FALLON
Do you know how long the drive from North Carolina to Alabama is?
Nine. Fucking. Hours.
It’s only been twenty minutes, and I’m already losing my mind.
I’m trapped in the car with Little Miss Sunshine , who chose a rental car that matches her personality – a bright red four-door sedan – and has had the bubblegum pop music blasting since we left the rental lot.
“I’m sitting in the back, you two can have the front,” I say as we pull up to where Cami’s been staying, not ready to face her yet.
I climb over the seat, launching myself across the bench and laying down comfortably. Luckily, I can sleep back here for the majority of the trip, and avoid having any kind of talk with Cami.
Pepper won’t share the details, but gave me examples, and I fucked up. Real bad.
I’ve hurt her constantly since Ozzy left, and I can’t take that back, but I’ve also been a shell of myself, barely getting by as the days have passed.
Earlier, Pepper mentioned that it’s been a little over three months since they left, and I still can’t wrap my mind around that whatsoever. It feels like days, maybe weeks, but definitely not months.
I’ve done the exact thing I’ve tried to avoid, using alcohol as a coping mechanism, and slowly turned into something scarily resembling my mother, and I’m fucking ashamed of myself for it.
Three drink limit.
Never before a meal.
Always in mixed company.
I broke my rules, and let the alcohol run my life, begging it to numb my pain.
It’s turned me into someone I don’t recognize and led me to forgetting a chunk of my fucking life. That’s a scary realization, learning that you’ve been present, but nowhere near coherent enough to process a period of time.
Pepper comes to a stop, laying on the fucking horn and instantly giving me a migraine. Eventually, Cami comes out, and I see her toss her bags in the trunk through the window.
She climbs into the passenger seat, hugs Pepper, and turns to face me.
“Hi, Fal,” she says softly, her eyes barely meeting mine.
“Missed you, Camila,” I whisper, reaching for her hand.
She laces her fingers through mine, kissing the top of my hand before letting me go.
“I doubt that, Fallon.” She turns back around, her curls flipping in my face, effectively shutting me out of her personal space.
This is going to be a very, very long ride.
I listen as Pepper retells her findings to Cami, and they discuss some of the sights they want to see along the ride.
“Are we really stopping for a slice of pizza topped with pickles? We don’t want to miss the guys,” I say, but I am instantly vetoed.
“We have three days, Fal, we can enjoy ourselves a little on the trip!” Pepper exclaims, rolling the windows down.
We’re on the highway, passing billboards at every mile marker, and they remind me of the bus trip I took to get here. I was completely different, unaware of what the real world had in store for me.
The goofy signs all lead toward South of the Border, a rundown tourist spot between North and South Carolina, known for its gift shops and mascot named Pedro who wears a very large sombrero.
Luckily, we’re traveling West, and there will be no sightseeing at Pedro’s Place .
“Who’s keeping track of all the license plates we see? I need an updated count every hour!” Pepper yells, and I hold up the notebook, following her rules.
She’s fierce when she wants to be, and for the sake of this trip, I’m all about her traditions and silly games.
“Can I take a nap? This migraine is kicking my ass, Pepper,” I plead, but instead, she tosses me a bottle of ibuprofen.
“It’s a hangover, Fal. Not your first, so take the pills and watch for the license plates,” Pepper orders, and I recoil, popping the meds and covering my face with a blanket.
Now that I’m being forced to stay awake, the tension in this car is enough to cripple me. The shit between Cami and me is unresolved and hanging over us like a trillion-pound weight.
“Cami, can we just talk this out? I’m sure Pepper won’t mind if we clear the air,” I beg, and she sighs, spinning around to face me.
“We don’t have anything to work out, Fal. I know how hard this has been for you, and I’ve tried so fucking hard to support you, to be what you needed, but you never saw any of it. You’re so fucking angry, Fallon, that you missed what was in front of your face the whole time. You are enough for me, I could live the rest of my days with you, but the sad truth is, I am not enough for you,” she says as her voice shakes, and I’m a bit taken back.
I never promised her anything, and she knew I was with Ozzy when we started flirting, kissing, and catching feelings for each other, so throwing it in my face now isn’t fair, no matter how much of an asshole I’ve been.
Neither of us says anything for a while, but this conversation feels familiar. We’ve had this discussion before, and reliving it feels like a new breed of torture.
* * *
Sleeping alone is for the strongest of soldiers, especially after experiencing the sheer comfort of spending the night in someone else’s arms.
I’m weak, unable to handle the silence and emptiness in a bed that once was ours. Now, I sleep on a mattress with someone else, but it’s not the same.
Camila needs me beside her and waits until I’m ready to pass out before daring to get into the bed without me, but whenever I sleep next to her, I dream of him.
Brutal, merciless dreams that wake me up in a cold sweat, begging the darkness to show me where he is, where he went, but it never answers.
Sleep after a nightmare is impossible, so I sneak out from under her arms, quietly clicking the door shut behind me.
I look around the living room, reach for the half-empty bottle of tequila on the table, and tiptoe to the stairs that lead to the roof.
Cami hates it when I leave her alone, but I’m suffocating under her grasp, the rules almost too complex to handle. I know she’s looking out, worried about my well-being, but I’ve been the same for a while now, and there’s no silver lining here.
There’s no getting better, or less angry, there’s just survival. It’s the only thing I’m good at, and although this brand of pain hits harder than anything I’ve ever felt, I know I’m surviving it.
I take one of Ozzy’s jackets from the hook by the roof's door, and brave out into the night. I prop the door open with a cement block, and let the wind breeze through me, carrying me straight toward the edge.
It’s just me and the bottle out here, the streets silent below me, and I keep my eyes locked on a plastic bag blowing around in the wind. It tumbles through the air, touching down to the ground only to be yanked back up and tossed around at the wind’s unrelenting mercy.
I sip the tequila straight, letting it choke me until it starts tasting less like liquor, and more like a pain reliever.
I wrap the jacket tighter around myself, the cold rattling my bones, but the distantly familiar scent of mint and vanilla steals the breath from my lungs.
It still smells like him.
Every fucking thing in this place is littered with remnants of Ozzy, every corner of this home we built is haunted, and I can’t stand it anymore.
When I walk into the kitchen area, I’m reminded of the endless meals I made in the crockpot with Ozzy hovering over my shoulder, watching as I sliced veggies or seasoned the food.
I’d yell at him to back off and give me room to work, but he’d tickle my ribs until I tapped out, or whisper dirty things just for me to hear.
When I sit on the couch, I think of the late nights spent lounging around, drinking, eating, and laughing with the people who I thought would be there, always.
I’d lay in Ozzy’s lap when it got too late, and he’d stroke my hair until I fell asleep, carrying me to bed once he called it a night.
I can’t even take a fucking shower without picturing the ways we dirtied ourselves while getting clean, staying submerged under the water until it turned cold. He started me on his hair routine, vowing to eliminate my split ends and dryness with his magic hair care set, but now, I can’t bear to use it, sticking with the cheap shit from the dollar store.
This dealership isn’t a home anymore, it’s a foreclosed-on dream, built on a foundation of lies. I don’t belong here, and sitting out on this roof, I finally choose something that could benefit me. I’m putting a stop to this seemingly endless cycle of numbing the pain and feeling the torture.
I’m leaving.
I finish the tequila, leaving another empty liquor bottle in my wake, and strip Ozzy’s jacket off my body, leaving it on the roof.
I’m so deeply covered in him, that the layers could peel back like an onion, but I’m determined to shred every single one until my skin is my own again.
I creep back inside, carefully treading the stairs without taking a tumble, and sneaking back into Cami’s room.
After I destroyed mine, she gracefully moved all of my things in here, but it’s not enough to make me stay. I can only hope she understands that it’s not her, she’s been the only light in the darkest of tunnels, but I have a deeper wound that she can’t fix.
“Fal, what are you doing?”
Fuck – Cami is the lightest sleeper in the entire world.
“I’ve gotta go, Cami. I need … to leave this place. It’s too much,” I say softly, gathering everything I can find and shoving it into a tote bag.
“Fallon, you’re just drunk. Come lay with me,” she whispers, tapping the side of the bed, but I shake my head.
“I need a few days to get my head straight, and I can’t do that here. Please, don’t take it personally,” I plead, looking into her eyes through the darkness.
“It’s always personal with you, Fallon. You’re my girl.”
Something in me boils over with rage every time she says that, but I’ve always let it roll off my shoulders. Tonight, I can’t hold it in any longer, and I know I’m going to hurt her, but the urge to flee is so strong that I can’t rationalize not making a choice that could help me move forward.
“I’m not your girl, Cami. I was his, and now he’s gone. Ozzy’s fucking gone, and being here, in the place we called our home is slowly killing me. Can’t you see that?”
“It always comes back to Ozzy, Jesus fucking Christ, Fallon! He left, but I’m still here. Right in front of you, taking care of you and you don’t fucking care,” she cries, standing in front of me with her arms crossed.
“Yeah, it does come back to him. I was in love with him when you came onto me, and every moment afterward, or did you forget that while you were twisting shit up to fulfill your fantasy of us being together?” I yell, the anger taking control and spitting missiles straight at her.
If she wants a fight, we can fight.
I never asked her to take care of me or become my significant other. I never asked for any-fucking-thing but to be loved by the one person who understood me inside and out.
“Wow, Fallon. After everything I’ve done for you, the times I’ve held you while you cried over a fucking man who abandoned you, and yet, here you are … making more decisions that revolve around him. Don’t you see that I’d never do that to you? You and me, we’re what’s real, but you’re too blinded to realize what you need to be happy.” Cami is crying, tears streaming down her face faster than she can wipe them, and I sigh, not wanting this to get uglier than it already has.
I reach for her, pulling her into my arms, which only makes her sob harder, her delicate body shaking against mine as she tries to take deep breaths.
“Camila, let me go. Please. Let me go for a few days, just to get away from this place that haunts me twenty-four hours a day, and I promise, I’ll come back to you.” I rub her back slowly, waiting until she’s ready to speak, but I don’t expect the rage I’m met with.
“If you leave, don’t fucking come back. This is the place where I fell in love with you, and if you can’t differentiate the way I love you, and the ways he used to, then walk away from me … but, I won’t be here once you realize the mistake you made, Fallon,” she says calmly, but I can see the anger behind her eyes — it’s the same darkness I see when I face myself in the mirror.
She’s giving me the choice to either stay – and continue the cycle of madness where she tries to be my hero – or to leave, but I lose her when I walk out the door.
It’s the most unfair of ultimatums, considering how far down the rabbit hole I’ve fallen, but as much as Cami means to me, I need to choose me .
If I lose her, while I’m trying to find and rebuild myself, then I don’t want her when I’m all glued back together.
She may have seen me at my worst, but right now, the support should continue, especially if I’m trying to get better.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Camila,” I say, kissing her gently before gathering the rest of my things.
“Goodbye, Fallon.”
She climbs back into bed, covering herself with the blankets, and although it kills me to hear her cries, to watch the bed move as she shakes against it, I have to go – right now.
Just when I think I endured the worst of it, I close the door and walk right into Pepper, with a disappointed motherly look plastered on her face.
“What the fuck, Fallon? That was so uncalled for,” she whispers, shaking her head.
“Pepper, I need to feel better. I need to not think of Ozzy every time I turn around, and I can’t do that here. Why is that so hard for you two to understand?”
“Because she loves you. You’re leaving her, too, just like Olly did,” she says softly, encouraging me to follow her away from Cami’s room.
“I know, Pep, but if the roles were reversed, I’d let her go and give her space to forge her own path to healing,” I counter, taking another half-empty liquor bottle and popping the top off.
“You’re not going to heal, Fallon. You’re going to find another place to get drunk and be sad. The pain isn’t going to stop following you because you walk out that door, I promise you that.” She snatches the bottle from my hands, takes a sip, and pushes it back toward me. “But if that’s what you want, then I won’t stop you.”
“I’ll be back, Pepper. I need a few days, okay?” I pull her into me, softly kissing her cheek before I turn toward the door.
I never thought I’d leave the dealership, or be without Ozzy, but as I walk away, waiting for a rideshare, all the pain feels like it leaves my body.
Maybe Pepper was wrong. Maybe, what I need isn’t here, and I can do something to save the soul from being completely sucked out of my body.
I’ve lost absolutely everything that made me feel alive – Ozzy, the guys, Pepper, Cami, and most importantly, my baby – but I’m determined to rescue myself from rock bottom.
A few days in a hotel will do me good, I can feel it.
* * *
The Pickle Pizza Slice was non-negotiable, and I fell victim to my curiosity.
It was disgusting, a slice of pizza drizzled in ranch, topped with pickles – and nothing else – should be illegal, but Cami and Pepper absolutely loved it. It’s been two hours, and they’re still gushing about it, while I sit in the backseat and attempt to get some shut-eye.
I promised Pep I’d chill with the drinking, considering how much grief it’s caused between the three of us, but I can’t help myself.
The idea of ambushing Ozzy has my nerves at an all-time high, especially with what I need to tell him.The ultrasound photo is in my bag, carefully tucked away in a place where it can’t get damaged.
Since the abortion, I’ve looked at the picture hundreds of times, tracing the almost unrecognizable features and wondering what his life would’ve been like. I lose myself afterward, the misery and heartbreak consuming me for a few days until I get a grip on reality.
This baby wouldn’t have had a good life.
That’s what I tell myself, and although it’s fucking gut-wrenching, it’s the truth. But this time, the photograph serves a different purpose, to break another heart, and I’ll be helpless to do anything but watch as the devastation reaches his eyes.
What if he never left me behind?
I’d be four months pregnant by now. My belly would be showing, and we’d be close to finding out the gender of our child. We’d be making a baby registry, and planning his space in the dealership, ensuring the nursery was perfect for his arrival.
Maybe we’d be signing up for parenting classes, or training for car seat safety, but instead, I’m not pregnant, and Ozzy’s not with me.
I reach for the print-out, wanting it close to me while these thoughts run their course, but this time it feels different.
It’s a culmination of everything I’ve been feeling, combined with how I anticipate Ozzy will feel. It’s the agony of knowing I’ll have to mourn our baby all over again and hold him up while he cries, even though my grief was handled all alone.
I crack open another mini, slowly sipping the vodka until the bottle is empty, and the tears roll down my cheeks in the slowest of fashion.
I’m not ready.
I’m not ready to face him.
“Pepper. Pepper, stop, please,” I beg, my voice hoarse.
“What’s the matter, Fal?”
“I’m having a panic attack. I, I need to stop,” I stutter, my body shaking so hard I can feel it in my bones.
She stops along the side of the highway, the bumpiness under the tires bounces my body around as she crosses the rumble strips, but I know it’s safe for me to jump out.
I immediately throw up in the grass, holding onto the guardrail for dear life as I feel the wind from passing cars pushing my body to its breaking point.
“Fal, are you alright? Hungover?” Pepper asks, rubbing my back with small circles.
“No, just … I don’t know if I can do this,” I cry, spinning around to face her, and sinking into the grass.
“You did nothing wrong, though. You deserve this moment to take back your power.”
“No, I think I did,” I cry, slowly unfolding my hand, and letting her see what I’ve been hiding all this time.
She takes the ultrasound photo, and I feel my protective instincts kick in, watching her every move with the only possession I have left of my baby.
“Fal, what is this? An ultrasound?” She asks, looking away from the picture and into my eyes.
The tears slip down my cheeks, and I nod, holding my hand out. I want him back, and seeing the picture in someone else’s grasp makes it all the more real.
“Pepper, can I have that back, please?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Of course, I’m sorry, Fal.” I immediately feel better once it’s safe in my possession, and she approaches me slowly.
“Are you okay?”
No, I’m not.
“I’m not sure how to tell him this. I killed our baby, Pepper,” I cry, covering my mouth with my hands.
It’s the first time I’ve said that aloud, and the words are enough to bring me back to that night, the pain choking the life from my still-breathing lungs.
“Fallon, why didn’t you tell me? Us? This goes so much deeper than just heartbreak,” she says, rubbing my back softly.
“It’s a different kind,” I whisper, retreating from her embrace.
As much as I want to share this with someone, I also don’t want to talk about it. Nobody can understand this except Ozzy.
It was his baby, too.
“Come on, let’s get back in the car, okay? We’ve got around four hours left, and you need to get some sleep,” she says, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she escorts me back to the car.
I turn into the seats, draping a blanket over me, with my bag posing as a pillow.
Finally, Pepper leaves me alone, allowing me to close my eyes and process this on my own.
The girls can sightsee whatever they want, but I decline, opting to stay comfortably in the backseat with my demons.
I cling to the ultrasound picture for dear life, ensuring it doesn’t get damaged, or slip away from me like so many other things I’ve loved have.
Eventually, I drift to sleep, but not deep enough, because I can hear Pepper and Cami talking about me in the front seat.
“What, so now you’re on her side? She was horrible to us, and here we are, bringing her back to the man who threw her away like trash. At least Oliver and Lex told us what was going on. He used excuses to leave her in the dark!” Cami says, in a not-so-hushed voice, but I keep my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
“I’m not on anyone’s side. She’s had something else going on besides Ozzy leaving, and yes, I have sympathy for her right now. It wasn’t our business, and it still isn’t, so drop it.”
Cami groans at Pepper’s words of wisdom, and for once, I’m glad I confided in the right person.
Cami was so hellbent on making me hers or keeping me like a trophy, that I haven’t heard her mention Oliver once.
Now that I think of it, Cami hasn’t mourned Oliver at all. Pepper knew Lex was leaving, but even she was upset, especially those first few weeks when we decided to quit yoga and hibernate inside the dealership.
Cami never cried over her loss – instead, only consoling me.
I thought she was brave at the time by hiding her pain, but she never had any to begin with. With Oliver and Ozzy gone, Cami had a clear path to me, and she used that to her advantage every step of the way.
She always told me we’d move at my pace, and never cross any lines, but as I lay here listening to them talk, I realize something that I could’ve never picked up on without the clarity of being away from her.
Cami used my pain for her gain.
She wasn’t trying to make me feel better, or ease my suffering, she was taking advantage of it the entire time.
I shut everything out around me, letting the sound of the road and passing cars lead me to a place where I can’t be touched.
I’m safe inside my mind for once, and I fall into the deepest sleep I have in months, with nobody meddling in my thoughts, safe place, or imagination.
Me and the darkness are finally getting along, and we’re getting closer to where my heart meets its other half.