6. Madison
My heart stills in my chest at the sight of Braydon, after nearly six years. Well, it doesn”t actually still because that would mean I would be dead, but it certainly feels like it.
“Bray.” The single word is barely above a whisper.
This feels like a dream, and I am scared that if I speak, I will wake up and he won”t be real. I have pictured this day for six years now, and somehow this isn”t the reaction I was expecting. Maybe I was hoping he would still be mad at me, because that would hurt less. maybe I was hoping that he would hate me for leaving. Instead, the look in Bradyon”s eyes is a mixture of sadness and regret. sadness and regret that I caused.
I clear my throat, trying desperately to find my voice. I shoot a glare at Adalynn, before I turn back to Braydon.
“Your set sounded really good. I always knew that you would make it big someday.”
“Thanks, but I am far from big.”
Braydon nervously pulls at the back of his neck. My eyes catch on a flash of colorful beads and the word “daddy” on his wrist. On instinct my eyes jump to his left hand. No ring and no tan line.
“A gift from your girlfriend?” I motion towards the bracelet.
Braydon looks down at his wrist, and I immediately regret asking the question.
“Umm, no, actually it”s from my daughter, Iris.”
There goes my heart stilling again.
“Oh,” the only word that my brain can come up with.
“Well ladies, I should get going. Adalynn I will call you later.”
Braydon rocks back on his heels, before he pulls Adalynn into a hug. He turns and walks out the front door.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I turn to face Adalynn. She shifts under my irritated gaze.
“Madison, I am so sorry. I meant to tell him you were going to be here, but I wasn”t sure you were going to make it.” Adalynn”s eyes are apologetic.
“It”s ok A, but you could have at least warned me that he didn”t know.”
She nods.
“I really got to get going though, because I have to be at the office early tomorrow morning.”
“Ok, well, drive safe. I love you M.”
“I love you too.” I call to Adalynn over my shoulder, as I push open the door to the bar.
Cold night air hits me as I step outside and pull my thin pink cardigan tighter around my body. My brain feels like it is in a fog, and my body feels numb. No more than ten minutes later, my black jeep is parked in front of my quaint little cottage. I don”t have any memory of driving here, but at least I am back in the comfort of my own place.
Layla, my orange and white cat, greets me at the door by rubbing up against my legs. Layla is a rescue cat that showed up at my front door one rainy night back when I lived in New York. That was almost three years ago now, and Layla and I have been best friends ever since. I toss my keys in the catch-all bowl on the table by my front entrance. Walking through my house, I am still in a complete daze. I can”t seem to get the image of the sadness in Bradyon”s eyes out of my mind. I step into my bedroom and grab the first pair pf black leggings and a hunter green tank that I find. I pull them on, and plop down on the floor in front of my still packed closet.
I pull out a box I thought I would never look at again, but here I am picking at the scab from a six-year-old wound that I thought was fully healed. Opening the box, the familiar scent of pine trees and leather embraces my senses. Sitting on top is the sweatshirt I stole from Braydon after homecoming junior year of high school. Resisting the urge to slip it on and inhale his familiar scent, I set it aside. Underneath the sweatshirt lies almost four years” worth of memories of a relationship that I threw away. A once in a lifetime love that I chose to give up. It is really just a bunch of little things that I collected, but each one holds a special memory of Braydon and me. I reach into the box, and pull-out polaroids, handwritten letters, movie ticket stubs, and even old carnival stuffed animals, examining each item with care. I re-read old letters and trace my fingers over pictures. It”s been so long since I have looked at them that it almost feels like I am seeing them for the first time. I still can”t fully wrap my head around the fact that Braydon, my Braydon, has a daughter. Except that”s the thing, I keep thinking of him as “my Braydon.” my shaggy haired, blue eyed, high school sweetheart. He”s Not that Braydon anymore though. He is grown up, mature, and has a daughter. He may still have the same shaggy hair, and blue eyes, but he isn”t mine anymore. I try to remind myself of this as I continue to go through the rest of the items. This is what I wanted. I chose to leave. It might not be what I want anymore, but I can”t go back and change the past. Plus, I love my job as a lawyer. It can be challenging at times, but I wouldn”t trade it for anything. I went off and pursued my dreams, and Braydon seems to have ended up pretty well off.
I always knew that I couldn”t have both, but I guess a small part of me hoped he would have waited for me. even though that is a selfish thought. I finally make it to the bottom of the box and pull out the ticket stub from the night we went to the drive-in to see grease. That was the same night Braydon told me he was willing to follow me all the way to New York. We see how well that turned out though. I shake my head in an attempt to shake all the memories from us out of my head. I start to put everything back into the box. Everything except for the sweatshirt. Giving in, knowing it will only pull me right back to the past and remind me of just how safe it felt in Braydon”s arms, I slip the sweatshirt over my head. I let myself inhale the scent of the Braydon I once knew. I caught a whiff of this same scent on him tonight. He may smell the same, but he isn”t the same. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I almost jump out of my skin. It is just an email from my boss, so I decide to leave it until tomorrow morning.
“I should go for a run.” I whisper to Layla, as she appears out of nowhere to rub her head against my knee. She lets out a soft purr as I scratch behind her ears. Reaching behind Layla into my closet, I pull out my running shoes. I slip them on and take off the sweatshirt.
I ran back in high school. It was never for sports or competitions, just running to clear my head. I mainly do it because when I run it feels like everything else in the world just slips away. It is just me and the wind rushing past me.
After a quick stretch, I start down my street in a warm-up jog. Just under three miles in, I start to pick up my pace. My lungs are screaming, and my legs are already starting to ache from the exertion. But the pain only makes me want to push myself harder and faster. I push through the fifth mile before I slow my pace back to a jog, heading back towards my house. By the time I am walking up the front steps of my front door, my legs feel like two wet noodles, and my lungs feel like they are on fire. Grabbing my Stanley off the counter, I fill it up just as Layla comes strutting into the kitchen. She rubs against my legs, most likely begging for more food.
“I guess I can get you more food.”
I reach down and scratch her head, before I pull the bag of food out from underneath the sink. I scoop out the food into her bowl and give her a treat just because I can. Grabbing my cup, I head back upstairs to my bedroom. I exchange my contacts for my glasses and try to study for the BAR. I always knew that becoming a lawyer would be tough, but I figured after college I would be able to find a job at a firm. It has proven to be a lot harder than I thought. When I moved back to Utah a little over a month ago I applied at a firm. They would only hire me as a receptionist though. Reluctantly I took the job with the hope that I would be able to start working on cases eventually. In order for that to happen I have to take, and pass, the BAR. which is proving to take a lot longer than I thought. there is a soft plop at the end of the bed as Layla hops up and curls into a cozy. Little ball at my feet.
“Sounds like a good idea to me, Layla.”
I set my laptop, and textbook on my nightstand, along with my glasses. Snuggling deeper into my oversized comforter, it doesn”t take too long for my exhaustion to catch up with me. It doesn”t take very long for me to give into the sleep that is tugging at my drooping eyelids. I am on the verge of fully giving in when my phone buzzes on my nightstand. With a sigh, I sit up and check the caller ID. Adalynn”s name flashes across my screen with a silly selfie of us from the last time she visited me in New York.
“A, what”s up?” I clear my throat to get rid of the sleep in my voice.
“Oh, Madison, I”m so sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Uh, yeah, king of, but what did you need?”
“Well,” Adalynn sounds a little nervous. Which makes me scared of what she is going to say next.
“Yes?”
“Braydon has another show next weekend. It is just in another small bar in the next town over, but I was thinking that you could come with me.”
I sigh, into my phone.
“Adalynn, I know what you are trying to do, and it isn”t going to work.”
“Maddie, I just think that you should at least try and get to know him again. I mean at the minimum y”all could become friends again.”
I contemplate her statement. I mean getting to know this new version of Braydon sounds like a great idea to me, but after what I did, I don”t really think I deserve it. And he is kind of hot when he is all sweaty from performing.
“I will think about it.”
“Yay! Thank you, Madison.”
“As long as you promise not to wake me up with any more late-night phone calls.”
“Ah, you know I can”t promise that.”
“I know.”
“I guess I can let you get back to your beauty sleep. I love you, Maddie. Sweet dreams.”
“I love you more, A.”
The call disconnects, and I set my phone back down on my nightstand.
“Now where were we, Layla?”
I ask the darkness in my room. I get cozy in my bed, again, and this time when I fall asleep, I don”t get woken up by a phone call. Instead, I drift off to sleep with the hope that Braydon will meet me in my dreams, like he has been doing every night for the last six years.