“Well, you’ve fucking pissed me off, Chrissie.”
“Most musicians would be happy if their girlfriend said it was OK to do what they want when they’re on the road,” I murmur, trying to get this to cool down.
It doesn’t work. His face swivels toward me. His eyes are cutting as they lock on me. “So, is that what you are? My girlfriend? You’ve finally figured out you’re my fucking girlfriend?”
He stands up.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
He stops beside the bed. He stares down at me. “We have been together for three years, Chrissie. What the fuck do you think we’re doing here? I haven’t been with anyone else. I know you haven’t been with anyone else. That makes us pretty fucking exclusive, everywhere in the world except in your head.”
My entire body is covered in a burn by the time he’s finished. I stare up at him. “You haven’t been with anyone else?” I whisper.
God, I wish he’d stop looking at me that way.
“No.” He says it firmly. Emotionally. His eyes round, heavy with meaning. A long pause where he does nothing but stare at me. A ragged breath leaves his chest. Then, “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”
The look on his face rends my heart.
“I’m sorry, Neil. I just think we should take a break.”
~~~
What a miserable night. I stare at my ceiling wondering how I am going to make it through the morning.
The long hours awake in my bed felt just like they did Neil’s first night at the condo, with him on the couch and me in here. Uncomfortable and weird. It shouldn’t make me feel so internally messy, it’s the right thing for us both, but knowing he’s out there, no longer a part of my life, is a wretched thing anyway.
I climb from the bed and pad to the door. Opening it a crack, I peek out into the living. I can hear Neil breathing from the couch. He’s still asleep. It would have been better if he’d packed up and left early. It doesn’t matter. A few more hours we’ll both be out of here; Neil back to Seattle, and me, a few weeks in Santa Barbara and then Alan again.
I push Alan from my mind. Making it through the next few hours with Neil is enough for one day.
I quietly make my way to the kitchen. Rene is sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal.
“What happened last night?” she exclaims, her eyes fixed in a probing stare. They move with me as I grab a bowl before settling in the chair across from her. She sits back. “You and Neil have a fight?”
I fill my bowl. “Not really a fight. Not much of one.”
Rene studies me then frowns. “I heard you arguing, but it sounded like it ended quickly. I thought it was all good. Then this morning I find Neil sleeping in the living room. It’s weird.”
She waits for me to explain and I don’t look at her. Last night was definitely weird. Neil didn’t stay angry very long. He just sort of slipped back into sweet Neil, and the rest of the night wasn’t terrible. That’s another strange thing I’m struggling with this morning. It hurt how easily Neil was him again. I don’t feel even close to normal today.
“What’s going on, Chrissie?”
“Rene, I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Can’t we just wait? We’ll talk about it in the car on the way to Santa Barbara, OK?”
Rene’s eyes widen, and I move from the table to grab a cup of coffee. My hands are shaking as I try to add the creamer.
“Did you guys break up?” she asks.
I whirl from the counter and glare at her. “What part of I don’t want to talk about this do you not get?”
I slam down the creamer and hurry back to my bedroom. I should have just stayed in here. I sink on my bed and stare at the closed door. An hour later I hear Neil moving around. I can tell it’s him—slower, easy ambling steps, more quiet than Rene’s rapid motion thumping.
I sit in my room, listening to the movements beyond the door. I can hear Rene talking with Neil, but their voices are too soft for me to make out their words. Thirty minutes later the slam of Rene’s bedroom door.
Cautiously, I go back into the living room. Neil is already dressed, sitting on the floor, sorting things as he occasionally shoves something into the pack he takes everywhere.
I curl on the couch and watch him.
“You doing OK, Chrissie?”
He doesn’t look at me.
“I’m OK. How are you?”
He shrugs, but his jaw tightens. “I’m almost packed up. Is it OK if I don’t take everything today? When I’m off the road end of April, I’ll come back, pack up the rest and send it to Santa Barbara.” He looks at me then. “If that’s OK with you, Chrissie.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sure, Neil. It’s fine.”
He stares at me. “Hey, Chrissie, don’t forget we’re friends. You need anything, you call and I’ll be here. OK?”
I look away and I can tell by his voice it isn’t bullshit and he means it. God, why does Neil have to be such a great guy, in all moments, even this?
After I sit here for what feels like forever saying nothing, because I really don’t know what to say after that, he springs to his feet and starts stacking things atop a box. Once his pack is set there, he picks it up.
I stand up and cross the room to him.
“I’ll call when I get back to Seattle if that’s cool with you,” he says.
Tears sting behind my lids. “You can call anytime you want, Neil. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
I stay standing close to him, expecting him to kiss me on the cheek or something, but neither of us move. Then he walks to the door.
I follow him with my gaze, frozen. Everything is less certain and more hard.
Neil looks at me and laughs. “Are you going to get the door for me, Chrissie?”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip to hold back the tears. “Sorry, that was stupid of me. Wasn’t it?”
I cross the room and open the door for him.
“See ya, Chrissie.”
“See ya, Neil.”
I stare into the hallway as Neil lugs his things toward the elevator. Ending it was right for the both of us and yet it still feels like I’ve done a really crummy thing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I sit on the top step of the stairs built into the cliffs and stare at the ocean.
Even with the sea breeze, I am warm and uncomfortable today. Crap, it’s January. Why is it seventy-four degrees? Why is it always seventy-four degrees? Nothing ever changes in Santa Barbara. Life plods along in a slow pace, familiar, and even the good and bad are always the same.
Is that why Jack loves it here? Jeez, there are times it drives me crazy. How everything is always constant and never new and unexpected. The city, the people. Fuck, even the weather. Unchanging, always the same, like me.
Nearly four years at Cal and I’m exactly where I always end up; emotionally messy Chrissie alone on the cliffs, not even close to figuring out me. Ending it with Neil didn’t change a thing. I don’t feel any better inside, just different, and I still don’t know where I’m going to be in the spring after Berkeley.
This Christmas was definitely far from a Hallmark moment. Sure, I got my roses, but no call from Alan. I didn’t expect one since I was stupid enough to leave my mobile phone in Berkeley. And I definitely didn’t expect that Rene wouldn’t call because she’s pissed at me for dumping Neil. She hopped a plane to Bermuda with Patty without even giving me a ring. Neil called, though. It was awful, really strained at first, and then it started to gel and smooth. We hung up in a good place.
I stare at the water, shaking my head. I’ve had a miserable winter break, it felt melancholy not to be with Neil this year, and to top it off, there was last night, the night Jack didn’t come home for the first time in my life.
God that was awful in every way. Me sitting with Maria this morning, the two of us having a normal breakfast, and seeing her turn red and get all flustered when I asked where my dad went. Then, the rapid stream of English and Spanish, always instantly nerve jolting because it only happens when she’s in a panic about something she doesn’t want to discuss with me, the words too fast to translate clearly.