“It can’t be fixed,” I whispered as Callum slapped my shoulder in greeting.
“My God, Tom. I’ve found it very difficult to handle these women without you. We’ve taken a vote. You can’t leave again.”
This made me smile but it was unpracticed and he could tell something was wrong.
“You’ve been dumped,” he said.
Harper approached our little pow-wow and grabbed her husband’s hand, making my chest constrict at the idea that January and I could have been just like them. Perfect.
“You have?” Harper yells, before bringing her voice back down. “What the devil, Tom? Seriously?”
“Yeah, I have.”
Cherry wound her arm through mine and brought me close to her side. “We’re going to fix it, Tom.”
She said it so confidently, I almost believed her.
“Yes,” Harper agreed just as strongly. “It must be a mistake. Thomas Eriksson doesn’t get dumped. Girls should clamor in line to be with you.”
I smiled at her but couldn’t answer. Truth be told, I’d buried myself the second I didn’t trust January the way she deserved to be. I let my old cynical self take over and although I promised her I’d be good to her, I’d failed her.
Callum looked on his wife and kissed her temple. You could tell he was proud of her, of her loyalty. She was amazing. All the girls were. I’d need them to help me survive.
“Enough about me, lovelies. This is Kelly’s day. Let’s not detract from her.” I was obviously deflecting and they knew it but decided to let it go...for then.
The ceremony was beautiful as was the bride. I reveled in the fact that six months prior I wouldn’t have even considered showing up the day of the wedding, let alone being lovesick, for real, for an entirely different girl. I laughed to myself as I gazed on Kelly walking down the aisle and felt nothing more than admiration for a very good friend. Then I thought of January and imagined it was her timing her steps on the arm of her father. That idea sent a new wave of hurt to emanate through my chest and heart.
That was the moment I knew January should have been my very own bride. The thought of her marching toward another made me queasy and I had to grip the pew in front of me for support.
The next night, we all sat around Cherry’s deck. (Charlie’s apartment was now known as Cherry’s. That’s always how those things go, I think.) We were all drinking, except for Carter and Kelly of course, as they’d left for Fiji that morning. I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of peace around my extended family. Harper sat on Callum’s lap as they laughed as some private joke. Charlie slowly danced with Cherry. Marty, Aaron, Nat, Jared and Josiah all sat around singing, passing a bottle of wine around. Freddy, Sam, Cross and SO were inside playing a serious game of Scrabble.
I wasn’t happy, but I was as close as I was going to get to feeling a semblance of normality. Yeah, in order for you to avoid going over the deep end, dude, you’re going to have to move in with your married friends. You’re fucking pathetic.
A buzzing, ringing sound interrupted my thoughts. My phone. I barely recognized the ringtone; I hadn’t used it in so long. I dug it out of my pocket and pulled down my hoodie to answer, not bothering to check who it was.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Yo, it’s Jason.”
“Hey, J. What are you up to?”
He sighed. Not a good sign. “Nothing, man. I just needed to talk to you. Are you at Cherry’s?”
“Shit. Just say whatever it is you have to say.” My gut clenched in preparation.
“I’d really feel better if-”
“Jason, don’t effing make me wait. Just spit it out.”
“They gave Jonah the position.”
Of course they did.
“I see.”
“There were a lot of deciding factors-”
“Cut the bullshit, Jason. You and I are friends, good friends at that. No need to give me the whole song and dance after ten years. Now come over and pick me up. We’re going out. And bring a bottle of Jack for later.”
When you can’t have what you want, drinking always helps...kind of. Not really. But who the hell cares.
I kissed the girls goodbye when Jason rang me from downstairs. “Bye, Cherry Bomb,” I said to her at the door, but she pulled me in for a last minute pep talk.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Tommy Boy. You’ll regret it and you’ll spin down a shame spiral the likes of which we’ve never seen. I know you, and right now, you’re hellbent on causing irreparable damage. Just stop and think, baby.”
“I’ll try, Cher,” I said, kissing her forehead but even I knew that was a lie.
I took the stairs to the lobby and hopped in the cab with Jason. “Let’s get shitfaced.”
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Jason said, pulling out a bottle of Jack from the floorboard. “Let’s drop this off at my pad and then hit the city.”
After dropping the liquor off at Jason’s, we headed to Soho.
“Let’s make some bad decisions,” Jason said, clapping his hands together as we took two stools at the bar.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling uncomfortable already. I needed to drown that feeling out pronto.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.
“Scotch, McEwan's,” Jason said, ordering for me.
“No!” I protested, an image of January in Dublin coming to the front of my mind. “No.” I cleared my throat. “Uh, two shots of Patron, please.”
The bartender nodded.
Six shots later and I was starting to lose sensation in my gums. This was a good thing. I needed to forget, needed the torn and gaping hole in my effing chest to feel numb. Jason was dancing with a girl on the other side of the bar and all I could think was that I needed to keep drinking.
“Is this seat taken?” a gorgeous blonde asked me.
“Go ’head,” I slurred.
“What are you drinking?” she asked.
“Patron,” I told her.
My forearms had permanent dents in them from resting so harshly against the wooden bar top. She leaned into me slightly and I pushed them in further.
“Is that your friend over there?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s dancing with my friend.”
“Cool.”
“Why aren’t you dancing?” she asked, leading.
“I’m not the dancing type.” That wasn’t true. For January, I was.
“Can I get a Patron for my friend here?” she asked the bartender.
She stood so I could get full view of her figure. She was beautiful, very, yet she was nothing.
“I can buy my own drinks,” I told her.
“You’ve obviously been through something.” She sidled even closer and I was too drunk to keep her off. “It’s written all over your face,” she whispered closely. Her sickly sweet perfume enveloped me. “Let me help you forget,” she suggested, running her hand up my forearm. The touch made me sick to my stomach.
There was a time in my life where a woman like this would have been warm in my bed within the hour of meeting her. There was a time I would do those sordid things and feel almost nothing at all for it. I looked at her closely in that second and she mistook it for interest, smiling at me kindly. All I could see and think when I looked on her was that this young woman was someone’s daughter, sister, possibly mother. I was disgusted with myself knowing all this time I’d been acting like the biggest fool at the expense of so many girls. I realized I’d caused untold damage. I didn’t deserve January.
Yet looking at that girl, knowing what she was willing to do with me, I knew I would never do those things again, and not because I cared one iota for that girl. No, it was because I could never betray January like that. I loved January more than I loved myself and that was the first time I’d ever really felt that way for someone. I knew it would probably be the only time.
I was going to stay away from January MacLochlainn...because I loved her more than anyone on God’s green earth and she deserved someone as amazing as herself.
“What’s your name?” I asked the blonde.
“Kristi,” she smiled.
“Kristi, would you have sex with me tonight?” I asked honestly.
Her smile faltered for a moment but picked right back up. “Yes, I would,” she said quietly.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“I know why,” I told her, “because you don’t know your own worth. Some advice?” I stood up and gathered my hoodie, throwing it over my shoulders. “Discover why you’re important, then refuse to settle for anyone who doesn’t completely agree.”
I walked out of the busy bar, sucking in cool New York air and wishing to everything that I was going home to January because January was my home. I texted Jason, letting him know I bailed and I’d see him around, that I was heading to L.A. the next day.
I was running away, for real this time.
Six weeks later...
Thomas
L.A. was a fucking mess. I found a dozen bands worth signing and sent them Jason’s way, but I was so miserable, I barely remembered any of them. I was mechanical, even more than Austin Tom. Austin Tom was downright cheery compared to Los Angeles Tom.
In Austin, I was pissed off. Los Angeles, I was practically suicidal, depressed as hell and nearly crying into my damn pillow every single night like a damn girl. I was miserable. Every corner I turned, I thought I saw January. Every time I bought a coffee, went jogging, grocery shopping, I could smell her, hear her, feel her. She seemed to be everywhere I wanted her to be but not tangible enough to touch or kiss her. She was seared into my brain.
A month and a half into my stay, I knew I needed to see her. I just needed to drink her in, to soothe the ragged edges of my soul and just memorize her one more time. I’d do it every month if I had to. Eventually weaning myself free in a few weeks, months, okay, years.
I needed a plan.
And that plan came in the form of a phone call from Jason.
“Dude, we need you in New York,” he told me over a broken line.
“What? Why?”
“Let’s just say, the shiteth hath hitteth the fan.”
“Shut the eff up. What’s going on?”
“Just get your ass here. I’ll tell you all about it on Monday.”
I wasn’t going to fight it. A free ticket to New York? And I’d self-diagnosed myself dehydrated of January MacLochlainn. Time for your meds, Tom.
Take two Januarys a day and call me in the morning.
New York
“Thank God!” Jason said to me as I exited my cab.
I’d called a few minutes before and told him I was coming. He’d told me he’d meet me street level. This meant news to Jason. I found him smoking a cigarette. He put it out with his shoe by the time I’d closed the cab door.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
“No,” he said succinctly. “Come with me.”
“Jeez, I’m pretty effing tired of these cryptic messages from you. Last time this happened, I got stuck doing something I didn’t want to do.”