’s all you’ll ever be to me and I can’t, I’m not okay with that. I’ll never be okay with that little of you.”

“Send me pictures, Syd,” he begged urgently. “Okay? You wanna send me pictures, send them. Send one right now. I wanna see you.”

“This isn’t about the picture,” I stressed. “How many times have I asked where you live? Or if we could meet up? That’s what I want, Brian. I want to see you. I want to see how you smile and feel your hands against mine. I want to lie next to you and dream with you and I can’t. I’ll …I’ll never have that.”

“I lie next to you every night. Don’t you know that?”

I sobbed hard into my hand. My devoured heart reached for him.

“You got me, babe. Fuck …you’ve had me. When I was Wes, you had me.”

When he was Wes …

I wiped tears away and spoke through broken breaths.

“Tonight, you know what I did?” I asked. “I let some stranger hold me and comfort me and I let myself think it was you. I imagined your arms and your breath in my hair and it was perfect, it was exactly what I needed because I needed it to be you, Brian. But it wasn’t. It will never be you holding me or catching me. I’m gonna fall and you’re not gonna be there.”

“Syd …”

“No …No!” I dug my nails into my palm and held it at my side. “This is over. It’s over, Brian. Don’t call me again. Don’t text me. I won’t answer. I swear, I won’t.”

“Don’t do this,” he shot in, quiet and quick. “Please, Wild, don’t …don’t do this to me. To us.”

“You did this, Brian,” I shot back. “You did it, because I’m here. I’m right here, waiting, asking you for more like I’ve always asked you and I’m not gonna wait anymore.”

“Sydney …”

“Good-bye, Brian.”

“It was me!”

I blinked at the wall.

“What?”

“Holding you tonight,” he explained, voice tight and anxious and filled with desperate, lying words. “It was me. Okay? It was me. No one else holds you.”

I shook my head.

He wanted to believe it, too. Too bad that wasn’t enough.

“Don’t call me again,” I whispered.