Just Another Reason I Could Never Forget You

It was the 22nd. Christmas was days away and I was still stuck in my rut. I’d decided some days ago that after the holidays were over, I’d finally get around to getting a job and make some attempt to move out of my childhood bedroom. I’d been talking to Alex more than I actually admitted to Marissa, though the knowing looks she sent me whenever I saw her told me Jack had some inkling and therefore Marissa knew everything, even the things I didn’t know. My admission on my porch had somehow brought us closer, without ever being discussed again. I’d thought about reaching out to John based purely on the guilt I felt about not missing him, but this was the worst possible time to do so, and so I’d let it rest.
While it had only been a handful of days since I had pulled Alex out of bed, I felt like he’d taken it as his chance to talk to me, to reform our relationship into the friendship we could have had for the last few months if we’d both been reasonable about it. Given I’d never been friends with an ex before, I didn’t really know how it was supposed to work, so of course I was sat in his kitchen with his mom and my own making Christmas desserts (I was not, in fact, contributing much). Alex had sauntered in an hour ago, smirked at me while I was covered in flour and whatever sticky, syrup I had been using, made coffee and left the building.
He'd left me a cup.
Our mothers had stared at us both and our interaction the entire time we had been in the room; in the room where we looked at each other only once and didn’t exchange a single word. They’d also stared at me every time I took a sip of the coffee that he’d left me. I wish they’d been more attentive to the mess I was making with dessert because by the time it came out of the oven later in the day, it had collapsed and could not be saved. I could absolutely bake if given an appropriate recipe, I could also cook reasonably well, but leave me with vague instructions and throw Alex in my way out of the blue and nothing was going to work out. Luckily, Isobel and my mom were capable of multitasking and had prepared many other options, so my disaster came across more as a mild inconvenience.
“So, are we going to discuss it?” My mother asked as the three of us sat down in the lounge, waiting for our desserts to cool supposedly. I was drinking yet another coffee, instant and less indulgent this time than the one Alex had left me (the one made to perfection, with my teenage melodramatic demands in mind), and they had both joined me, in need of caffeine to perk them after all the work they’d done so far this morning.
“Discuss what?” I asked, after Isobel remained quiet, though stared at me as if that was my cue to speak.
“The elephant in the room.”
“What elephant?” I knew, of course, exactly which ‘elephant’ she was referring to, but if she was going to get me to gossip with her about my love life and her friend’s son, I was going to make her work for it.
“You know exactly what elephant,” she huffed. I felt an involuntary quirk at the side of my mouth, a reaction still embedded from my teenage joy in exasperating her. I suppressed it and remained quiet.
“She means,” Isobel interjected, saving us both from our own stubbornness, “we would like to know what’s going on with you and Alex.”
“Nothing. Friends.” I shrugged, not sure what else there was to say about it.
“The two of you talk constantly, except when someone else is around. That doesn’t feel like friends.” I eyed my mother, not sure when she became so irritatingly observant. I wasn’t hiding my conversations with Alex, but we both knew better than to gush at each other about our woes in front of our mothers. Admittedly, I hadn’t said anything to Marissa either, but that was out of fear of those ridiculous knowing looks I got from her whenever I said the word ‘Alex’.
“I don’t know what you mean. We’re just friends. He’s got shit to do, I’ve got shit to do, we talk sometimes and have fun. That’s it.”
Isobel scoffed at my words and I raised an eyebrow at her, silently telling her to explain herself without actually having the balls to say the words out loud.
“He stopped seeing a girl because of you.”
“When?” I frowned. Aside from that one date he told me about, I hadn’t known Alex had been seeing anyone and he had insisted it hadn’t gone well. We hadn’t discussed his dating life since either, given that our friendship was back in its fledgling stages and because it just hadn’t come up. I might have avoided the subject somewhat, but Alex would have told me if there was anything I should know. He’d definitely had his chance the other night, and, jokingly or otherwise, wouldn’t have suggested I come to bed with him. As much as I wanted to hang on to the angry view I’d had of him the past two years, I knew Alex wouldn’t intentionally do that shit again.
“When was he seeing her or when did he stop? Because he was seeing her while you were back in Arizona and he stopped the moment he came back from touring.”
“Wait, that girl he went on one date with? Just before we went back on tour?” I didn’t know if Alex had been dating more than one girl at the time, given the girl in question hadn’t been identified as his girlfriend specifically, I assumed it wasn’t exclusive and he could therefore see whoever he pleased. Isobel laughed at my words, shaking her head.
“I think we’re talking about the same girl, but it wasn’t one date. More like five or six,” she replied. “I think when you visited it was date number three or four. I hate to think about it, but it had been enough dates that I was surprised to see him come home that night.” I felt a small pang of involuntary jealousy at the thought of Alex going on enough dates with her that his mother expected him to spend the night, before feeling my entire body relaxing at the realisation that he hadn’t spent the night. It was hypocritical of me, I know, given I had been in an actual relationship and spent more than one night with someone else, but I was beginning to feel myself becoming more and more invested in this softer side of Alex, who was still telling me off and matching my sarcasm with more sarcasm, while simultaneously looking after me and making me smile all the god damn time. His sweet, small gestures had me melting, as much as I never wanted to do this again or admit anything to anyone. I’d said nothing to anyone, and I knew he’d be the first person I’d tell if I ever felt like we could make a go of it again. No more messing around like teenagers, just openness, honesty, and him and me.
I felt my insides tangle at the idea: us. Alex and I, curled up and ruining each other’s plans in good ways and not the ways we’d once excelled at. If I ever, ever felt like I had ‘forever’ with anyone, it would have been him. It was him. It always would be.
“You see how much tension she let out when you said he hadn’t slept with someone else?” My mom pointed out while I was still crashing through my series of revelations at breakneck speed.
“And she says she has no intentions with my son,” Isobel scoffed in response.
“Can you guys not?” I whined. “I get it, I do. Alex was good for me, and I was good for him, and we kept each other in line when our raging teenage hormones were telling us to do something outlandish just for a reaction.But I’m not looking for anything right now, least of all another relationship based on who we think the other person is. We’re not the same kids who fell in love and had drama after drama and I’m grateful for that, but it also means I’m not the girl Alex was in love with and he’s not the boy I was in love with. We’re just... friends. And it’s nice.”
“He’s also no longer the boy who broke your heart, sweetie,” my mom responded softly.
“I know, and I’ve thought about that a lot. I’m not... against trying it again,” I admitted, trying to pick my words carefully so they didn’t get over excited by my words when I wasn’t changing my mind at all. “I’m just not going to do it based on a two-year-old love drunk idea of him and I’m not going to let him even attempt to try us again if that’s his headspace.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Do you see my point?”
“We do,” Isobel responded, nodding. “But your mother and I both know that neither of you has changed fundamentally. And I know that my son is acting like he’s falling in love with you all over again, so I can promise you his ‘headspace’ isn’t on the old you regardless.”
This time, I stayed silent. The decision I’d made to tell him how I felt the other night returned, but I didn’t want to discuss that here. Alex would be the first person I told, if I ever went through with it. I was terrified of it, of him and me and ‘us’, no matter how much the thought softened everything else I felt. I knew I loved Alex, I’d always known it, but I was scared of the pain, of the awkwardness and Jack getting on my back because, in the end, he was right. Alex and I had the power to rip each other apart, inch by inch, and we wouldn’t notice until it was too late.
But he’d put me back together. He’d ripped me apart, watched me love another man, and he stayed and helped build me back into me. John had let me love again, taught me to be more open, but Alex had given me back myself, encouraged me in everything I’d ever wanted to do, would be my biggest cheerleader forever if I let him. If he let me.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the time I finally said it, finally acted on what I felt and got everything I ever wanted.
I could do this.

Notes