Page 83 of Chasing Stars
I plop back on the sofa and my mom sits down next to me. She pats my knee. “Miles, honey, you’re not fine.”
“I just needed a little time off,” I tell them begrudgingly.
Nate sniffs the air. “Does time off mean not showering, taking the trash out, or washing dishes?” His face contorts—nose wrinkling, like he’s trying not to gag—as he looks around my disordered condo.
“I’m just tired.” I rake my hands through my hair. “You two interrupted my nap.”
“This is an intervention.” Nate raises his eyebrows. “You are going to get up, get your ass in the shower, and get to work.”
“Make me,” I scoff, folding my arms across my chest indignantly.
Nate looks to Mom for help.
“Miles, we’re just worried about you,” she starts slowly. “You’re reminding me of how you were when Erin left. That wasn’t good then, and it’s not good now.” My mother’s eyes tear up, and something tugs at me deep in my chest. I can’t handle seeing her cry.
Nate shakes his head, “No, it’s worse. Erin was yourwife, Miles. Jenna is just a girl you met a few months ago. Pick yourself up and move on.” He sits in the armchair adjacent to me, resting his elbows on his knees and eyeing me cautiously.
“She’s not just some girl,” I rasp, batting at my eyes that unexpectedly sting.
“No, of course she isn’t, Miles,” Mom soothes, rubbing a hand up my back with a sniffle. “But you can’t stay in here like this. You will never get her back hiding in your condo.”
“I will never get her back, period,” I growl. I didn’t lose hope right away. After Jenna left me on the sidewalk, I ran into my condo and made her a playlist. I waited a day or two before I sent it to her, but when I did, she asked me to please give her some space. That’s when the last of my hope dissipated. I have never been asked for space before.
“Come on, get up,” Nate demands, trekking down the hallway. A moment later, the shower turns on.
I roll my eyes, glancing at my mom as if to say,Can you believe this guy?
“You should go take a shower, Miles. You’ll feel better. You can’t live like this forever.” She pats my shoulder. “In the meantime, I’m going to clean up your kitchen.” She stands and walks around the half wall into my small kitchen. “Oh my God, Miles, this is disgusting.”
I turn around to find her grimacing, repulsed by the state of the sink.
Nate reappears a moment later. “Come on, the water is hot. Don’t make me throw you in there.” He holds his hand out to pull me up, then follows me down the hallway.
“Dude.” I turn around sharply. “Chill.”
“I’m just making sure you get in.” Nate stifles a laugh.
“I’m going.” I hold up my hands in surrender.
I close the door before he can say another word.
I stare at my ashen expression in the mirror.You can’t live like this forever.My mother’s voice penetrates my numb exterior. As much as I hate to admit it, Mom and Nate are right. I don’t want to, but I’ve got to pick myself up. One look at my haggard appearance in the mirror, and I know it’s time. Jenna won’t take me back looking like this. I strip down and step intothe steam, my skin tingling as the warm water cascades over my tense limbs. The hot water is deeply comforting, soothing my tense back muscles, filling me with surprising relief.
I close my eyes, letting the water fall over my face, rinsing away regret and offering a brief solace. It’s been seven days of barely moving from the couch, stuck in a haze of guilt, self-pity, and take-out containers, each day blurring into the next. The silence of my phone is deafening, the last message from her reminding me that she doesn’t want to see me.It’s probably better if Nate handles things from here on out,echoing in my head like a song on repeat. But as I lather and wash, my thoughts untangle.I’ve been so damn stupid,I’ve been wallowing in this...in losing her...but she’s still in Cape May. And I’m not done yet.
Renewed hope and motivation twist in my chest, the fog of despair dissipating. I suck in a deep breath, steam filling my lungs. Maybe I can pull myself together enough to get Jenna to talk to me. Who knew I only needed a shower to sharpen my resolve, to fuel my will to get her back.
“This isn’t over yet,” I say to myself, turning off the shower. I towel off and reach for my phone. We haven’t spoken in over a week, I don’t even know if she’ll respond, but I have to let her know I’m not giving up. I pull up our text thread and take a steady breath.
Me:
Jenna, I know I messed up. But I’ll do whatever it takes to fight for us.
I hit send and emerge from the bathroom more clearheaded and optimistic than I’ve been in days.
After I shower,Mom and Nate sit on the couch, waiting for me. They have tidied up and look relieved that I’ve put on clean clothes. Just gray sweatpants and a black thermal, but I don’t smell awful anymore. I sit on the other side of the sectional, my lips slightly upturned to a smirk.
“Do you feel better, baby?” Mom asks, cocking her head at me.
