GETTING OVER YOU: a novel by:, page 24
“I understand,” I said.
I did understand. Even if in the pit of my stomach, I felt twisted and almost angry.
“I wanted you to know everything,” Josie said. “That’s just my life right now, Cros. Corey let me live in the guesthouse and I just stayed there. I’ve been stuck. I’ve been… all I know is that when I’m with you, I feel okay. I feel alive. I feel loved. I feel like I want to go home and paint something new. Something amazing. I want to have my own gallery. I…”
“Love, you don’t need me for any of that,” I said. I reached for her hand. “That’s all inside you. That’s your beauty. Your heart. Your soul.”
Josie let out a sigh. “Do we have to leave here?”
“You want to live in the woods with me?”
“Sure. You. Me. A tent. Marshmallows.”
“A guitar,” I said. “Some notebooks. That’s really tempting.”
Josie laughed.
It was good to see and hear her laugh.
I finally was able to drive and keep driving.
We were in silence the entire time, but it was a comfortable silence.
I know I told her that I didn’t believe wishes came true, but maybe for a long time I had been secretly wishing for her. And here she was, with me.
When I stopped my truck outside the front of the house, I looked at her and wanted to keep driving. I wanted to take her home and wanted her every single day and every single second.
“You can keep the hoodie,” I said. “Looks better on you anyway.”
“Oh, this?” Josie asked. “I wasn’t going to give this back. You’d have to take it off to get it.”
“That can be arranged, love,” I said with a wink.
“Oh, Cros,” she said.
“We’ll talk soon,” I said.
“I hope so.”
She leaned across the truck and we kissed.
I could have stayed just like that for the rest of my life and died a happy guy.
I watched her walk along the side of the house until she was gone.
Then I left.
I went home to an empty house and I didn’t like it.
I still had a couple of things I needed to face.
But before that, I decided to go for a long run.
* * *
I sat on the top step of the porch, sweat dripping off my body. I was a disaster with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of whiskey next to me. In my head there were nothing but words. Words that I wanted to string together to write a song. Except it all kept going back to Josie.
When you see the face of memory
the jagged lines you tried to make straight
a crooked jaw and fake full laugh
throwing the glass only after it’s empty
It wasn’t lyrical though. It was poetic.
That normally wasn’t my style.
I had been so used to writing almost in a cookie cutter style.
She sleeps with his memory
and everything he never did
what did you do
to the one I loved after you left
I shut my eyes and shook my head.
Thinking about Josie loving another man actually made me jealous. That wasn’t supposed to be part of all of this. I was supposed to run to her. Have a smoke. Flirt. Kiss. Take her home with me for a little fun between the sheets. Flirt some more the next morning. Tempt that line of romance but never cross it.
Now, all those lines were miles behind me.
I was in so deep, I wanted to fix everything.
I reached behind me and grabbed my phone.
I dialed my sister and shut my eyes as the phone rang. I took the last drag of my cigarette and flicked it toward the street.
It smoked into the night as Cindi’s voicemail picked up.
Hang up, Cros. Hang up. There’s nothing you can-
“Hey, sis,” I said. I cleared my throat. “It’s, uh, well, you know. It’s me. It’s been a while. I got your calls and texts. I have no excuse for why I didn’t reply so I won’t bother trying to lie to you. Hopefully I can catch up with you soon. Hope you haven’t completely given up on me.” I laughed. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know those two words have been spoken so many times, but I’m adding to the pile. I’m sorry, sis. I won’t bother you, but I hope you will give me a call back. Love you.”
I ended the call.
I lowered my head and choked back the tears.
Uncle Cros! Uncle Cros! Check it out! Look at that frog over there! It’s huge! Can we catch it? Can we keep it? I’ll trap crickets and flies for it to eat. Can we? You can keep it at your house. Mom would never let me keep it. And Dad would throw it away. But you can keep it, Uncle Cros. It can be our pet. I’ll name him… Hamburger. Yeah! He’ll be Hamburger, the frog. Can we? Can we? Uncle Cros…
I stood up and took a deep breath.
As I looked around, I gritted my teeth.
A growl rumbled from deep in my chest.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I looked down at the whiskey bottle. Then to my phone. Then to the pack of smokes.
Instead of any of that, I went for another run.
32
Her Words to You…
THEN
Crosby
I stood in the front yard and smoked. But I didn’t enjoy it. I wasn’t even sure if I tasted it. Or what it actually did to me. It was merely habit. Nothing but a habit. And I had no desire to even think about letting that habit go. I had a bottle of beer in my hand, which was just to keep myself drunk.
Cindi didn’t know that I had been downing whiskey all morning before coming over. I walked, to be safe, and now I drank beer to keep myself in this world, so I could function.
“Got one of those for me?” a rough voice asked from behind me.
I turned, and Noah stood on the porch.
His face was filled with red craters, messy scruff around his jaw, his short hair greasy. His eyes looked black as night, his lip snarled.
It took a lot for Noah to look like shit. And this was shit.
I took out my smokes and handed him the pack. He took one, lit it, and tossed the pack back to me.
It was best if Noah and I didn’t talk.
There was a nine-out-of-ten-times chance we’d end up swinging at each other.
In reality, when he swung at me, I took the hit and never fought back.
I deserved to be punched. A million times over.
“Finally got some nice fucking weather here,” Noah said. “The rain has been brutal on my back.”
“That’s a real thing, huh?” I asked. “The weather messing with your back?”
“Fuck, yeah it is,” he said. “Be thankful you’re able to move.”
“Yeah. Thankful.”
“Hell. Be thankful you’re alive, Crosby.”
I looked up at Noah. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“You know what that means.”
Don’t do it, Cros. Let him have his moment and walk away. You came over to have dinner with Cindi. Just Cindi.
“You’re silent,” Noah said. He laughed. “Funny how you do that.”
“I have nothing to say,” I said.
“Of course you don’t. Look at you. You’re a fucking wreck. Let me tell you something, asshole. He wasn’t your kid. He was my fucking son.”
“I never said he wasn’t,” I yelled.
“Don’t fucking yell at me.”
“Fuck you, Noah.”
Noah flicked his cigarette at me.
I swatted it away.
Cindi appeared on the porch and my heart sank.
“You don’t get to kill yourself because you killed my son,” Noah bellowed.
“Noah!” Cindi cried out. “What the hell is happening?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Fuck you,” Noah yelled. “Look at you. You piece of scum. You fucking gave up music now? You look like you have goddamn cancer with how fucking skinny you are. What the fuck gives you the right to suddenly want to run and swim and all this shit? Huh?”
Noah held the railing tight.
His eyes were bulging out of his head.
I was used to this with him, so I just stood there and stared. We had gone back and forth a million times over. Cindi always took his side, which was fine by me. He was her husband. And most of the things he said were true.
I had gotten leaner in places and bigger in other places. Anyone who saw me that didn’t know the reason why I looked the way I did, told me I looked jacked. That I was big, almost monstrous, and my desire to keep punishing myself wasn’t going to end anytime soon.
“I’d fucking kill you with my bare hands if it wouldn’t hurt your sister so much,” Noah said.
“That’s enough,” Cindi said. “Both of you, split up.”
“I came out front by myself,” I said.
“This is my house. And my yard.”
“Fine,” I said.
I walked toward the sidewalk.
Cindi rushed to the top step. “Cros. Wait.”
I stopped on the sidewalk. “There. How’s this, Noah?”
“You’re worthless, Crosby. You always were. You should have never been alone with him. Ever. You were more of a child than he was. How could you not be looking? How could you let him walk that far out on a dock by himself?”
Noah started to shake.
I stood on the sidewalk, just absorbing it.
Cindi covered her mouth as she started to cry.
Family dinner, huh?
This was a fucking disaster. Just like it always was. This time we didn’t even get to eat before shit hit the fan.
Noah came walking down the steps, taking them slowly because of his back and because he was drunk.
I walked forward, and Cindi yelled both of our names.
“Don’t do this!” she said. “Nicholas wouldn’t want this to be happening!”
Noah and I were just a few feet away from each other. His eyes welled up with tears.
“Why did you do it?” he asked me.
“I didn’t,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Noah. I want to talk to you about everything. What really happened…”
“I don’t need to know what really happened,” he said. “You killed my son.”
Noah leaned forward and put his forehead to my shoulder and started to cry.
I kept my hands at my sides.
The moment was more than awkward.
My head was spinning from being drunk. I was tired. I was hungry. I wanted to go for a run. I wanted to lift weights. I wanted to disappear.
“Fuck this,” Noah said.
He growled and pushed off me.
He stumbled back a little and threw a punch. He clipped the bottom of my jaw. Just enough to snap my head to the left. I went with the movement and sidestepped, grabbing for my face.
That’s when my mind finally snapped.
I’d had enough of Noah.
Not just him swinging at me now. But him thinking I was a punching bag every time he saw me. Or maybe because he became such a shit father to Nicholas. Or maybe because he was an asshole to my sister.
My left hand locked up tight. I was going to go for a knockout punch. That’s what Noah needed. I needed to knock him out and let him lay there on the ground and watch the clouds.
As I turned and started to swing, at the last possible second, I saw my sister.
Cindi had run down after Noah.
My fist was already sailing through the air.
“Fuck,” I growled as I stepped back.
The punch became mostly nothing, and I only hit air.
I missed Cindi by a foot, if that, but it was pretty obvious what I had been trying to do.
Cindi stared at me with wide eyes and her jaw dropped.
“You going to kill her next?” Noah asked.
“Go inside,” she said to Noah. “Right now.”
“I’m going to call the police on him,” he said. “He tried to hit you.”
“I was going to knock you out,” I said to Noah. “You’re a piece of scum. A piece of shit. You let him…”
My throat locked up.
I turned around and walked away again.
Cindi convinced Noah to go inside. And only then because that’s where the booze was.
When she stepped next to me, I looked at her. She always had long, curly hair as a kid. This ratty kind of hair. And I was the one who brushed it for her. She would cry, and I would have to take my time. I wasted so much time brushing her hair. When all I wanted to do was to sit on the back deck, drink a beer and play guitar and wait for that pretty girl who painted pictures to go to her room.
Now Cindi had really short hair. So short that she couldn’t even put it behind her ears. She had it almost plastered to her head. It was greasy and thrown together so fast. The wonder of grief.
“Sis,” I said.
“He’s right,” she said, not even looking at me.
“What?”
“Noah. He’s right.”
“About?”
“Everything,” she said. “What the fuck are you doing to your body, Cros?”
“So, it’s a crime to exercise now?”
That’s when Cindi looked at me. “What are you trying to do?”
I swallowed hard. “Punish myself. Chase away every ounce of pain and guilt. Doing everything I can to make it all go away. But it never does.”
“No shit, Cros. It never has, and it never will. Today proves it.”
“Just today?” I asked. “How many times has he taken a swing at me?”
“And you swung back,” Cindi said. “You almost hit me.”
“I would never…”
“You almost did, Cros.”
I looked down. “Right. I’m sorry for that. I came over here because you invited me. I kept to myself. I kept it as normal as I could. I came out front for a smoke and he came out and asked for one. I thought maybe… just fucking maybe… things could settle. But he started…”
“Then you should leave,” she said.
“What?”
“Leave,” she said. “Go home. Just stay away, Cros. It’s too much for us.”
“Too much for you?”
“You heard what I said,” Cindi said. “I’ve tried, okay? I really have. I wake up every day and… I’m alone. I’m alone in bed. I have to swallow everything down and hope that Noah is having a good day. And then seeing you…”
“Seeing me, what?” I asked. “Just say it.”
“Seeing you just brings it all back. It’s like a reset button to my pain. When I see you, Cros, I see Nicholas. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to save him. That’s my job as a mother. To protect him. To love him. To always save him. And I wasn’t there…”
“Christ, sis,” I said. “You were working…”
“Just leave,” she said. “I don’t want you to come here anymore.”
Cindi walked away.
I could have gone after her.
But I let her go.
She made her point clear. Noah made his point clear.
So, I walked away.
I left.
I went back to my place and started to pack it up… it was time to move.
33
A Place to Say Goodbye…
NOW
Josie
I spent hours at the park, working on the mural. It wasn’t the most exciting project for me at first, but the more I did it, the more I really liked it. Cheryl was easy to work with once I gave her my design. She backed me up on everything I wanted to do, and in some strange, ironic twist, she had dinner with some people at the restaurant where I did the mural for Anthony and Joe.
Cheryl even asked me why I hadn’t opened my own gallery yet. I just shrugged it off and played the smiling face role and went back to work.
There had been a lot going through my head lately.
Everything that was happening with Crosby. Denny’s mother showing up with an engagement ring. My love for painting starting to grow again. Not just mural stuff, but actual painting. The word happy floated around my mind, but that seemed scary to go after.
I knew mostly everything about Crosby and he knew mostly everything about me.
It was almost calm. Which was rare for me. There was never calmness.
If I said anything about that to Kait, she’d say it was the Himalayan salt rock lamp she put in the guesthouse a couple of weeks ago. I wasn’t sure what the heck that thing did, but the orange glow of the light was nice.
As I stood on the top of a stepladder, I heard a whistle from behind me.
“There’s a view I can get used to.”
I turned my head and looked down to see Crosby standing there.
Seeing him in sweaty clothes, showing off his wicked cut body was one thing, but seeing him stand there in beat-up jeans and a black t-shirt that wrapped tight around his muscles, that was something else.
So much so that I needed a second or two to catch my breath.
“What do you have there?” I asked as I climbed down the stepladder.
I was a mess. I looked like a mess. Wearing stereotypical overalls that were smeared in all kinds of colors. My hair sticking in any direction it wanted to go. I probably had paint in my hair. And there was no way I smelled good at all either.
“Brought you a coffee,” Crosby said.
He had one in each hand.
I took the coffee from his right hand. “No cigarette today?”
He grinned. “Well, this is a park for kids, right?”
“Oh, you’re a good guy now? You never smoked in a park before?”
“You’re tempting me now, huh?”
“I’m just saying… you used to be super cool. Playing guitar. Drinking beer.”
Crosby laughed. He looked at the giant wall. “That looks good.”
“It’s getting there. Little by little.”
I took the lid off my coffee and blew into it.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” Crosby said.
I slowly stepped back and sat down on the stepladder. I put the lid of the coffee back on. “I don’t know, Cros. There’s just so much going on in my head.”
