Page 48 of Where You Are

“Oh…” is all I can muster in response as I try to regain my bearings from that curve ball. She’s looking at me plainly like my answer won’t matter to her agenda one way or another. “Um… no, thanks.” I finally answer, trying not to offend her. “It’s been a long night and I’m beat. I had a nice time with you though,” I finish. Even though I didn’t, I’m not going to be a hurtful jerk about it.

“Okay,” she answers, and the corners of her mouth actually pull up the slightest bit and I see something in her eyes that resembles… relief. “Itriedright?”

I’m surprised even further that her eyebrows are going up in a somewhat hopeful expression as she puts emphasis on the wordtried. She looks the most poignant I’ve seen all night, but I have no idea how to respond to her question.

“I guess,” is the smooth response I come up with as I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I’m just not in a place to…”

“It’s okay,” she cuts in to reassure me, and I can’t get over how amiable she seems all of a sudden. “Neither am I,” she finishes so quietly I’m pretty sure only I hear it. I give her a half smile, feeling relieved that we’re seemingly in the same boat. The kiss she gave me at the beginning of the night must’ve been for show.

“Take care,” I tell her as we lean in and give each other a friendly cheek kiss, like some kind of understanding has been forged between us. When I see she’s safely inside, I get back into the car and tell the driver to step on it back to the hotel the rest of the band and I are staying at. I pull at my tie and the first few buttons of my shirt, never so happy for something to be over in my life. While it didn’t end on the worst note, I’m hoping it’s a while before our fearless leader has something like that in store for me again.

MELANIE

Every day I seem to get a little bit closer to something resembling normal. Some might argue that I’ve spent too long holding on to what I had with Matt, but it didn’t end the same way most relationships do. It was ripped away unexpectedly, with not even a chance for the passion and the love to fizzle, or for us to grow apart, or for differences to drive a wedge between us. It was a full blazing fire that was snuffed out by a harsh wind, and it’s been hard to recover from with no closure. I don’t think my head ever even stopped spinning, and has only merely slowed down to a swivel.

Regardless, I’ve kept moving and it gets easier each day. I’ve even started running again in the mornings without Sasha having to drag me out, and that has played one of the biggest parts in my progress. My runs are long and they clear my head. They help me to escape the thoughts and feelings that still haunt me, and the adrenaline keeps the pain down to a dull twinge.

I’ve gotten to know a lot of the staff around the resort as well as the immediate community in the area, thanks to living with Sasha. I steadily settled into a routine that’s lead to something of a life, although anytime I think about giving up my American citizenship, I just can’t. I can’t stop holding out hope that one day I’ll get to go home.

I come across a major land mine one day however, after a swim in one of the resort pools. It’s been an exceptionally sunny day, which I’ve begun to tolerate again, and enjoying the lagoon-like pool is a good way to make the most of it.

It’s late in the afternoon and the sun has shifted to the west just enough to give off that orange glow that seems to signal most of the vacationers that the prime sun-bathing hours are behind them, and they might as well go in and think about getting a move on their evening plans. I take the same cue and heave myself out of the pool and squeeze the water out of my hair as I stride over to the lounge chair and snatch up my towel. After I’ve patted myself dry and wrapped on my cover up, I reach down to pick up my bag when my eyes fall on an abandoned magazine on the lounger next to mine. A familiar face can be seen in the upper right-hand corner of the cover, and without thinking, I grab it to get a closer look. It’s a small photo, not part of the main headline, but it’s unmistakably Matt, decked out in a sharp suit at some event with a striking woman draped on his side. The sight of her leaning in with her lips to his cheek packs one hell of a sucker punch - almost as much as the caption that reads:

Chantal’s New Man?

Runway Queen seen at Fashion Week festivities with Turn it Up’s bass player.

I wasn’t planning on having the wind knocked out of me while I stand in the middle of a pool deck with hundreds of strangers around me, but here I am; struggling for breath around what feels like a cold, black brick in my chest. I feel the color drain from my face as I look up from the magazine and at my surroundings, as if I’m trying to verify that I’m not in some alternate universe. My mind registers all the relaxed and content resort guests with easy smiles on their faces, clueless to the turmoil that’s brewing inside me. I hear nothing but the erratic pound of my heart that seems to have lost its rhythm, and the ragged breaths I’m trying to draw in.

I turn and walk towards the staff quarters, focusing extra hard on keeping my gait steady and a straight face, and I swear, the paved path stretches endlessly in front of me. It feels like an eternity before I close the door of our small flat behind me, and goosebumps from the air-conditioned room immediately prickle all over my skin.

I lean back against the door and realize that I still have the glossy, flimsy magazine locked in my grip. I chance another look down at it, honing in on Matt’s gorgeous face. His brow is slightly furrowed and his dark eyebrows pulled together as his eyes seem to be cast downward, hidden behind his black lashes. For the most part his expression is unreadable, but the photo presents a few base facts: he’s out, with a woman; a woman who seems to feel comfortable enough to hang on his arm and nuzzle into him out in public.

Fuck, I can’t look anymore.

I dart to the small kitchen and cram the magazine into the trash before getting sick in the sink. After rinsing my mouth out, I walk on shaky legs to the bathroom and start the shower. After stripping and stepping into the steam filled enclosure, I let my body slide down the smooth stone of the far wall to sit on the mosaic tile floor, cradling my head in my hands as I allow the warm droplets to fall down on me like rain.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Melanie

Matt is no longerany of my business. That’s all part of the package I regretfully signed up for when I left. He gets to move on.

I should too.

But God, I don’t want to. Every day that passes takes me further away from the time when I’d been happier than any journey around the world could have made me, and I resent it. I resent passing time.

These are the thoughts racing through my head that I’ve spent the last few hours lying on my bed, trying to sort through. I’m trying to focus on the logic to keep from tumbling back down the gnarly, jagged hill I’ve spent so many months trying to struggle up. I can’t let that happen. I feel like I barely survived those first couple of months, so logic needs to be my new best friend, along with acceptance.

Lying on my bed staring at the wall, however, isn’t going to help. I need to move my body. I crack my own proverbial whip and sit up. It looks like I have to revert back to telling myself to do the most basic motions, but the meditative aspect of it helped before, and if I need it again, so be it. I tell myself to stand and walk out the slider door, to breathe in the balmy air of the warm night. I do it, and continue walking under my brain’s instruction, veering off the path and letting my bare feet register the feel of the soft grass as I head towards one of the beach areas. I let my mind command me to look up at the moon as the terrain beneath me turns from grass to smooth sand.

I’m alone in this little cove, with a small expanse of beach before me between docks where a variety of fishing, recreational, and excursion boats are gigged up, bobbing around on the gentle waves sweeping in. The moon is big and bright, reflecting off the water and giving just enough light to the nearby mountains to show their dark green against the deep blue ink of the sky. It looks like something out of a magical story and I take it in, allowing it to soothe me.

I keep my gaze focused on the fantastic sight as I step closer to the water gently lapping the shore, wanting to feel its coolness on my toes, craving more for my senses to take in. Only, what I feel is far from what I bargained for.

I let out a panicked shriek into the otherwise quiet night as my foot comes down on something sharp, slicing through the sensitive skin on the sole of my foot. It’s the jolting, stinging pain that zaps me out of my calm as the sand comes up to meet my ass with a thud, from the very sudden inability to put weight on one foot.

“Fuck!” I shout out, going for broke, and releasing the pain out of my mouth since there seems to be no one around to offend. I grab hold of my ankle and try to get a look at the damage on the bottom of my foot. The moon that so brilliantly painted a serene picture for me mere seconds ago is failing miserably at showing me the cut on my foot. I can only make out dark fluid coming from a gash.

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