Page 8 of Be Your Somebody
My mind drifts back toward the dream. Despite everything that's happened over the last three months, I can still feel how we moved together in a choreographed dance like a phantom pain. Traces of her lavender-vanilla scented skin still lingers in my nose. The ghost of her touch whispers like the wind against my skin and I yearn for the comfort only she can provide me. The sound of her melodic laughter fading to black is a haunting reminder that she isn't here. That she wants nothing to do with me. And why would she? I’m not who she wants. I’m not who she needs.
The soft click of the car door shutting startles me from my internal dialogue.
Home.
I'm finally back home.
So why am I not more excited? My eyes glance over toward the house next door, knowing full well it's the reason for my melancholy demeanor.That her absence is the reason for this void in the pit of my stomach. I know I need to move, get out of the now freezing car, but I'm stuck. My eyes are glued onto Avery's house, with hope swirling in my heart. Hope that she'll come sprinting toward me like she did when she was eight, and leap into my arms. Five minutes go by, then ten, but nothing happens. Her silence feels like a baseball bat to the windshield, shattering my fragile hope like glass beneath my feet. I rub at the ever-growing ache within my chest and force myself out of the car and head toward the house.
The hairs on the back of my neck standing up is my first clue that something doesn’t feel right. My entire body feels itchy. It’s like someone is watching me.Cas, you’re just being paranoid.I turn around, scanning the street, only to find nothing. Even though I can’t see anyone watching me, my heart rate doesn’t return to a healthy pulse. I quicken my pace, practically running towards the front door. The second I hear the lock click, my back hits the door and I work on calming my racing heart.
My mind is a chaotic mess and a full-blown debate is happening in my brain. One voice tells me to keep fighting. The other says to give up. How can I see Avery every day and not have my heart crushed into a million pieces? Is it worth all of the heartache? Is she worth all of the suffering? I scratch that last question from my mind because I know the answer already. Avery is—and will always be—worth it. I just need to make her believe that this time is different.
I need to see her and have this long overdue conversation, but I’m in a losing game with exhaustion. I crawl into bed, hoping a nap will help me feel re-energized so I can talk to her. I close my eyes, intending to sleep for thirty minutes, but when I wake up, it's the following day, feeling emotionally drained.
Chapter 6
Cassidy
In a long-term relationship with loneliness
TodayI’mtalkingtoAvery about the letter. My body thrums with nervous energy, my arms and legs tingle as if ants are crawling all over my body.
My eyes fall to where it sits on my dresser and my heart feels like a stampede of horses. Despite its emotional heaviness, I reach for the envelope and head downstairs. The sweet scent of chocolate chip pancakes assaults my nose and my mouth begins to water. My grandmother tries to get me to eat, but my stomach is too queasy with anxiety. She glances down at my hand, and when her eyes land on my face, she gives me an encouraging smile and practically pushes me out the door.
I fill my lungs with the crisp January air, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest. The wind tousles my hair, forcing me to brush the stray tendrils away from my face continually. I’m halfway down my driveway when I notice Avery talking and laughing with Bri on her porch. She’s truly captivating.
Sadness is a bowling ball barreling toward me, looking to knock down its pins. Seeing Avery’s face light up has emotion weighing heavy in my throat. I sprint back to my house before she notices me. As much as it hurts, it might be best to keep my distance for now.
My gram looks at me with confusion at my sudden reappearance. “That was either the quickest conversation known to man, or you didn’t talk to her.” Her words are the arrow and my heart is the target. They hit me exactly where it hurts the most.
“I- I couldn't do it. When I saw her outside, smiling and laughing I just couldn't. I don't want to be the reason for her unhappiness.”
“Oh honey, I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you to see her. But you two have gone through so much together. I don’t see you not being in each other’s lives. Please don’t give up.” My throat threatens to constrict, so I just nod my head.
My mind is a hamster running at full speed on its wheel and my body feels as if it’s on fire. In desperate need for air, I sprint past my grandmother and out the backdoor. It's a typical winter day in the suburbs of Chicago. The sun may be shining, but damn, the wind has a bite. My feet lead me past the dock between mine and Avery’s house. A smile spreads across my face when I remember all the ridiculous names for jumps we would make up before entering the water. I don’t let myself linger on those memories for too long, not wanting to break my heart even further.
Loneliness and I have been in a long-term relationship for years. It likes to control my life, often making me feel isolated, even when surrounded by people who love me. I have Frank to thank for that. Life with him was never easy, with him choosing to get high rather than parent me. If Frank had his way, he would have kept pounding into me. My grandparents eventually intervened, freeing me from the shackles that tied me to my father. Despite their unconditional love and affection, I still had invisible ankle weights of emotional pain weighing me down. Pain that I continuously ignored, which in turn led me down the same path as myfather.
I shake the mental cobwebs in my brain and focus on the nature-made ice rink before me. Despite looking solid enough to skate on, that is not the case. Especially when accidentally falling through the ice at twelve-years-old. My body shivers just thinking about it, but it’s still a positive memory because Avery and I drank our weight in hot chocolate that day.
The sound of the snow crunching beneath my feet echoes around me. Nature's music comes from the birds chirping and trees dancing in the breeze. As I stand, I force myself to deal with my feelings. If running from your feelings was an Olympic sport, I’d take home the gold year after year. People were a distraction, a perfect way to tune out the feedback in my head.
Using drugs freed me from my mental prison. Now that I'm sober, the years of avoidance are coming back to bite me in the ass. The thoughts I used to run from are now as loud as banshees in my mind.
I have done some fucked up shit, and most of it revolves around the one person I never wanted to hurt. Avery was the one person I could always connect with. She was able to break down a good chunk of my walls, but I never let her all the way in. If she saw the real me, she’d abandon me like everyone else seemed to.
Seeing her today reminds me of the familiar sense of safety. It took about two seconds for my inner demons to ruin it by reminding me how reckless I was with her. Watching her smile felt like a punch to the gut. I desperately want to be the reason for her happiness. Damn it, I need to talk to her. I’m scared she’ll laugh at me or slam the door in my face. But I need to try, at least. I go back home with a renewed sense of determination to get Avery back into my life.
Early Spring, 2023
It's been months since my failed attempt at talking to Avery. My nerves are a knotted ball of yarn in my stomach, but it’s now or never. I get dressed as quickly as possible, holding onto the sliver of confidence that I’m clinging to. I look at the letter that's been sitting onmy dresser for months after my first attempt to talk to Avery. My hand hesitates briefly before grabbing it and heading out the door toward my fate.
With each step, my mind and body are tangled Christmas lights. It’s not until I'm standing on her front lawn that I notice my body is vibrating. I take a moment to compose myself by appreciating her house. Avery’s place reminds me of something straight out of a storybook, whereas my grandparents’ house is the typical suburban house. Leading up to her front porch is a cobblestone walkway colored with shades of gray and tan, with perfectly trimmed hedges lining the outside. Cream-colored paneling covers the exterior with a shingle-style roof in the color musket brown.
A string of fairy lights decorates along its edges and a large double door in the middle of the house is the same color as the roof. Like most houses on the block, Avery’s is open with an expansive front yard. The only significant difference is her front porch juts out farther than otherhouses on the block, giving her a more expansive view of the neighbors. The entire house feels as if it’s been transported right out of a fairytale, but what catches my eye is the gorgeous matte black fountain. It has a thousand pennies from all the years of throwing them in and making wishes.
Here goes nothing. The sound of the creaking gate zaps my system like a fly caught in an electric swatter. My breath comes out in quick, shaky puffs of air as I approach her front door. My knocking matches the frantic beating of my heart. It takes a moment for her to open it, but I'm completely taken aback by what I see when she does.
