I wake up to an empty bed, a throbbing headache and a hard on. I had a feeling she’d be gone when I woke up but a part of me was hoping that she’d be downstairs making breakfast or something. She kept me warm last night. Safe. Anchored. The only thing left of her is my jersey folded neatly at the bottom of my bed. I turn to my bedside table and there’s a note in her handwriting, a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water.
Take these.
I have to go to practice.
XO
Wren
I take out two of the painkillers and down the glass of water before wandering in the bathroom. I take a look in the mirror and my bruise isn’t look as bad as it was last night but it’s still pretty angry looking. I know I shouldn’t have got in the fight but by the way they were talking about Wren and Carter made my stomach turn.
After Carter passed, everyone on the team was broken up. It was the first and last time I saw any of them cry. We talked about him regularly, keeping his memory alive until one day they all moved but I stayed there.
I stayed waiting for him, looking through photos and trying to will him back into existence. Sometimes, when we’re all drunk and emotional we’ll bring him up and toast to him but on a regular day everyone seems to have forgotten about him. But I can’t.
Every time I got up, it felt like I was dragging my feet through quicksand, trying and failing to get better. Just sinking back in right where I started. All the guys have probably had their fair share of sad moments but sometimes I feel like the only person who’s actively trying to remember him. But what good is that when I can’t honour him too? Our first match of the season is in January and if I’m not ready to play by then, I might as well give up.
Most of the morning goes by in a blur. All I can think about is her. Her hands in my hair, my hands on her ass and her moaning my name when we were barley moving against each other. I don’t think I’ve been that turned on in my life. I knew I was straining between my jeans, and I needed to deal with it, but I sucked it up and focused on making her feel good.
I haven’t heard from her since she left this morning, but I know she’s probably skating until her feet are sore. Or maybe she’s avoiding me? We didn’t speak about what almost happened after the gala so should I be expecting some sort of response from her after last night?
Sure, we kissed, and it felt fucking amazing but maybe to her that’s all it was. I was the one who asked her, and she said yes. That’s it.
I don’t have time to overthink it before I hear rapid knocks at my front door. I rush downstairs to open it and instantly, I wish I hadn’t.
With long brown curly hair and a sheepish smile, my sister stands in the doorway with her arms across her chest. I blink at her, hoping that she’ll disappear when I open my eyes but the doors already open and she’s pushing past me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, shutting the door behind her. I remind myself to check through the peephole before answering the door again.
“Miles, me and you need to talk,” she says sternly, shrugging off her coat and holding in her hands.
“I thought we already did that.”
“No, like, really talk. You can’t keep running away from me. You’re nineteen. You’re too young to be running away from your problems already.” She walks further into the house, looking around.
“Fine. Let’s talk,” I grunt. I lead us into the kitchen, and she takes a seat at the breakfast bar, swinging around to face me as I stand at the other end, my back against the counter. “Do you want a drink or something?”
She shakes her head. “You should sit down for this.”
I take in a deep breath and sit down next to her. I know I’ve been running away from her, from my family, because it’s too much deal with on top of everything. How was I just supposed to move on like everyone else? The same way everyone moved after Carter died. It’s just not that easy for me.
“I didn’t tell you about mom because I was trying to protect you,” she begins. Okay, so we’re going straight into this. Great. “And don’t roll your eyes before you let me explain.”
“Go ahead,” I say. A huge part of me has wanted to know why. Why I was the only one who didn’t know. Why everybody was so okay with it.
“I found out about the affair in the worst way possible,” Clara starts, her fingers tapping on the table. “I was going into the school to surprise mom for her birthday, like we planned to the week before. I had just started college and you were still in middle school. I had flowers and chocolates, and I went in, and she was kissing him. At first, I thought maybe dad had a new haircut or something but as I got closer, I realised it wasn’t him.”
“So, what did you do?” I ask, my voice sounding smaller than I thought. I thought the surprise idea we had worked out perfectly. I wouldn’t have expected it to be that moment that she found out. Mom got home from work like normal and we had dinner together like we always do. Nothing felt off.
“I did what any eighteen-year-old who had just caught their mom cheating would do. I burst through the door, screaming, crying, and shouting at her. She told the guy to leave, and she sat me down. She apologised and told me that it wasn’t dad’s fault, and it wasn’t any of our faults either.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want to, Miles. She told me to. She said that I could tell you if I wanted and she wouldn’t hold it against me, but I chose not to. I know how you are, and I couldn’t let it crush you and set you back. You were only a kid, and I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life hating her. Not like I did.”
That makes sense.
I don’t argue.
I don’t make a snarky comment. I just let it sink in. If I found out then, I would have hated her. I would have held onto it, used it against her in any way I could, and I still wouldn’t be over it.
When I know something, it consumes me. It becomes all I can think about and there’s no way of telling when I’d get over it.
“How did you do it? How did you forgive her?”
“Well, it helped that I was at college. If I saw her every day, I don’t think I would have done it so easily. I just had to let go. I had to move on with my life. I had goals that were bigger than this setback in my life. At the beginning I was angry, and I wasn’t sure when I’d stop thinking about it, but I had to push forward.”
“I don’t know how to do that. How to just let it all go.” I sigh and run my hands through my hair, defeated.
“I know you don’t, that’s why I couldn’t tell you. Do you remember that action figure you had? The army one with the interchangeable outfits?” I nod and she continues. “You had that with you all the time. You had in your hand in the stroller, you held onto it while you were potty training, and you brought with you to your first day of kindergarten. It was old and mouldy by the time you were eight and do you remember what happened when dad tried to throw it away?”
“I screamed at him and said I’d run away if he didn’t give it me back,” I say, laughing at the memory. I had almost forgot about that. I was such a dramatic child. Maybe I still am.
“Because you couldn’t let it go, Miles. You thought it was this precious thing that you couldn’t live without but when you got a new pair of skates you forgot about it, and you moved on. That’s why I thought that if I waited to tell you, you’d be more open to forgiving her. I thought you’d find it easier to move on,” Clara admits, looking at me sympathetically. I don’t say anything for a while.
“Do you think that’s why I’m still thinking about Carter? Why I can’t move on. I feel like everyone has moved on and I can’t,” I ask, my voice wavering. I only ask to try to make sense of it myself.
“I think… I think that’s a different thing, Miles. Loosing someone is a very difficult thing and everybody deals with it in different ways. I don’t think you need to worry about how long it takes you. It’s not something you can just wake up and move on from.”
“Everyone else has. Clara, I can’t even put on my helmet without feeling like I’m suffocating,” I say truthfully.
I don’t know when I started crying but I did. Hot tears run down my face. I don’t bother to hide it. I’ve got used to crying now. At first, I thought it was something to be embarrassed about. Something that shouldn’t be happening but then it starting to feel relieving. Cathartic.
“Oh, Miles. I know we haven’t spoken but please tell me you’ve been talking to someone about this.” She brings her hand to my back, rubbing reassuringly. I sniffle and try to blink back the tears.
“I have Wren,” I say, mostly as a reminder. Because I do, right? Even though I haven’t heard from her since our kiss, I still have her. I have to.
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that but who’s Wren?” she asks, her nose scrunched up.
‘She’s my girlfriend. She’s just…” I laugh. How could I even begin to describe her? How could I tell her that she’s completely taken over every single thought in my brain. That’s she’s the only thing I can think about. Her stubbornness and all. “She’s everything.”
Clara nods in understanding. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
