The Beginning of Us (170 page)

He wants more out of our relationship than I do; he’s told me that much. If it were up to him, we’d been “doin it like bunnies” – his words, not mine, and we’d only come up for air and food. I’m not there yet – not sure that I’ll ever be. I mean, we’ve done pretty much everything, but – well, you know. He’s sweet and kind and funny as hell, but I just can’t bring myself to love him. And if I don’t love him, I know for certain that I can’t give myself to him. I’m not super conservative or anything like that – I certainly don’t oppose premarital sex. That’s not why I won’t sleep with him. I just don’t love him, and I think if you’re going to give someone your body, you need to be in love with them. If that makes me too conservative, then oh, well.

After Melanie is done styling her hair, she comes into the bedroom and lets out a long, loud wolf whistle.

“Damn, girl! You look hot!” Her words prompt a heated blush to my cheeks. “Quit your blushing, Maddy. One day you will realize just how beautiful you are. I don’t mean to sound shallow, but do you think you could land a guy like Jay if you were anything less than beautiful?”

“Yeah, I guess so, Mel. I just don’t see it, but find me any teenage girl who sees her own beauty. I’ll get there one day, maybe.” Even I can hear the lack of conviction in my own words. I know I’m not completely unfortunate-looking, but I just don’t feel beautiful. I never had that mother-daughter bonding time; she never had the chance to teach me how to put on makeup and dress to my advantage. So I had to figure it all out on my own. I’m still figuring it out.

As Melanie steps out of the room to let Momma C know our plans for the evening, I steal a glimpse in the mirror to try to see what Melanie sees.

Legs? Check. I am five foot seven, after all. They’re slender but not too skinny. I run every morning, so my legs have always been slightly muscled, but in a feminine way – at least I hope they look feminine; bulky is not a word I’d want someone to use. I think the not too short, but short enough to still be very stylish, pleated and thickly cuffed navy blue shorts show my legs off nicely. My cork and white wedges with a cute little bow at each ankle are the perfect finishing touch. A simple dove-gray ribbed tank completes the outfit and hugs my curves. Maybe there is something to Mel’s theory after all.

My golden-blonde hair is sun-kissed in the summer, and its soft waves cascade to the middle of my back. I usually have it up, but tonight Melanie insisted that I leave it down and wavy. I let her play Barbie, and I can’t say I hate it. The real show-stopper, though, is my eyes. They’re a bright, vibrant green. They look almost fake, but as I lean into the mirror to get a closer look, I catch small little flecks of gold around the outside that I know no contact lens could replicate. I have always loved my eyes. I have my mother’s eyes. I’ve seen them in the few pictures I have from my childhood. Even if my eyes were the murkiest, dingiest, dullest brown, I still would have loved them, as long as they were my mother’s. It’s really the only thing I have left of her.

I gave in on the hair and let Melanie have a field day, but I insisted on keeping my makeup simple – a soft pale pink blush, clear lip gloss, and a light dusting of gold eye shadow is all I need. A quick swipe of some mascara, and the look is complete.

Okay, so Melanie’s theory definitely has some merit. I do look hot. Maybe it was the emotionally cathartic cry before with Momma C and Mel that has me feeling a bit lighter, but I really feel great tonight. I know not everything is perfect in my life -- God, do I know that better than anyone -- but I feel a change coming on.

*****

We park Aunt Maggie’s old beat-up Honda Civic and make our way down to the lake. The guys have already got the bonfire going, and the flames are licking toward the night sky. Everyone is lounging around the fire – they haven’t gotten their drink on yet. I’m not a big drinker, never have been. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought about it – numb the pain and all, but I just don’t see the point in it. The alcohol-induced haze will wear off eventually; unfortunately, the pain is forever.

There’s some loud rock music pumping bass out of someone’s car. I vaguely recognize the lyrics to Fun’s “We Are Young”
as I walk toward the group. The girls, Katie, Julia, and Lyndsay, are already up and dancing. Mel joins them, and I make my way over to Jay.

“Hey, babe! Wow, you look….um… wow… yeah, you look good tonight.” He manages to get that out before planting a sweet, soft kiss on my cheek. He knows I’m not one for PDAs.

“Thanks, Jay. You always say the sweetest things.”

He seems a bit out of it – distracted, but I’m not sure by what. “Wanna take a walk? It’s a bit quieter down by the water.”

Yeah, definitely distracted. His normal cool confidence is completely absent as he grabs my hand and brings me down by the water’s edge.

“What’s up, Jay? You seem a bit off tonight. Is something wrong?”

“If you consider that my girl is leaving here in two days and she won’t give me an answer as to where we’ll stand when she does, then yeah, I’m off a bit.” Cool and confident just completely walked out the door, and in walked angry and hurt.

“Jay, we talked about this. I just don’t think long distance will work. Why can’t we stay friends and just see how it goes? We’ve only been together a few months. It’s not even anything serious.”

Exit angry and hurt, and enter pissed off. “It’s not serious?! Really, Maddy, is that how you feel about us? I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel about you for a while now, but every time I bring it up, you change the subject, push me away. Okay, fine – it’s only been a few months, but in my heart it feels like more than that.”

His tone has changed again, and I can tell he’s trying to shut down the “pissed off.” He’s being sweet and romantic. I have a giant soft spot for him when he’s like this. I may not be in love with him, but he definitely has a piece of my heart.

He nestles my hand inside his and pulls us down to the sand. We sit looking out at the shimmering water for what seems like an eternity. Neither of us wants to break the silence, yet ironically we both start talking at the same time.

“You go first,” I tell him.

“No, Maddy, you first. Please talk to me.”

His sweet words are too much to hear. I know I’m going to break his heart, but I can’t do this any longer.

“I’m sorry, Jay. Really, I am. I didn’t mean to push you away or change the subject. We do need to talk about us. I guess I’m just afraid. It’s scary thinking about moving away from here and starting over again in a few days.”

“But, Maddy, that’s why I’m here. I…ah, shit there’s no easy way to say this, because I’m just so afraid of scaring you away, but I love you. I’ve known for a while now, but I know you wanted to take things slowly and I’ve been trying to, really I have. But you’re just so sweet and funny and, goddamn, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

My chest constricts, and I just can’t get oxygen into my lungs. Jay notices the shocked look in my eyes. He cups my face with his palms and gently rubs my cheeks with his thumbs.

“Maddy, I love you. I want to be with you. Tonight, and when you leave. I don’t want us to break up.” His plea is so painful to hear because just a few minutes ago I was ready to take this conversation down a completely different path.

He takes my silence as a cue to move forward. He leans his face toward mine, and I’m too shocked by his revelations to move even an inch. His mouth slants over mine in a sweet and innocent way. His tongue dances along my lips, begging permission to deepen the kiss. I grant it, not because I want to go further, but because I know this will be our last kiss.

He moves one of his hands around to cup the back of my head and pulls me closer. His tongue dances around my mouth, and mine meets his stroke for stroke. It’s intense, maybe the most passionate kiss we’ve ever shared. But we’re both getting lost in it for two entirely different reasons, and that’s enough to make me pull back. When I do, he gazes into my eyes. His are hooded and lust filled. I feel terrible, but I have to say this.

I place my hands on his chest, not to caress, but to put some more distance between us. “Jay, I can’t be with you. I’m not in love with you. Honestly, I can’t even say that I want to be in love. You’re kind and sweet and a great guy, but I just can’t. I’m sorry, Jay, but we can’t be together anymore.”

My words paralyze him. He mutters out something that sounds remotely like “fuck,” but his jaw is clenched so tightly that it’s difficult to make out. Exit sweet and romantic; make room for REALLY PISSED!

Slamming his fists into the sand, he makes me jump back a little. The force behind his words makes me shudder even more. “What the fuck, Madeleine! Why the fuck not? What the fuck is your problem? I should have seen this coming. You never want to talk to me. You’ve never opened up. Fuck, we barely even see each other anymore. Here I am opening my heart to you, telling you I want you, that I want us, and you’re just being a bitch about the whole thing. You know what? Fine, have it your fucking way. We’re done. Go off into your own little world and leave me here.” He stalks off and begins pacing along the shoreline.

When I catch up to him, he’s staring off into space, thinking about God-knows-what. I try to grab for his hand, to offer him what little comfort I can, but he pulls away the second he feels my fingers brush up against his.

He takes a step back, and the blistering look in his eyes knocks me off-kilter a little. “You know what, Maddy? I take back what I said earlier. I don’t love you. I could never love someone as cold-hearted and as shut-down as you are.” He doesn’t scream this. That would have been easier to understand. His words are barely a whisper – a venomous, hurtful whisper. I visibly cringe at them, and the tears that I so desperately did not want to shed are definitely going to make an appearance.

The tears are quickly followed by sobs – gut-wrenching, chest-heaving sobs. I sink down to the sand and cover my face. I’m crying because I’ve hurt Jay, but more so because I hurt. Just when I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could start to feel better about my life, it all comes crashing down around me. I know I don’t love Jay, but not loving him makes me feel like I’m never going to love anyone. If I can’t love someone like him, then I am broken beyond repair.

Jay stands in front of me, deathly still. It takes him a few minutes to find his voice, but when I look up at him, I see him trying to catch his breath through his tears. He sinks down beside me and turns my face to his.

“You broke my heart, Maddy. I hope one day I’ll get over it, but I love you, and it’s because I love you that I’ll say this. You deserve love. You are not broken and empty like you think you are.” He places his finger over my lips as I try to interrupt him and wipes the tears from my eyes, intent on finishing his “Maddy is worth loving” speech.

“You are. Now let me finish. I know losing your parents was difficult and that, in a lot of ways, you’re still reeling from it, but it will never get better until you let it get better. You have to let them go and move on with your life. I know that you deserve to be loved. And for fuck’s sake, I was so hopeful that I would be the one deserving enough of the honor to do so, but I’m not. I just hope that one day you realize you deserve it -- that one day you’ll be able to let love in.”

He stands up and grabs my hand to pull me up with him. The sobs have stopped, and I wipe the tears away. I want to say something, but I don’t have the right words – what would the right words even be at this point?

“Jay, I’m sorry. Really, I am.” Yup, that’s all I can come up with. He’s all sweet and heartfelt, and I’m all lame and feeble.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m a big boy -- I’ll deal. Let’s head back to the group and enjoy the rest of the night.”

“ Okay. That sounds like a plan.” Lame and feeble – that’s me.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur, mostly because everyone else is
more than slightly intoxicated.  Mel and I were able to steal away for a few minutes so I could fill her in on what happened with Jay. She wasn’t surprised. She knew my issues. She knew them better than anyone. She told me that she understood how I felt, but she also agreed with Jay – all that crap that I was deserving of love and that I’ve got to stop shutting down.

Mel’s theory was proven right earlier in the night. Maybe I should follow her advice on this front as well.

Chapter 3

I wanted a do-over, and a do-over is what I’m getting. Okay, granted, I am never going to get my parents back, but a fresh start is definitely on the horizon. After Jay and I broke up and Mel and I had an even deeper heart-to-heart later that night, I made a few promises to myself. They’re very simple promises, but ones that I hope will wipe the slate clean.

1. Choose happy.
   
2. Appreciate beauty.
   
3. Let love in.
   

Like I said, simple, refreshingly simple.

Melanie and I moved into our college dorm suite yesterday, and even though it was beyond difficult to say goodbye to Momma C, it was so thrilling and exciting to be on our own. Our suite mates also moved in yesterday. They are awesome. Beyond awesome, actually. Lia and Camryn are cousins. They’re also sophomores, so we didn’t just get kickass roommates, we got built-in tour guides, too. Our suite is kickass as well. Actually, I wouldn’t even call it a suite; it’s an apartment. Melanie and I share a room, and Lia and Cammie share the other. They’re not small rooms, either -- there’s more than enough room for a bed, desk, dresser, and full closet for each of us. We share a common living area that the college furnished so it’s kind of boring, but after we all added our own personal touches, it really felt like home. There’s a modest kitchen area – an apartment-sized stove and fridge. The sink is nestled in a small length of pale blue Formica countertop that forms an L-shaped breakfast bar opposite the appliances. It’s not high-tech or anything like that, but it’s functional, and for the first time ever, it’s mine – really and truly mine. This is the first time in my life that I’ve actively chosen to live somewhere -- that I’ve actually felt comfortable enough to put my personal stamp on it.