Track 14 Back on the Road #2
What was I thinking, leaving Jake? Was I losing my mind?
Jake was perfect. Sure, we didn’t like the same music or spend our free time the same way, but those differences made us whole.
Jake was sweet, kind, and thoughtful. He put effort into us when I barely even tried.
And he loved me. He really, truly loved me.
Maybe more than I loved him, but wasn’t that a good thing?
It seemed like it was. If he loved me more, that meant he could hurt me less, and that sounded like the only risk I was brave enough to take.
E had so much of me, and he was still hurting me.
I mean, all those months had passed, and he never called me. Not even once.
Being with someone you loved too much was dangerous.
You can’t bear to lose them, and when you do, you’ll undoubtedly fall, crumble.
You’re left to die and be eaten by vultures.
Add kids to that, and it’s just asking to be a heartbroken mess, bitter and resentful and unable to love like my mother.
I didn’t want that life. I didn’t want that story. So I had to stay put.
I couldn’t deny the joy of that love—to truly be loved and to love that deeply in return… It really was something that felt holy. Something I knew I’d miss, but was willing to if it meant I’d survive.
Sorry, Gale.
I sat in a daze as I nursed my third drink, trying to find comfort in the mess of thoughts I was reorganizing.
When the bartender came over for a second time asking if I needed anything else, I ordered a salad I pushed around just to seem like a responsible drinker.
I went back to my hotel room, riding a nice buzz, and fell asleep by seven that evening.
The next morning, I woke up with less of a headache than I expected.
I showered in my room's spa-like bathroom, enjoyed the complimentary breakfast and coffee offered in the hotel’s lobby, but no matter how easily the morning moved, I couldn’t seem to find the excitement I originally held for the day's event.
The seminar went by quickly. There were lots of speakers and presentations, of which I took little, if any notes.
I spent the rest of the day wandering the downtown streets until I landed in Johnny Goyen Park, where I sat along the brackish brown water and watched as the sunlight danced along the tiny waves of the Buffalo Bayou.
When the sun dipped below the trees, I made my way back to the hotel, picking up an order of tacos from a passing restaurant. I changed into sweatpants before I ate them in bed while watching reruns of Friends until my eyes were too heavy to keep open.
I slept until eleven on my final morning.
Minutes after opening my eyes, I called the front desk to request a late checkout—not because I needed it, but because I had become increasingly unmotivated to move.
My body felt sluggish and my soul fatigued, though I hadn’t done anything to warrant it.
I wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere between my first hours in Houston and my last, a melancholy haze had settled over me, like a storm coming in to claim the sky.
By the early afternoon, I decided what I needed was a pick-me-up. The Honey Jack and Ginger danced on my memory’s tongue like a bell calling me in for supper.
I walked back to the Prancing Pony, ordered one, and then another.
The whiskey warmed the back of my throat with its sweet twist, and I welcomed the relief that came after its zing.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, ready to shed the odd emotional wave of the days before when a beer bottle slammed down next to me with a loud thud, bubbles spewing out of its mouth.
“If it isn’t the Jersey Girl herself, live in Houston.
” My eyes went wide, and my head spun to the voice that rolled through me, deep and rich, that I knew so well.
It was like being awake inside a dream—that strange, disorienting blur where you know you’re alive, but it doesn’t feel like you’re truly living the moment your brain is experiencing.
“E…” It was barely a whisper. He grinned that crooked grin, and despite the shock my body and mind were in, I couldn’t help but smile back. “What are you doing here?”
He looked around the crowded space, then back at me. “It’s a bachelor party,” he said with his arms wide, emphasizing his shirt—an extremely lame printed tuxedo.
I smiled, and he stared as if he’d found what he’d been looking for, glassy-eyed and swaying drunkenly.
“I thought you moved to Austin,” he said.
“I did. I’m here on assignment.”
He raised his brows and whistled. “Big girl jobs doing big girl things.”
I shrugged with a feigned cocky smirk.
“Buy you a drink?” he asked, and I nodded. “Hey, bartender, we’ll take two of whatever she’s having.” The barmaid nodded, and a moment later, two Honey Jacks and Gingers sat before us.
He hovered his nose above his glass. “Honey Jack?” he asked in disgust, and I giggled.
“It’s good!”
He shook his head. “It’s too sweet! I don’t like sweet things.”
“Oh, we know, Casanova. Stop being a baby and just drink!” He smiled then.
“Race ya,” he said with a sly grin.
“You already lost, Babyboy.” I mirrored his grin before chugging my drink.
He finished shortly after, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “Yuck!” He shivered. “When I throw up tonight, I’m blaming you.”
“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “You were already in the bag well before I got here.”
A man who looked oddly familiar showed up behind E in the same tuxedo shirt. He threw his arm drunkenly around E’s neck. “Hey! No talking to girls during the sausage fest!” I laughed. “This is a bachelor's party, remember?”
“He’s right. No girls allowed,” I said through a chuckle, grabbing E’s beer from his hand. “Where’s the groom-to-be anyway?” I brought the bottle to my lips and took a quick sip.
“You’re lookin’ at him,” Familiar Friend said, and my brows knotted in confusion. I followed his glassy gaze in slow motion as it landed on E, whose smile had completely faded.
The shock to my world was too bold for my face to hide. It echoed through my bones and shook my hands uncontrollably. “You’re getting married?”
E didn’t respond, and I tried my hardest to figure everything out in the seconds that followed.
My thoughts swirled in an uncontrollable spiral—this is why he didn’t call.
Because I left for Texas, and he moved on with his life.
Which is fine, right? It must be fine. Because I left.
I made this choice. He should’ve moved on.
Even though this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, E should’ve moved on.
I want him to. I want him to be happy. I want him to be…
But… married? It hasn’t even been a year since… married?
I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes stayed locked on E’s, but I couldn’t see him at all.
“Hey, I know you. You’re the keg stand girl! Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Familiar Friend said with his finger pointing at me. “You’re the one…” He looked between us then.
E shrugged him off. “Brady, why don’t you go grab a seat with the guys, and I’ll be there in a few.”
Brady gave him a knowing grin as his eyes bounced between us. “Sure, man.” He walked away.
When E turned back to me, I was already heading for the door. “Syd!” he called after me, but I only moved faster through the sea of people until I broke into daylight and was shocked by its brightness.
“Sydney!” He was right behind me in seconds, and I spun around to face him.
“You’re getting married? Married, E?!”
He let out a breath through his nostrils, and his shoulders slacked.
“Were you even going to tell me?” The heartache was there, dripping from my words, and I didn’t try to conceal it.
He went to speak, but I held up my hand to stop him. “No. Don’t answer that. You’re at your bachelor party, so obviously you weren’t going to tell me.” I shook my head, trying my hardest to gather myself. “Who? And how? But who?”
He paused for a moment before answering. “Emma.”
My eyebrows shot up, and my eyes widened. “Emmy Emma?!”
“Yes,” he said, resigned.
“Oh my God,” I laughed, but not in the usual way. In an anxious, psychotic breakdown I’m fucking losing it way. “This has to be a joke.” I tried to hold my scrambled mind together by pressing my temples. “You’re literally joking, right? Tell me you’re joking, E.”
“I was going to tell you—”
“Tell me when?” I shouted, my arms flung wide. “When you were already married? Maybe—maybe your ten-year anniversary would’ve been a great time, huh?!”
He tilted his head and watched as my tangled mind unspooled there on the sidewalk.
“This is… You’re a fucking asshole.” I went to walk away, but turned around again. “I cannot believe you’re getting married and you didn’t even tell me. Some damn friendship—”
“She’s pregnant, Syd.”
I stopped cold. My eyes went wide, and my mouth fell open. The way my earth, my whole fucking universe, shattered in this moment—it was God striking the earth with His fist.
“We hooked up a couple of months ago. Just a random thing… She called me a month later and… That was three months ago.”
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to completely disappear and cease to exist.
“Say something,” he breathed, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have a single word to say. Shock had pinned me in place and left me silent.
When I came to, I looked him dead in the eyes with all the anger, all the hurt and pain I had pouring out of me… and then, I turned, and I walked away.
And he didn’t follow me.
I grabbed my bag from my hotel room, got in my car, and was back on the road to Austin twenty-seven minutes later. Back on the road to recovery from a heartbreak I never should have felt in the first place.