Page 55 of Where You Are
He turns and faces me. “Bad day?”
I nod gently, closing my eyes and focusing on the feel of the warm breeze blowing loose strands of my hair around my face.
“I called home,” I fill in, tossing out a bone. “It was a little intense.”
He nods and is quiet for a minute before taking in a breath.
“I want to help,” he finally voices, a hint of uncertainty in his tone, which isn’t surprising. Expressing himself isn’t his forte.
I nod with a sigh. “In your own asshole way, you do.” I finish with a smirk, trying to keep this on the lighter side, even though I feel far from it.
He chuckles. “I left the States because I couldn’t take existing in a place Jamie wasn’t. I needed to go someplace where there wasn’t any trace of her to hurt me. This place is my own personal limbo; halfway between Heaven and Hell.”
His words are like an ice-cold knife plunging into my gut. I hurt for Ben and what he must have been going through the last few years, yet it also kills me how much I commiserate. He couldn’t have described the way this beautiful place clashes with my state of mind any better.
“I’ve had women try to get close to me,” Ben continues, “to get me to open up, hoping I’ll be that story they can tell to their friends when they get home, about the broody boat captain that was so closed off but they got to spend some magical time with on their vacation.”
He’s never shared this much before so I stay quiet, afraid if I comment it will make him snap out of it and clam up again. Clearly he needs to get this out to someone after God knows how long of keeping it pent up.
“But with you… I could tell by the way you just threw it all right back at me that you were someone I could possibly relate to after all that time of not wanting to. I feel good with you Melanie, like I finally want to rejoin the land of the living.”
His proclamation takes me by surprise. His voice still holds his usual lack of emotion, and I can tell his words took some effort, but he still feels them nonetheless. He turns to me, and what his voice is missing can be found in his eyes in volumes. They remind me of the way my brother’s looked when we lost our mom. So lost, and searching for what to do next.
His other hand comes up to cup my cheek, stroking his thumb across it as his eyes hesitantly wander between my eyes and my lips. I know what’s coming. And while I hadn’t even thought of the possibility of moving on with someone else before, in this moment, I realize that I don’t want my last kiss with Matt to be erased by one with someone else. At least not yet. Even if Matt has moved on from me, the fact that the last lips to touch mine were his feels sacred.
Just as Ben closes in, bringing his mouth close to mine, I dip my head and regretfully close my eyes. Ben stalls his movements for only a split second before continuing forward, allowing his intended kiss to rest on my forehead and linger for a few beats.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, afraid to bring my eyes up to his. He carefully releases me and lifts a shoulder.
“You’ve got a broken heart,” he states out loud as he steps away, not out of spite, but to give me breathing room. After I rejected his kiss, it astounds me that he’s still being considerate of my feelings. He puts both hands in his pockets and turns to gaze at the water. I follow his lead and do the same, crossing my arms around myself.
“It was a year ago,” I muse out loud. “I should probably be over it,” I add, scoffing at myself in disbelief. It’s been a long time, and while the pain has dulled somewhat, when I think of being with someone new, I just can’t see it. I can’t get my head around it. I know I shouldn’t hold myself back when from what I’ve seen of Matt, he hasn’t. But here I am, somehow unable to take the leap.
“That’s for no one to decide but you,” Ben says firmly but without being harsh, and I chance a look up at him. “Absolutely no one has been in your situation but you.” He turns his face to me. “No one has felt exactly what you’ve felt, and no one but you gets to decide how you put yourself back together. Everyone is different,” he says, turning back to the water.
I stand next to him in awkward silence, letting his words sink in. He has a point; I just wish he didn’t. I wish I wasn’t still carrying this torch. But it’s still there. The love I felt for Matt never left me; it’s still inside me burning bright as ever.
“Have you loved anyone since Jamie?” I ask, cautiously.
“No,” he answers softly before looking at me again. “In four years, I haven’t even warmed up to anyone. Not until tonight anyway.” He gives a resigned smirk as he turns away again, and I feel a pang in the pit of my stomach at the thought that I turned him down the first time he tried to make a romantic connection with someone. I open my mouth and take a breath to speak, but he stops me.
“No,” he says with that firmness again, but there’s a trace of humor pulling at the sides of his mouth. “Don’t even.” He holds his arm out, gesturing me to come in for a side hug. I step into him and allow him to sling it around me and I’m immediately relieved when I don’t feel any romance or intimacy behind it. It’s just caring, compassionate, and secure; like he’s sending the message that we’re okay. We can carry on as friends and be there for each other. And it’s good, like one of the millions of pieces of my heart just got put back where it belongs.
MATT
Fall has rolled in, and once again, I’m relieved to be back on tour. Even if there isn’t much to do on the bus, just being in motion makes me feel like I’m not just standing still, waiting for the next part of my life to happen, the part where I get over the past year and start feeling happiness and contentment once again. While focusing on writing and being productive has sure as hell helped, it’s starting to get mundane; redundant. I take pleasure in the fact that while we play the same set in every city, every show we do is different. The crowd and the way they and the band and I feed off each other is unpredictable at every single stop, and it’s refreshing.
Eli has arranged various appearances for us between shows on the tour, and I have to say it’s seriously amping up interest in the new album. He touches base through conference calls to get our okay on a certain event that might be happening in a city that we will be hitting, and he’s such a damn likeable guy. He’s really comfortable talking to us and treating us like we’re his buddies, which makes it easy to agree to certain appearances, even if we are dog tired. The problem with that is it’s also sending up some red flags. Specifically, he’s been making Mayzie uncomfortable. While it’s okay for him to get chummy with us, Jack doesn’t like how cozy the guy tries to get with his wife.
It’s the subject Jack and I are addressing one morning on the bus over coffee. The night before, Eli decided to bypass calling us and showed up after the show to deliver some exciting news: we’ll be playing the Superbowl halftime show. It’s a milestone we thought we were still so far off from, and I don’t think any of our heads have stopped spinning.
What I’m trying to help Jack figure out now however, is how to proceed with our professional relationship with this magic-making agent of ours. He apparently gave Jack and Mayzie the apology of the century last night for the looks he’s been giving her and the inappropriate comments he’s made. Supposedly it came with the utmost sincerity and heavy reassurance that he meant nothing by it other than feeling comfortable enough to joke around with her, and while Mayzie is buying it, Jack’s hackles are all the way up. It’s a tricky situation as we’re only six months into a two-year contract with his company.
“I think we should definitely tell Ron,” I suggest, before I take a sip of my coffee that’s turned luke-warm.
“Okay, yeah,” Jack concedes into his cup before looking up and locking eyes with me. “And I don’t want Eli alone with her. Ever.”
“Agreed,” I promise, solemnly.