Storm (Ashes & Embers 1)

Chapter Eleven

Sometimes, it’s easy to slip into denial about what’s going on in life. It’s safer and easier to exist within the confines of what is comfortable than to venture out and allow yourself to experience new things that might shake the foundation that has become your safety net.

I think most people settle for what is safe at least once at some point in their lives, but a person who suffers from anxiety or depression will almost always run away from goals, dreams, and new life adventures to avoid the possibility of feeling anything new and somewhat scary. It is better to live with the known than face the unknown. Or at least that’s what I’ve told myself for most of my life. That mantra kept me steady, unchanged, consistent, comforted.

I have lived vicariously through my best friend Amy since I was five years old. She is a risk taker, the thrill seeker. My window to the world I am afraid of experiencing. She has been my rock since the first day of kindergarten when two other little girls were making fun of me for crying after my mother kissed me goodbye and left me at the door to the school. I was afraid she would never come back and I would be abandoned forever. And while that didn’t happen on that day, eventually, it did happen. Amy took my hand, told those two little girls off, and walked me into the school, never leaving my side.

“Ev, you need to listen to me.” I am listening to her. I just don’t want to hear what she’s saying. We’re at a small restaurant in town having lunch to celebrate my feeling better and not being fired.

“Amy, you don’t understand...”

She taps her manicured finger on her wine glass and lifts her ice blue eyes to meet mine. “I do, honey, and you know I do. I’ve been through this many times. I’ve dated a lot of men. You’re scared. But this guy really seems to like you. These texts he sends you? I wish men would text me nice things like that, just to ask me how my day is and to say goodnight. Instead, I get this bullshit asking me to bring them cigarettes and telling me to wear a black thong.”

“Well, you do have a fabulous ass,” I tease.

“I know, but I would still like to have a man treat me like a lady once in a while. You’re getting texts like this from a rock star, for God’s sake. I’m getting wet just thinking about it!”

“Amy!”

She flings her platinum hair back off her shoulder and sips her wine. “What? The guy is sex on a stick, Evelyn, and he’s got it bad for you. If I were you, I would not hesitate. Go directly to his bed. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“There’s more to life than sex.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Is there?”

“I want more than that, Amy. You know that.”

“Ev! He’s giving you more than that! He’s been sending you cute little text messages with smiley faces for two weeks! Who the hell does that? He took care of you while you were sick with the flu and looked like ass! He’s making a big effort here, and trust me—that is rare, honey.”

“Yeah, but why is he doing it? Don’t you think it’s an act?”

I push my salad around on my plate, my appetite still not back to what it was a month ago. I’m not sure if it’s from being sick or just my nerves being shot to hell.

“I don’t think he would go through this much effort just to put on an act to get down your pants. What would be the point? He can pretty much get any girl he wants. The dude dates models, actresses, and porn stars. If he didn’t really like you, he wouldn’t be wasting all this time, now would he? Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

Ugh. Models, actresses, and porn stars. Like I needed to be reminded of all of that.

“Evelyn, let’s get serious for a moment.” She pushes her plate away from her and leans her elbow on the table. “You know I love you like a sister. I love Michael, too. But you guys seem to have outgrown each other. He doesn’t make you laugh or take you out. He’s never home anymore. He’s completely thrown himself into work and playing golf. And that’s okay. He has every right to follow his goals. But what about your goals and dreams? You want to get married and have a baby. You want someone who makes you laugh. You want someone who will snuggle on the couch with you and watch funny movies. You need someone who will take care of you and be patient with you, but also be able to get you out of your own head. And, after years of boring, unfulfilling sex, I think a part of you is waking up and wanting a little more. Some adult romance. Some wild sex.”

“Amy!”

“It’s true, Evelyn.” She finishes off her wine. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but I have to because I love you. And I hope you don’t take this wrong because it will kill me, sweetie. I think a big part of you holding on to Michael is because he was there with you when your parents died. Your parents knew him. They liked him. I think the thought of being with a man who your parents never met scares you. I think you’re scared to move on. I know it’s scary for you to let go of someone else, Evelyn. You’ve dealt with a lot of losses. But I think you might have to be brave and let go of the security you feel with Michael and give someone else a chance or else you are going to end up miserable. I know your mom would never want you to be in an unhappy relationship. She would want you to be with someone who excites you, and takes care of you, and sends you cute little smiley faces.”

I let out a big sigh and fidget in my chair. I hate when she is always right.

“You’re right... I know you are. I’m just scared. It’s so hard to picture starting over, giving up twelve years, just so much change... I love Mike, and I know he loves me, but you’re right, we’ve become more friends and roommates. I’m not even sure when or how we got like that. I think we kind of went into denial. I really thought we would get married, have a family... and now, my head is all fucked up with Storm. I mean, I’ve only known him two weeks, but we just have this connection. But honestly, Amy, how am I supposed to even think about being in a relationship with someone like him? He travels, he sleeps around, he has money, he has women crawling all over him, and he’s amazingly sexy, he’s practically living on a different planet compared to me. How do I fit into that? I’m just little boring me. I can’t see it lasting... but he’s just so persistent that we should give it a try. I don’t know what to do.”

I can’t look at her because I know I will start to cry, and I’m afraid I might not be able to stop. She reaches across the table and holds my hand.

“I’ll always be here for you, Ev. You’re not going to be alone, I promise you. No matter what happens, I will be right here and go through it with you. Stop stressing out so much and thinking you’re not good enough for him or that you won’t fit. He’s a big boy. He knows what he wants. “

“How did I get so lucky to have you as my best friend?” A tear slides down my cheek that I quickly brush away.

“We’re both lucky. You’ve gotten me through the worst shit ever, too. Now, I want you to get your head together, okay? Allow yourself to find happiness. And ya know what? It might not last forever and that’s okay. The important part is that you’re happy and not spending your life in hiding. Now, I have to get back to work, but I can’t wait ‘til New Years to see the band play and meet Storm in person finally. Maybe he’ll autograph my boob.”

“That’s not even funny.”

I have a text from Storm waiting for me when I get back to my car.

Sto

rm: Can you call me?

Me: No. I have to get back to work

Storm: How was lunch?

Me: Good. We had a nice talk. She’s looking forward to your show. She wants you to sign her boob

Storm: LMAO I wouldn’t do that

Me: I hope not!

Storm: I wouldn’t mind signing yours tho ;)

Me: I think I can pass on that.

Storm: Can you call me tonight? On your way home maybe?

Me: I’ll try

Storm: Try hard. I miss your voice.

Smiling, I stash my phone back in my purse and head back to the office. Today is my last day, and then I have five days off for Christmas. We usually go to Michael’s mom and dad’s house for Christmas dinner, and I can’t say that I ever enjoy it. They just watch television and eat, argue with each other, exchange a gift or two, and then we leave. I try to get along with his mom and sister, but they are not overly friendly so I usually occupy myself at their house by doing the dishes or reading his mom’s gossip magazines. Growing up, my family had wonderful Christmas dinners. My mom loved the holidays. She would decorate the house while my dad would string lights all over the house and yard. He would put up those plastic lit reindeer and snowmen. As a little girl, I loved it, and I couldn’t wait to grow up and have my own house to decorate.

On my way home from work, I stop at the grocery store so I can pick up some things to cook for the next week. I’m going to bake cookies, an apple pie, and make a ham for Michael because that’s his favorite. He promised he would be home for a few days, and I want to use this time to see if we can reconnect. It takes two to tango, so if something is wrong in our relationship, half of it is my fault, too. Hopefully, if I show him more attention, he’ll come around.

My phone beeps as I’m driving home so I check it when I stop at a red-light.

Storm: Hey, I was hoping to talk to you. I’m at the studio, but I can talk for a few

Frowning, I throw my phone back into my bag. I’m not going to reply or call him. I have a car full of groceries I just bought to make all of Michael’s favorite meals over the holiday. I need to stay focused.