West’s defeated sigh is a prelude to the look of disappointment that I’m certain adorns his face, but I wouldn’t know, because I don’t look up from the cookies and cream cupcake batter. I keep stirring and stirring, mixing and folding, even when I sense him rummaging around the kitchen, sifting through the refrigerator, and poking inside cabinets.
A few minutes later, I hear him retreat with a hollow goodbye. “I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. See you.”
When the front door closes and my brother is gone, I finally release the mixer and lift my eyes from my task. I swallow down a lump when I spot the peanut butter and banana sandwich sitting atop a paper plate, cut diagonally just how I like it, paired with a glass of cold milk.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the empty kitchen before picking the mixer back up and drowning myself in cupcake orders.
I keep working.
I keep going.
I keep myself busy to the point of exhaustion, because if I don’t burn out… I’ll burn away.
And that seems infinitely worse.
I’m just as surprised as West and his friends when I stroll into the brewery that night with Leah’s arm linked through mine. It was a last-minute decision after a black cloud decided to infiltrate me, all sharp teeth and long talons, and even reruns of Veronica Mars couldn’t pull me out of the funk.
I definitely look the most homeless out of everyone in the bar, with my petite frame swallowed up by one of Charlie’s old hoodies and faded leggings hanging loose off my too-thin legs. I brushed my teeth, but I didn’t brush my hair, and lip gloss is the only makeup that found its way to my face.
But I’m here.
And I’m smiling.
“Ladies, grab some chairs,” one of West’s buddies hollers over to us as we saunter up to the round table, featuring my brother and his two longtime friends, Alex and Shane.
West leans back in his seat, knees spread, beer dangling between them. The smile he sends me is laced with tenderness before it transforms into something more guileful as he sets his sights on Leah. “Hey, tiger.”
“Hey, Westley.”
My best friend gives my upper arm a light pinch, then releases me to drag a chair over to the table, situating herself beside my brother.
West purses his lips at the sound of his full name as his gaze floats back to me. “I thought I told you not to bring her,” he teases.
“Yeah, that’s totally what you said.” I watch as Leah flips her shiny black hair over one shoulder and props her high heels up on West’s thigh. These two have been ready to ignite since Leah and I were in high school. I have no idea why it hasn’t happened yet. Pulling my own chair up to the table, I return the welcoming head nods given by Alex and Shane and take a seat. “Long time, no see. How are you guys?”
Their responses disintegrate into background noise and static almost instantly. Their words are secondary to the sound of my blood pumping through sullied veins, a cruel and constant reminder of the fact that he is gone and I’m still here. Charlie should be next to me, his arm draped protectively around my waist as he talks sports with West and sips on a craft beer. He’d be deep in conversation right now, fully engaged, and yet his true focus would somehow still be on me.
Fingers dancing along my hipbone. Ankle crisscrossing with mine beneath the table. An unspoken “I love you” filtering into my ear, the affection palpable.
I realize I’m smiling and bobbing my head at Alex, watching his lips move, his hands waving animatedly. To him, I’m fully engaged.
But I haven’t heard a word he’s said—my true focus is elsewhere.
“Anyway, you look great, Melody. It’s nice to see you out.”
Alex’s words finally break through my barrier, causing me to blink. I clear my throat. “Thank you. I’ve been so busy lately with the business, it’s hard to find time to socialize.”
“I feel you. Dad life is a bit of a fun-sucker.”
So is grief.
Shane cuts in, his blue-gray eyes pinned on me. “You do look good.”
For some reason, I glance at Leah, as if he’s speaking to the wrong person.
Leah’s smile is more genuine, her laugh a little louder, her clothes fashionable and figure-flattering. She’s a vision, and I’m a blur. I never used to fade into the background, but my extroverted personality has dwindled over the last year. It’s been chipped away by scalpels and spears, leaving me feeling small.
But the smaller I get, the easier it is for me to hide, so I’m content with that for now.
Leah wiggles her eyebrows at me, almost like permission. Permission to accept this compliment. I duck my head, shifting my attention back to Shane. “Thanks.”
God, who am I?
Where did I go?
I used to be funny. Witty. Chatty.
Now I’m just a shell of my former self, spewing out lackluster words and robotic replies.
My fingers curl around the beer that’s been placed in front of me, gripping hard, and I know exactly where I am.
I’m still doubled over in the middle of that downtown street, sobbing beneath rainclouds and a sunless sky, my arms full and heavy, my heart wilting.
The bitter taste of beer coats my tongue as my gaze flicks back to Shane. He’s still staring at me, and he’s staring in a way that’s unfamiliar. West’s friends have always looked at me the same way for as long as I’ve known them.
As Charlie’s wife.
But Shane’s eyes tell a different story now, and I suppose that’s because my own story has changed. There’s been a plot twist.
I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious, drab and unkempt, so I skim unpainted fingernails through my white-blonde hair that hangs around my shoulders in long, knotted strands.
Why isn’t he staring at Leah?
She’s gorgeous and exotic, with mocha skin and eyes spun with copper and gold. She giggles at something my brother says, and her laughter sounds like music. A symphony, or an orchestra.
I am nothing but bagpipes and sad violins.
It takes a moment for me to realize she’s speaking to me, and when I do, those striking copper eyes soften with worry.
“You okay, babe?” Leah removes her feet from West’s lap and twists around in her chair to fully face me. “Bathroom break?”
“Sure.”
Shane pulls his attention off me as Alex goes on a tangent about co-sleeping. West looks as if he’s about to stand to join us, to make sure I’m really okay, but I shake my head with a tight-lipped smile, assuring him I’m fine.
I’m fine.
Such simple yet destructive words.
Leah drags me through the bar by my wrist, and we don’t even make it to the bathroom before she stops, turning around to study me. People bump into us as we come to a screeching halt in the middle of a high-traffic area, but Leah doesn’t care. She reaches out to tuck a loose strand of messy hair behind my ear, her expression full of love. “Don’t think you need to prove anything to anyone—even you. There’s no time limit on healing,” she whispers with delicate care. “I’m not going anywhere, West isn’t going anywhere, bars and fun and social gatherings aren’t going anywhere. No one gets to decide when you’re ready, except for that beautiful heart of yours.”