AllFreeNovel
Share Us
***
Julia got back in her car, the slam of the door rattling her bones. She pressed her head against the wheel as uncontrollable tears escaped from her unwilling eyes. She’d been through so much, endured so much to finally admit that she deserves a happy ending too, that she deserves love too. It all fell apart.
The sun began to set just over the horizon, casting hues of orange and red over rolling hills. Her forehead began to sting from the pressure of the wheel still pressed against it. Her lap was soaked with rogue tears, the river still flowing as if an overloaded dam finally broke loose. Cars thinned out of the parking lot and plane after plane zoomed overhead–the reverberation of noise shaking the windows.
Eventually she put her car into drive and did the only thing she knew how to do; she kept going. She was halfway home when a town sign for a familiar place flashed past her. She turned the car around in an unlawful U in the middle of the median and followed the signs until stark highways led to familiar beaten roads. Winding turns led to a forgotten main street with darkened shops and empty sidewalks.
She pulled into the parking lot of The Tipsy Hatter. Her hands dangled beneath the key still in the ignition. It was by chance that she missed her exit home in her foggy state–finding the sign that led her there, always a home away from home.
Eventually, she turned the car off. Walking inside, she took her usual seat, the window completely thawed out in the springtime air. The bar wasn’t crowded; only a few groups in booths and several misfits spread out amongst the stools. The stereo played music she couldn’t discern, but even that was quiet in comparison to what it usually was at that hour.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Greg said, tiptoeing over with a flourish. “I thought you forgot about us!” Julia gave a weak smile and his grin dropped. “Oh, honey,” he sighed, his hand already on the bottle of tequila as he patted on the counter for her to take a seat.
“Can I get a double?” she asked, trying to sound as steady as the facade she put on each day, but it faltered.
“The usual?” he asked, his hand pressed gently over Julia’s.
She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose as if that would make the headache go away. She turned back towards the window. There were no wandering strangers to stare at, no rush of people outside.
The wind died down and with the April air, no flurries to be seen. Everything was so still, even the few people in the bar; everything but Julia.
Greg slid her chilled glass across the counter and Julia caught it in her palm. She held it in the air as a salute to him and then downed it in two gulps. He leaned against the counter, his blond brows crinkled together.
“Another, please.” She held back the sting of the liquor.
He just looked at her, lost in the depth of her eyes. They had an unspoken agreement, and it worked for years. She would tell him if she needed to, and he wouldn’t pester if she didn’t. He was always a distant friend, no strings attached.
He sighed, reluctantly taking her glass to the other side of the bar and pouring another hefty amount into it. Squeezing it in his hands, he hesitated before handing it over. He held out the glass, but he didn’t release it as he looked into her swirling eyes. Her hand gently folded over his, her eyes pleading for sweet release.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She didn’t answer, didn’t fake a smile, didn’t shrug.
He released the glass, but she didn’t raise it to her cold lips. She buried her face instead, her elbow jostling the liquid. She didn’t have any tears left to give, but her eyes burned as if she was the one holding them back behind an iron door.
He just stood there, his presence a band aide to her cracking flesh.
“Thank you.” Julia finally looked up and tilted the glass towards him before swallowing its contents.
Greg gently pursed his lips before walking towards the other end of the bar. He knew she’d ask for another refill if he continued to stand there.
Julia set her empty glass down. She swallowed again, the last of the little bit of lava tasting liquid still tickling her tongue. At least now it wasn’t just her eyes that burned; her chest pinked with the heat, her already nauseous stomach doing somersaults within thin skin. She spun the little drip of liquor still in the bottom of the glass before her.
She ignored the buzzing of her phone on the counter–Keegan’s name repeated over dozens of texts. She turned her attention back to the old wooden-paned window.
She couldn’t see straight. It was too much alcohol settling in an empty, naïve stomach. A swarm of mistakes overtook her mind, each one stinging even deeper than the last.
Why had she been so afraid? Why didn’t she take a step back and see that sitting in the complacency took more energy than actually leaving? She put too many others, too much else first. When she finally saw the silver lining in it all, the moment was gone.
Sometimes the hardest road isn’t worth it. Sometimes we value hard work too much over everything else. Sometimes we truly think our blood, sweat, and tears will be for something, but there are those who give their life in war and still lose in the end. There are people who have nothing at all regardless of having three jobs and a shared apartment with two other families.
No one ever said life was fair; we just all assume it will work out that way in the end. We assume–whatever your religion or lack of one is–that someone, something out there, sees you and has a plan. We assume that there’s a reason behind the hard choices, the hard consequences, the pain. But there isn’t. The world is a fucked up and messy place, and sometimes someone has to lose for another to win.
Julia rested her head on the counter, catching that glint of green out of her bag. Sitting up, she pulled the scarf from its hiding place. She held it in front of her, the silky fabric melting in her hands. Slowly, she raised it to her nose–that cozy, sweet scent swirling around her. At first, it warmed her entire body, but then reality sunk in. She’s gone. She’s really gone.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice unsteadily hummed behind her.
She turned towards the warm smell of vanilla, the subtle waves of pear and honeysuckle. Those messy coffee curls bounced as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She locked onto those evergreen eyes and nothing else ever mattered more again.
“The seat,” Erin repeated with a weary smile.
