26. Opal
TWENTY-SIX
Opal
A fter making Mamaw some eggs and toast for breakfast, I grab my journal and sit down in my favorite wicker chair on the porch. It’s funny, I’ve written more in the last two months than I have in the last two years.
My phone begins to vibrate beside me, and I look down to see Maisie’s phone lighting up the screen. I tap the green button and then put it on speaker. “Hey girl,” I say as I stir sugar and cream into my mug.
We haven’t seen each other in a while. I can’t blame her though, she’s seven months pregnant now and her focus is on preparing for her baby girl.
“Hey, birthday bitch! What are you doing today?” Her peachy tone is cheerful enough to lessen my sour mood just a little.
“I don’t have any plans.”
“None? You wanna hang out then? Maybe get lunch?”
A half smile forms on my lips. “I’d love that. Let me shower and get dressed and then we can meet up.”
An hour later I’m walking into our favorite little diner in Willow Grove, and I spot Maisie sitting in a corner booth. It feels good to get out of the house, it seems like lately I’ve just been wallowing in my anxiety all alone.
We hug and I sit down across from her.
“So, how are things with Mr. Rockstar?” she asks with a grin as she peruses the menu.
I shrug. “Not bad.”
“It would be hard for me. All those girls commenting all over his videos like that. You’re way cooler than I am, I’d get jealous.”
Her words cut deep because it’s really anything but easy. “Yeah, I guess I’ve just gotten used to it,” I lie.
“Well, all of us here know he’s hopelessly devoted to you anyway.”
I nod silently, tapping my fingers against the laminated menu.
She peeks up at me from beneath her lashes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t know. Things are kinda weird between us lately, if I’m being honest.”
Her brows twist sympathetically, and her brown eyes flash with surprise. “Weird how?”
“We don’t talk as much anymore. I feel like…” I don’t want to say the words, it feels like saying them out loud will make them more true somehow. “Maybe we’re kind of drifting apart. Or something.” I purposely leave out the part where he still hasn’t called or texted me today.
“Damn…” she frowns. “I’m sorry, Opal. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around to talk to you about it. I feel like a horrible friend.”
I shake my head, “You’re a great friend, hush. You’ve been busy doing baby stuff, if anything I should’ve been reaching out to you more often.”
Unfortunately, Maisie’s baby daddy took off right after she told him she was pregnant, claiming that they were too young and he couldn’t handle it. The thought makes my stomach lurch. I know exactly how it feels to be abandoned by your father, knowing that her daughter will have to feel that same pain makes me viscerally angry.
“No, your grandma needs you, I get it.” She places her hand on mine and squeezes it gently before dropping it back to her lap. “But hey, let’s get together more often, okay? I’ve missed you.”
I smile over at her and nod. “Me too.”
A day with Maisie was exactly what I needed to get my mind off things. We ate lunch and then aimlessly walked around main street. I helped her pick out some cute onesies for the baby at one of the clothing stores. It almost gave me baby fever looking at all those tiny pieces of clothing. I know I’m way too young to be thinking of that though, especially considering the way my relationship is going.
The thought of that causes my anxiety to come rushing back, my palms suddenly becoming clammy. Seconds later my phone is vibrating in my pocket, I pull it out and see that he’s facetiming me.
I feel like I should be relieved, but the anxious feeling stays lodged in my chest.
“Hey bluebird,” Alex’s words slur together heavily, to the point where I almost can’t understand what he’s trying to say. His eyes are glassy and a smirk is plastered onto his lips.
“Uh, hey.” I try to keep my voice cheerful even though I’m feeling anything but.
“What’s up?”
What’s up? So he really has forgotten it’s my birthday. Pain and anger swirl together in my gut and I suddenly feel like I could throw up.
“Not much.” I roll my eyes.
“Today was crazy. We drove all night, I’m running on an hour of sleep and a fuckton of Red Bull. But the show was great.”
Tears begin to form in my eyes, and I curse myself for wanting to cry over this man. I wish I didn’t love his selfish ass so much.
“I think we need to talk,” I grit out.
“What about?” His brow arches like he’s completely confused.
My stomach drops and gurgles. I don’t want to do this. Especially when he’s drunk, which he clearly is. But that’s the thing, he’s drunk nearly every time we speak now. I glance up at the clock on the wall, it’s only 8:00 pm.
“I just want to talk about...” I pause as I try to gather my thoughts. “Our relationship,” I shrug defeatedly.
“Our relationship? What about it? It’s great. You’re dating a rockstar, baby. What could possibly be wrong?” He starts laughing, and I hear another person’s laugh in the background. He’s obviously drunker than I originally thought.
“Who else is with you?” I ask.
“Oh, just a couple people I met tonight and a couple members of the band. They’re cool, no worries.”
No worries?
“I kind of hoped we could have a private conversation.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend for it to, but at this point I don’t even care. I’m sick of being meek and tiptoeing around everyone else, look where it’s gotten me.
Suddenly I hear a feminine voice coming from somewhere else in the room. “Alex! Get off the phone and come take another shot.”
Pretty sure the last thing he needs is another shot. “Who is that?”
“Oh, that’s just Alexa. Hey Alexa, come here, I’m talking to my girlfriend.”
Jesus Christ. Is he fucking serious? “That’s okay. Let’s just talk another time. You’re obviously busy.” I roll my eyes, getting ready to end the call when the girl with the short blonde hair from the video plops down right beside him on the couch that he’s sitting on.
“Oh, hey! I’ve heard so much about you.” Her demeanor is surprisingly friendly, but that doesn’t make this situation any less off putting.
“Hi.” My lips stretch into a tight, insincere smile. “Alex, let’s just talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says, still giggling. I don’t see what’s so damn funny, personally. “Thanks for sharing Alex with us, he’s seriously the best.” She winks at me before getting up and walking away, but the sick feeling in my stomach just seems to burrow deeper and deeper.
“Alex, can you go outside or something so we can actually talk?” The anger in my voice is getting harder to conceal.
“Okay, okay.” I watch as he sways back and forth and eventually makes his way outside where it’s a lot quieter. “Tell me what’s wrong, Opal.”
“Tell you what’s wrong? What do you think is wrong?”
His glassy green eyes flash with alarm suddenly. “I don’t know if you don’t tell me.”
“Alex, it’s my fucking birthday.”
That somehow seems to sober him up, because his eyes perk up and suddenly fill with concern. “Oh fuck…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I thought your birthday was tomorrow, I guess driving all night got me mixed up.”
I take a deep, shaky breath and let it out. “I don’t know if this is working anymore,” I whisper, more to myself than to him, as if I’m just now figuring it out and accepting it.
“What?” He almost sounds exasperated, like he’s the one who’s been ignored and pulled back and forth, left waiting for an explanation all the time. He has no reason to feel that way.
“Ever since you left everything is just…so different. I don’t feel like I know you anymore.”
“But…” he pauses, threading his fingers through his hair as a worried look covers his face. “Opal, I don’t want that. You’re my best friend. I c-I can’t live without you.”
His words break my heart completely open, any thread that was holding it together is gone now. What am I doing? I know I don’t want to leave him, but he’s essentially already left me.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t do this, Alex. It’s too hard, I didn’t think it would be, but it is.” My voice cracks on the last word.
He takes another pause. My fingernails bite into my palm, and a silent tear slides down my cheek, my throat closing up the way it does when I need to cry but don’t want to. So many times in my life I’ve held back tears, always believing the situation didn’t warrant them. Someone else has it worse , that’s what my mom always used to say when I’d complain about something. So I learned to keep my emotions hidden, pretend that I was tough and nothing could hurt me. But the entire time, I was broken inside. And now I feel like all that fake toughness is collapsing into itself. All those years of holding it in are coming to an end.
I don’t want to be tough anymore.
“Fine,” he says.
“Fine?” I stare at his blank face on the screen.
“I’m doing everything I can. If that’s not enough, I don’t know what to tell you.”
I snort a humorless laugh. “Everything you can? Alex, I’ve hardly spoken to you in weeks.”
“Fuck!” I hear something crash in the background. Did he punch something? Kick something? That isn’t like him. Alex is the gentlest guy I’ve ever met. What is happening to the man I loved? Loved.
No, I still love him. Even though he’s slipping away from me, I do still love him.
“Maybe you’re right.”
I wipe at my wet face. “What?”
“You’re right. It is too hard.” He sighs. “I’ve gotta go.”
He hangs up before I can reply, and whatever was left of my heart slides right out of my chest onto the floor.
I sit there for a moment, stunned and confused by what just happened. I’m not sure what I expected, but I certainly didn’t expect that.
He doesn’t care.
For what seems like hours I lay in bed, my face pressed against my soaked pillow, until I eventually fall into a restless sleep. I wake up and a wave of anxiety swallows me whole as soon as I come to. My alarm clock tells me it’s only 3:00 am.
I grab my phone, hoping that maybe it was all a bad dream. Maybe I’ll have a text waiting for me from him that will make me feel better, but I know that isn’t the case. This is my new reality and I’m going to have to get used to it.
Knowing that sleep is nowhere close now, I mindlessly scroll through my usual apps, trying to distract myself any way that I can. When I open Instagram my heart drops, and I blink a few times to make sure I’m really seeing what I think I’m seeing.
The first post on my feed is a tagged photo of Alex, a lazy smile plastered on his face with his eyes closed. He looks half asleep. His arm is lazily draped over Alexa’s shoulder, and her ruby red lips are turned up into a grin. I check the timestamp; posted one hour ago.
I’m going to be sick.
Wiping more angry tears from my puffy face, I block his Instagram account first, then his number. As if on autopilot, I make sure every single one of his social media accounts are blocked. Then I delete every photo of us that’s in my phone, each one causing my heart to break a little bit more, but I know what I have to do.
I have to eradicate Alex Anderson from my memory and move on with my life, as if he were never a part of it. No matter how much it may crush me, I have to forget him.
He’s clearly already forgotten about me.