Monica Murphy - Four Years Later

These messages aren’t from Kari, though. There’s an endless stream of them, one after another. One heartbreaking sentence at a time.

I miss you.

I think about you all the time.

I dream about you.

I lied to you and I’m sorry.

I was embarrassed.

Ashamed.

I want to earn your forgiveness but I don’t know how.

I hold my phone with trembling hands and tears forming in my eyes. I haven’t cried since that night I ran away from Owen. I told myself I was stronger than that. He couldn’t break me. I refused to let him.

But now, with the truth typed out for me to see, I cry. Quiet, continuous tears that slide down my cheeks, drop from my jaw onto my chest, dampening my shirt. I don’t care. The release feels good. It frees me from everything I’ve held so tight within me for weeks.

Sniffing, blinking past the tears, I text him back.

One pitiful sentence at a time, just like the ones he sent to me.

I miss you, too.

And I think about you all the time.

You come to me in my dreams and I don’t want to wake up.

You lied to me but I lied to you, too.

Because I was embarrassed.

And ashamed like you.

Maybe someday I can tell you about it.

I wait for his answer, my breathing short, my chest aching. What if he doesn’t reply? Maybe he’s drunk. Maybe he’s … oh God, maybe he’s high and he’s trying to con me into going back to him.

Maybe, just maybe, I want to be conned. I want to go back to him. I miss him so much. I need him.

Does he need me?

My phone buzzes and I look at the screen, my heart in my throat.

Tell me about it now.

It would take me forever to text him everything. Before I can reply, I get another message:

Come over. I want to see you.

Can I? Am I brave enough? I don’t know. I want to see him. I’m desperate to look at him, smell him, feel his arms come around me and hold me tight.

Please Chels. I need to see you.

I need you.

His last text tells me that I am.

Owen

I wait out by my car for her, wishing for about the ten thousandth time that I’d offered to come pick her up. She probably would have turned me down. I don’t want to push, but I hadn’t expected her to answer my text messages.

She did. Her words mirrored mine but reflected her own troubles. The secrets she kept from me. I want to hear them. I need to.

I need to see her.

Girls approach me outside, one after another, all of them asking if I need anything, do I want something to drink, something to eat, maybe I could take them back to my room and they could help me out in other ways. So many girls are here, looking to score with a football player. Ready to brag to their friends that they snagged one. I don’t want to deal with the groupies and the obvious girls who want nothing more than to get laid.

I used to be one of those guys who wanted nothing more than to get laid. It didn’t matter with whom or where, I was happy to be getting some.

I’m not that guy anymore. I want my sweet, smart girl. I need Chelsea.

Whipping my phone out of my pocket, I check for a message from her but there isn’t one. My head is clear, the faint haze from my earlier buzz all gone. I’m focused. Centered. She feels close. I can sense her presence, I swear, and when I glance up I see her. Walking across the street, headed straight for me. Her hair is in a sloppy knot on top of her head, she doesn’t have any makeup on, and she’s wearing the sweatshirt I gave her when we went to Drew’s football game and black leggings that make her legs look like they’re a mile long.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hi.” She stops directly in front of me, her hands stuffed in the pocket on the front of her sweatshirt, her expression wary but her gaze … hopeful.

“Hey.” I want to reach out and touch her so bad it’s killing me. “You, uh, walked here?”

She shrugs. “I’ve had so much crap happen to me lately, I figured I may as well live dangerously and walk. What else can go wrong?”

Damn. She doesn’t usually talk like this. She’s the positive one in this relationship. “What’s going on, Chels?” I give in to my urge and reach out, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, let my index finger trace the curve of it.

She releases a shuddery breath and closes her eyes, exhaling softly. “Are you high?”

“What? No.” Fuck. I need to tell her the truth. “I took one puff on a joint earlier. Wade caught me. I stopped.”

“Owen …” She shakes her head, the disappointment clear in her voice, and I’m so scared she’s going to leave me for good I don’t know what to do.

“I was feeling sort of fucked up,” I confess. “I thought I saw you earlier.”

“Where?” She frowns.

“At the game. Some girl who looked a lot like you was hanging all over some guy.” I take a deep breath. “I was jealous.”

“You thought it was me.”

I nod. “And I just wanted to forget, you know? That’s why I lit up. Then Wade saw me and called me out on my shit. Made me realize I can’t run away from my problems. I need to face them head on.” I stare at her, hoping she realizes what I’m saying.

I’m willing to face our problems and make them right. I want this to work. I want us to work.

“I can’t be with you if you keep smoking weed,” she murmurs. “I just … I can’t deal with it.”

“I swear I won’t, Chels. For you, I’ll give it up.”

“You have to want to give it up for yourself, too, you know,” she points out.

Damn, my girl is smart. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

She stares at me for a moment, her gaze dark, her expression sad. “I have to move out of my apartment,” she blurts out.

Shit, she’s leaving? Panic races through me and I stifle it down. I don’t know if I can stand the thought of her gone. “Why?”

“Kari got a bad case of mono and her parents freaked so hard they withdrew her from school, packed up all her stuff and brought her back home. They never really wanted her to leave, to go away for school. This is their way of getting her back under their control.”

Controlling parents who actually care. I have no idea what that’s like. “You can’t find another roommate?”

“No. Kari’s parents took all of her furniture and I only have a few things. I’ve been alone in that little apartment for almost two weeks.” A tiny sob escapes her and she hangs her head, kicks at the sidewalk with her booted foot. “I’ve been working extra shifts. I-I’ve even skipped class.”

“What?” I must have sounded extra startled because her head jerks up, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“I said I’ve skipped class.”

“But you never skip.” I’m incredulous.

“I had no choice. I was either working or passed out in bed after an extra-long shift at the diner.”

“Why do you need to work all the time, Chels?” I want to get to the heart of the matter. I’d invite her to my room so we could discuss this in private but she’d probably accuse me of trying to get in her panties, and I just … I’m too exhausted to deal with that right now. Another fight, another loss. Because I would lose.

I always do.

“My dad’s a thief. He embezzled money from his job for years. They trusted him. We all trusted him.” Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, and I lean in closer to hear her. “He’s also a cheater and a liar. He’s in jail. Prison, really. He’s used my mom forever, always promising he’ll take care of her when really he just stomps all over her heart and leaves it to bleed. I hate him. I also … I hate it when she believes him. When she talks about how bad men are and how much she hates them, then turns around and takes him back. Every single time, she does that. I don’t know why. I don’t get it.”

My heart aches for her. I hear the pain and anguish in her voice and it’s fucking killing me.

I grab her by the upper arms and pull her in close, hold her to me as she presses her face into my shirt. She feels so good, so damn right back in my arms, but I hold her loosely. Not wanting to scare her or make her run.

I need her here. With me.

“Mom always says men shouldn’t be trusted. That she’s pushed my father out of her life forever. But of course, she’s talking to him again and he wants her to withdraw money out of some secret account he has. It’s probably more money he stole. He embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars, Owen. He did it for years. And he cheated on my mom, had endless affairs with an endless list of women. I hate him so much.”

She’s crying, getting my shirt wet, and I let her. Let her get it all out as I hold her to me, one hand in her hair, the other smoothing down her back. I can’t believe she’s here, standing with me outside in front of my house while inside, all around us, there’s a party raging on.

“Why does she keep doing that? Why does she trust him when he’s done nothing but lie and cheat and steal? He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t love me. My dad only loves himself.”

I could get that. Mom is the exact same way. She’s the most selfish person I’ve ever known.

“I want you to trust me, Chels,” I tell her, my voice soft as I press my hand to the small of her back, pushing her in closer. I want her to feel safe with me and never doubt me again. “I swear on my life I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.”

When she slips her arms around me, offering the smallest nod as her answer, I almost want to shout with relief. She belongs with me and I need to prove that I’m worthy of her. That I love her.