Chapter 7 Melanie
MELANIE
NOW
I wait until there are no noises coming from the living room before creeping out of my room to use the bathroom.
Josh is asleep on the couch, a soft snore coming from his chest. He’s got his left forearm over his eyes and the blanket twisted around his legs.
I tiptoe over to the couch and study him while he sleeps.
The rise and fall of his chest is so steady, it makes my own chest ache.
The creases of his face are relaxed and smooth, no lines of worry, no defenses in his expression, just the boy I used to love.
I remember the way my heart used to race around him, late-night jam sessions, and whispered promises that never made it past September.
Back then it felt so simple, until it wasn’t.
Now watching him sleep, his quiet vulnerability and his achingly familiar features, I want to reach out and touch him.
But I don’t. Because the knot of everything left unsaid tightens in my chest, like a memory I’m not sure I want to keep.
Even still, I feel tenderness toward Josh, buried under the weight of old wounds and unanswered questions.
I probably overreacted tonight. But when I heard him playing that song—the first one we ever wrote together—I was overcome first with sadness, then with anger. How could he have let me go so easily back then? I needed him. We both lost Cara. I know she was his sister, but she was my best friend.
Even though his parents made him move, he could have called me.
We could have helped each other through it.
The truth of the matter is, I’m not sure I ever really got through it.
Here I am, nearly forty-two years old, single and desperately lonely, with walls built up so high, I can never get a guy to stick around.
I push everyone I meet away because breaking down my walls is too much work.
Josh shifts in his sleep, and I worry he senses my presence. For a second longer, I let myself wonder what he’s dreaming about. Am I there? Was I ever?
I sneak into the kitchen for some water and quietly hurry back to my room before I wake him.
* * *
I awake the next morning to the smell of bacon.
It takes me a minute to remember that I’m supposed to be mad at Josh, and this is probably an apology effort on his part.
I rub my eyes, sit up, and search for clothes.
I throw on a loose pair of gray pajama pants and a black T-shirt with no bra.
I check my reflection in the mirror on my dresser, fluffing my bedhead.
I put on some deodorant and body spray and swing open my door.
I find Josh standing over the stove, cooking scrambled eggs.
Two coffee mugs sit on the café table. His shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, sending a shiver straight between my thighs.
Josh was never a small guy—even in high school he towered over me—but now he’s a man, his body made up of sinewy lines and sharp angles.
He takes up all the space in this tiny kitchen.
My tiny kitchen. And somehow it feels right. Like he belongs here.
“Hi,” I say, startling him.
He whirls around, spatula in hand, and flashes me a devastating smile. “Good morning, Strawberry Girl,” he murmurs. He turns back to the eggs, stirring them slowly.
I walk over to the table and sit down. “Making breakfast?” I ask, even though it’s obvious.
Josh lifts a shoulder, uncertainty written on his handsome face. “I thought we could talk.” Then gesturing to the mug in front of me. “That’s for you.”
I smile, taking note of the fixed mug. “Thank you,” I nearly whisper.
“Cream and two spoonfuls of sugar, right?” Josh confirms.
I don’t even get to marvel at the fact that he remembers what I put in my coffee yesterday morning because he puts a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me. The toaster dings and up pops four slices of toast. Josh gets to work buttering them.
“Yes. Thanks,” I say, my voice breathy. I’m unsure what to say next.
A moment later, he’s across from me with his own plate and our toast. “Melanie, listen.” His voice is husky. “I’m really sorry I invaded your privacy last night. I was looking for inspiration and feeling stuck. Reading our old lyrics sparked something in me that’s been missing.”
He pauses, and I’m not sure what to say.
“I’m so sorry, Mel, for everything.” Josh offers a hand to me across the table, but I don’t take it.
“Okay. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that I don’t have any answers to my questions.” I can’t look at him, so I look down at my plate, chewing on my bottom lip.
“I know that,” Josh agrees.
Silence hangs between us for several moments, both of us eating quietly. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” I finally ask, my voice catching in my throat.
I work hard to steady my wavering breath.
“It’s all well and good that you’re back, and I’m even happy you’re staying here with me.
It feels like old times, but Josh… I have to know.
” I pause, finally meeting his eyes. “You broke my heart.”
Josh nods, shame written on his face. His shoulders slump as he scrubs a palm down his face.
“I know. I know I did. I’m sorry, Mel.” He pauses and sucks in a breath.
“I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I broke my heart too.
I loved you so much.” Josh’s expression turns pained, like talking about the past will somehow widen the gap between us.
“Then why didn’t you come see me before you left?” I practically shout, slamming my hand on the table. “I had a fucking broken leg, Josh. Or I would have been banging on your door to see you.”
Josh bats at his eye, and I wonder if this conversation is too much for him. He shakes his head, sniffling. “You have to understand, my sister was dead. I was reeling. My entire world was upside down.”
“So was mine! I was with her, remember? My best friend. And my boyfriend didn’t want to talk to me,” I cry, gesturing with my hands so wildly that I nearly knock my coffee mug over. Our eggs are getting cold.
“Melanie, I couldn’t support you and handle my own grief. Jesus, I was sixteen. What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Josh doesn’t match my anger. Instead, his voice is thick with emotion, his eyes glistening. “If it helps, I have regretted it every day since.”
At this, I soften. My Josh. It was always Josh. In my teenage mind, we were supposed to end up together. “You have?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
Josh gets out of his seat and moves closer to me, getting on his knees and taking my hands in his. “Yes. Of course I have, Melanie. You were the first girl I ever loved. Maybe the only girl,” he murmurs. Before I can respond, he says, “Write this album with me. A tribute to Cara.”
I’m caught off guard, shaking my head. “Uh, no. Josh, I told you. I don’t play for anyone but myself anymore.”
“Don’t you remember how good it used to be?” he whispers, never letting his gaze fall. “Think about it Mel, please?”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I’ll think about it,” I murmur. “But I can’t make any promises.”
Josh smiles then, showing his dimples under his honey blond stubble speckled with gray. Another reminder of how much time has passed between us. He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it softly, his mouth warm. “That’s all I ask.”
* * *
Hours later, I’m alone and feeling emotionally drained.
Josh left me to meet up with some old friends from high school and frankly, I’m thankful for the space to think.
That doesn’t stop me from laying on his pillow on the couch though.
I push the side of it over my face and inhale.
His scent is ingrained in the flowery pillowcase.
Something musky, cedar wood maybe. Definitely not the same smell high school Josh had, but so much better.
I close my eyes and before I know it, I’m remembering.
“I think it’s ready,” Josh says, putting down the open notebook and picking up his guitar. “Let’s play through it.”
I wince. “I don’t know… The harmonies are rough.
” I chew on my lip. Over the past couple of weeks, working on this song has become more than just a song.
It’s everything I’m feeling inside for Josh…
my best friend’s little brother. Except he’s hardly little.
No, Josh is filling out—he’s all lean muscle and patchy stubble.
“Come on, let’s just try it in unison,” Josh urges. He strums the first chord and wiggles his eyebrows at me. He grins and shows me both dimples.
“Okay, fine,” I roll my eyes.
Then we’re playing together, Josh taking the lead on guitar and singing backup to my melody.
Your fingers strum in the summer breeze,
I wonder if you ever think of me.
Harmony’s easy, but we’re out of tune,
But, I’d play forever if it’s next to you.
We keep it quiet, keep it cool,
But every note bends the rules.
If you knew what I felt inside,
Would you stay, or would you hide?
Don’t call it a summer fling
I’ll give you my paper ring.
I scribbled your name on my notebook page.
It’s wrong, it’s right, it’s something new,
I don’t know chords, but I know you.
Midnight tides, moon on the sand,
Sneakin’ out with guitars in hand.
Strawberry girl, sing me a tune,
I'll play forever if it’s next to you.
When the song ends, Josh’s eyes lock with mine.
He sets his guitar down, and I do the same.
Suddenly I’m hyper aware of how close we are.
Goose bumps prick my arms and before I know it, only an inch separates us.
Josh leans closer to me. “That was amazing,” he murmurs, entangling his fingers with my own.
I nod and a sound similar to “Uh-huh” escapes me.
“I like that it’s about us,” Josh says quietly.
“It’s not about us,” I murmur. “It could be about anyone.”
“It’s about me and you, Mel.” Josh swallows. “Do you remember what I told you after Alex’s party?”
I meet his eyes and nod. “You told me you like me.” My voice is a whisper.
“Right. I do.” Josh takes my hands in his. “As more than a friend.”
“I like you too,” I murmur, my lips turning upward. “As more than a friend.”
Josh licks his lips, pushing his forehead into mine, his mouth hovering over my own. “Is it okay if I kiss you now?”
I nod and then his lips are on mine, soft and tentative.
I open my mouth for him, and the kiss deepens, still tentative and uncertain but full of something that has been building in the background of our music for months.
When we pull apart, neither of us speaks for a moment.
The air between us is charged and delicate, like a note hanging in the space between chords.
“Do friends kiss like that?” I ask, smiling.
Josh leans in to kiss me again and just before his lips graze mine, he says, “No, I don’t think they do.”
My buzzing phone startles me out of the memory.
I pick it up and it’s a text from a number I don’t yet have saved.
It’s Josh. He’s going to be late tonight.
He decided to stay and hang with the guys.
At least he’s letting me know. I tell him I’ll leave a key under the mat in case I’m asleep.
I have to force myself not to be disappointed.
I reach under the ottoman and find the notebook I caught Josh with, flipping open to our very first song. Then I grab my guitar, and everything comes rushing back. The notes are rooted in my soul.
Then
M – now that we’re kissing, does that mean I can kiss you whenever I want?
LOL! Within reason. NOT in front of Cara or anyone at school.
Good thing school is almost out then.
I just want to make sure she’ll be okay with it. Let’s just play it cool for now.
And sneak around like we already do?
Something like that.