53. Im the Only One, Melissa Etheridge
"I'm the Only One," Melissa Etheridge
Cruz
Even though I’d packed my backpack knowing where I would end up, I was in denial until I found myself on the cracked sidewalk outside Alex and Grace's gray Victorian.
We’d been here last week for a cookout, sitting around a campfire eating s’mores. Victoria joked that she liked her marshmallows charred as black as her soul, shoving a messy one into my mouth with a villainous chuckle. I licked the gooey stickiness off her fingertips until Alex groaned, “Ugh, get a room.”
God, I really didn’t want to be here without her.
I don’t know how long I stood on their sidewalk before Ruby, looking adorable in unicorn footie pajamas with a rainbow horn, peeked out the front door. “Do you want some company?”
Not really, but I didn’t want to be mean to a little kid. She plopped down on the top step. “Alex told me Victoria moved away. He brought home black and white cookies from his business trip, but he was too sad to eat them.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way,” I said, then admitted what I wish I’d had the courage to say before she left. “I’m in love with her.”
“Then you must be really sad,” she said, sliding her small, sticky hand into mine. “Alex was only gone two days. When he got home he said he missed me and Grace so much it was hard to breathe.”
"Ruby, honey, did you— Oh.” Grace didn't ask why I was sitting on her front porch, just held the door open in silent invitation and offered Ruby screen time to give us privacy.
The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and fresh coffee, with a plate of half-eaten pancakes on the kitchen table. Grace poured me a fresh cup of coffee, eyes brimming with sympathy.
“Grace, do you know where the clean binkies—” Alex said, a baby carrier strapped to his chest. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes nearly as dark as mine, but not surprised to see me. “Oh. Hey Cruz. This is Caleb.” Alex tilted so I could see the sleeping baby. “Grace got the call from the foster agency while I was in New York.”
“Hey there, Caleb,” I said softly, straightening his little knit hat. “How long is he here?”
“As long as he needs until his mom is ready to bring him home,” Grace said with a protectiveness in her tone. Alex’s jaw tightened, his pats on the baby’s bottom speeding up.“That's life as a foster parent. Some kids will stay indefinitely, like Ruby. We’ve already filed her adoption paperwork. But others …” Her mouth tightened, and she reached over to rub his hat, “we love them as much as we can while they’re with us.”
I shouldn’t have come here. I should have waited until Monday and gone to Blackstone & Clarke, kept things professional. Although Victoria’s empty desk might have torn me open all over again.
Alex poured himself a giant cup of coffee. “So why the early visit, Cruz?”
The moment of truth. I unzipped my backpack and dropped the manila envelope on the kitchen island. “Is this what I think it is?”
“It is if you think she signed her luxury condominium over to you and will pay all your taxes and fees in perpetuity,” he said, bouncing when Caleb fussed. “I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s Victoria. That’s what she does.”
“She gives away multi-million dollar property as a breakup gift ?” That’s what she’d given her ex-husband, after all. She’d handed over her childhood home to buy her freedom. Is that what this was? Her way of buying me off so she could leave guilt-free? “Not that it matters. She made it pretty damn clear that it’s over, and the apartment is a consolation prize.”
“Did she?” he said skeptically, his eyes dropping to the manila envelope.
I didn’t want him to see her words, didn’t want his hands to touch what she touched … but he was the best hope I had to make sense of this. I handed the letter over with great hesitation, and he took it with gentle care. He tugged on his lower lip, his eyebrows rose, then his throat rumbled with a laugh.
He handed it back with an arrogant smirk. “She never actually said it was over.”
“She clearly did,” I said, re-reading the letter. She had to take this job, she wished we had more time, she was grateful for what we had …
Oh my god. Did she not break up with me?
“She wrote it this way intentionally,” he said. “If you read it strictly, she gave you an out. But the breakup is open to your interpretation.”
“Fucking lawyers,” I muttered as Grace grabbed the sponge and started forcefully scrubbing the breakfast dishes.
“Damn right, we’re the worst,” he grinned. “She knew that if you came to me, I’d tell you. She was hedging her bets, as always.”
I thumped the letter down on their island, making Grace jolt before she lifted a clean glass into a cabinet. “So if she’s not breaking up with me, why leave without warning?”
“You’re not the only one she left,” Alex pouted, and I realized that I’d been wallowing about losing my girlfriend, but he lost his business partner and best friend. “I told her if she was really in charge, she should be able to decide when to move … but once her dad said she had to be there, she dropped everything. Completely irrational.”
Grace slammed the cupboard door and whipped around, hazel eyes blazing. She jabbed the spatula at Alex. “ Irrational ? All these foster parent trainings about supporting kids with trauma, and you can’t even see the signs in your best friend? Un- freaking -believable.”
I reeled back, surprised at the sharpness in her tone. She was usually so calm, so steady, but when she turned to me, there was an intensity I’d never seen before. “She believes she can’t rely on anybody because everybody she’s loved has either betrayed her or died. Including her grandfather. And he made decisions without her consent, so she inherited a company she never wanted, a company she thinks her mother died for.”
She picked up an empty baby bottle and measured the powder with trembling hands. "And she was taught her emotions were a weakness, so she shows her love with extravagant gifts and parties. With real estate , because that's what her family values most."
The truth landed like a sucker punch. The air mattress, the furniture assembly, the training sessions. All the times I’d been offended that she was trying to pay me, she'd been trying to win me over the only way she knew how.
The preppy clothes, the surprise party, the goddamn cobra tattoo, my nickname inked permanently on her body … all signs of her love.
And I hadn’t seen it. I’d been so obsessed with the words that I’d missed the actions.
“And her dad, the only family member she has left, will criticize her if she’s anything but perfect. Just like you two, accusing her of being irrational ,” Grace said, moving behind Alex to unclip the baby carrier straps. “As soon as he showed up, her adrenaline probably spiked, triggering her fight-or-flight instinct. And now she’s under so much pressure, her cortisol levels are probably off the charts. She’s so deep in survival mode, she probably can’t think straight.”
Grace’s chest was heaving now, her face red with frustration as she shoved the bottle into Alex’s hands. “And you, Cruz? You’re terrifying to her . You didn’t even want a relationship six months ago. Right now, anything she can’t control or predict is a threat, and you’re a wildcard. She’d rather end things herself, even if it hurts her, than always be on edge, waiting for you to leave her. She probably thinks she freed you from the cage that she’s trapped in.”
She stared out the kitchen window, eyes glassy. “Self-isolation is a trauma response,” she said softly, tapping her chest twice. “When my dad kicked me out, I didn’t trust anybody for a long time. Years. Didn’t let anybody get too close, because I couldn’t control their reactions. Even after years of therapy and becoming a social worker, I still worry that the foster agency will take Ruby, that Alex will leave, that my brother will move away …”
Grace spun away, using the back of her hand to wipe at her eyes, and Alex balanced the baby while wrapping an arm around her neck, pressing his lips to her forehead.
I turned away from their intimate moment, I thought Victoria just didn’t care enough. I thought she was rejecting me when, in reality, maybe she’d been trying to protect herself.
I’d taught her self-defense … from everybody but me.
I swallowed hard, trying to digest everything Grace was saying. My blurry vision focused on the letter on the counter. You understand why I regretfully have to leave.
Bile rose in my throat. All the moments where Victoria pushed me away, where she shut down, where she let silence fill the space between us, they made more sense now.
I re-read Victoria’s letter, really paying attention this time: The careful wording, the loopholes left deliberately open. Maybe it wasn’t a Dear John letter.
Maybe it was a love letter disguised as a real estate contract.
A soft chuckle burst out of me. “Fuck I love her,” I murmured. They lifted their heads in unison. I gestured to the letter, the contract, everything. “She’s just so …”
Alex’s eyes softened, understanding exactly what I meant.
Grace wiped her eyes with a rag then tossed it over her shoulder, taking the baby to burp him. Jesus, this woman was resilient. “She needs someone to show up for her. Not as a savior, or somebody asking for a handout. Someone willing to prove that love doesn’t have to be conditional.”
Alex nodded, looking me in the eye. “You see her. Really see her, in a way most people never do. Most people see her as a spoiled rich girl. Her family sees her as a successor, meant to carry out their plans. Hell, I saw her as too much work and broke up with her instead of fighting for her. But you, Cruz … you’re the only one who treats her the way she deserves.”
***
I walked home in a fugue state. For the first time since she’d driven away, I knew exactly what to do.
I retrieved my guitar and took six flights upstairs, forcing myself to breathe as I let myself into her apartment, ignoring all the signs of her absence on my way to her office. I turned on her webcam, checked the levels on her mic, then looked directly into the lens.
Nobody has ever fought for Victoria …
Until now.
“Hey Cobrecita ,” I said into the camera, strumming over a G chord. “I saw you at work. You looked beautiful and powerful as hell. It got me thinking about the first song I ever heard you sing, before you even knew I existed. I think that’s the night I fell in love with you, but it took a while for my brain to catch up.”
I cleared my throat. ”We’re going to be apart for a while, and that’s ok. I’m here whenever you’re ready. Until then, this song can be a reminder of who you are and where you belong.”
I sang about my willingness to fight for her, to walk across fire if that’s what it took. I poured out my heart, using the lyrics to explain that I saw her demons and loved her anyway. Whenever she realized she was ready, I’d be waiting.
I finished the song, looked directly into the camera, and said the words I’d been dying to say for months, the words I’d been holding back to keep her from running, the words that might bring her home: “Stay strong, Cobrecita . I love you.”
Then I published the video to my YouTube channel.