whiplash

I called Lily in the hours after I’d kicked Niall from my house and she came immediately, the savior that she has always been, holding me until I stopped crying. She called Niall every filthy name I’d ever heard and even a few of them I hadn’t. She even had the decency to not say the dreaded phrase, ‘I told you so’. Admittedly, I really wanted what Niall had said to be true. I really wanted it to have all been an unquestionably dumb, insanely ill thought out joke because that seemed like something he would find funny even if anyone else could see exactly why it wasn’t. I spent my time wondering if he was going to try to contact me, lying in bed cradled in a cocoon of blankets, only emerging for the bathroom and mugs of hot tea. I still live under the impression that a cup of tea can solve most problems. Though, no matter how many I drank, the outlook of this one never got any better.

Days went by, then a week. I didn’t feel like leaving the seclusion of my apartment so I called out of work every single day of that week. I said I had the flu and my boss, who could hear the sound of sickness in my voice, believed me. Too bad it wasn’t actually the flu. Sickness of the heart is a lot harder to deal with, in my opinion. At least with the flu, there is an end in sight, a time in the near future when you will no longer feel like your body is trying to destroy itself. Heartache, unfortunately, doesn’t work like that. Even when you think it’s gone, when you think you’re finally over it all, that the past is a distant memory, you will see something on television, hear a song on the radio, or catch a whiff of a familiar scent and there it is all over again, every fiber of your being aching for a long lost love that you’d thought you’d let go of but you actually didn’t at all.

So, yes, I’d much rather have the flu, than the hell that is heartache.

I sat there on that late Friday afternoon, thinking about how I’d wasted an entire week feeling sorry for myself and then feeling pitiful that I was being so pitiful. It was a vicious cycle. I was actually angry with myself over the whole thing, silently berating myself to the background noise of infomercials playing on the television. A knock on the door distracted me and I stood up from my self made nest on the couch and walked to it, thinking the entire time that it was just Lily popping over after work. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Lily standing there.

I looked like a fucking disaster and there stood Jamie, in all his glory, holding up a brown paper bag from the deli across the street.

“I brought you soup.” He’d said with such a precious smile that I had to try not to cry again at how much an idiot I had been.

I ushered him into the apartment and attempted to take the bag from him, but he only brushed away hands and told me to have a seat and relax while he brought me a bowl. When I’d ask what he was doing here he’d said our boss had told him how sick I was and he’d remembered having the flu last year.

“I thought you could use a little company and some chicken soup.” He popped his head out of my kitchen and asked, “Want me to make you some tea too?”

This sweet, adorable man brought me soup all because he thought I was sick. When he sat down across from me after setting down a steaming bowl of delicious smelling golden liquid and a warm mug of ginger tea (to help with my stomach he’d explained) I felt terrible for lying to him.

I looked up at him with tear filled eyes and couldn’t stop myself from crying and because Jamie is most obviously not your typical man he moved to sit next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, risking the potential flu and all.

He tried to soothe me with kind words. “It’s okay, Harper, it doesn’t last forever. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Jamie, I’m not sick. I don’t have the flu."I cried out and instead of looking confused he only looked concerned. I knew right then that I couldn’t lie to him about this and I let it all out. Every ugly thing spilled out of my mouth. I told him about Niall, about meeting him, and about how it all turned into this crazy fucked up situation that I let go on too long. I finished with a simple shake of my head. "I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Oh Harper, no, you’re not an idiot.” He soothed, his voice quiet and calm but raising as he continued. “He’s the goddamn idiot. You are not.” The anger in his voice made my head shoot up to look at him. His jaw clenched over and over again, his face showing his frustration and annoyance with what I had just told him. “I know who you’re talking about. I see stuff about him on telly from time to time and he’s like Ireland’s little prince at the moment. But Harper, that is not how a man treats a woman and you are a woman who deserves much more than a few one night stands and a public brush off. If that’s all he thought of you then it’s his fucking loss and he’s the idiot.” He leaned back against the couch with a huff, his arm still wrapped around my shoulders loosely. “Who the fuck acts like that anyway? His mother should beat the shit out of him.”

His comment had a watery giggle escaping me and he looked over at me with a soft smile. “She should. Me mum would rim me up one side and down the other if she knew I’d acted like that. That is not how Irish boys are raised.” He looked at me seriously. “Not good ones at least.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder and used a tissue to wipe the left over tears from my face. “I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you, Jamie.”

His hand rubbed up and down my arm a few times as he rested his cheek on the top of my head. “That’s what friends are for, to listen to you cry when you need to but also tell you that that guy has his head stuck up his arse.”

I outright laughed at that and realized that it was the first time since that terrible day that I had.

Just talking to Jamie made me feel better. He spent the rest of the evening with me, making me eat and also watching really dumb television with me. We made plans to meet for breakfast the next day because he said he could tell I needed to get out my apartment. As he stood at the door telling me goodbye, he shook his keys at my face. “And I’m coming to pick you up so you can’t cancel on me. Got it.” I gave him a small smile that he returned before placing a soft kiss on my forehead and whispering against my skin. “Now go take a shower Harper. You look like shit.”

I laughed and pushed his chest away from me. “Thanks, Jamie. You’re such a sweet friend.”

“I know.” He shrugged, grinning before waving goodbye as he made his way down the hallway.

I shut the door behind him, feeling better about everything. I even decided to take his advice and get in the shower. No more wallowing in self pity for me. Niall was an asshole and I was better off without him. That would be my new mantra.

Breakfast, which actually became brunch because I overslept only to awoken by my phone ringing and Jamie knocking on my door, was a lovely experience. I had Jamie to thank for my nights sleep too. I went to bed and didn’t toss and turn like I had been for the last week. I slept a dreamless sleep, the figure of Niall finally absent from my brain and my body was relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. While we ate Jamie talked, telling me how he felt after I told him everything yesterday. His words washed over me and covered me like a warm blanket, his concern touching me and making me realize even more how ridiculous this entire affair was.

Jamie made me feel even better about everything than I could have imagined. I finally felt like I didn’t need to be sad. I mean, I still was but now I knew that I could let it go eventually. As we sat there, he told me stories from when he was a kid in Ireland and had me laughing until tears were streaming down my face. It was so nice to sit with a man and do nothing but laugh and talk. What Jamie and I had was easy going and friendly, exactly what I needed. I knew then that he was going to be an important friend to me and maybe not dating because of work had been a blessing in disguise. Plus, I did not need another man. Not after the disaster of the last one.

Another week went by and I was feeling surprisingly better about everything still. Though I was still sad, I also knew that I was better off. No one needs to feel like that all the time. I didn’t realize that behind all that crazy lust and passion, there was a lot of stress, a lot of worry, and a whole fucking lot of anxiety coming from never knowing where I stood. I had gone back to work and everything was starting to feel much more normal. Thank God. Being sad all the time was exhausting. My naturally buoyant personality didn’t like being held down for long periods of time and always found a way to rise to the top again. Laughing with Jamie on a daily basis helped along with listening to Lily’s daily boyfriend rants. I felt grateful that I had both of them as friends.

It was just after a night out at the pub with the two of them that I realized just how grateful I was.
I had come back to my apartment, Jamie having dropped me home earlier than usual, our busy week finally catching up to me. I had taken a hot shower, piled my hair on top of my head and was ready to watch some telly before going to bed at a stupidly early hour for a 20 something. I was sitting there mulling over my previous conversation with Lily, who had gone on an exceptionally long tirade about my love life before I told her to can it. But most of what she had said was right and most of it was something that I had heard from Jamie also. I was just getting ready to turn off the television when I got distracted by my phone vibrating next to me. Thinking it was probably one of the two people I was just with, I picked it up. My entire body froze when I read the name.

Niall.

Three weeks with nothing, not an apology, not a word, and now he texts me. I felt a surge of anger roll through me as I opened it and read his words.

“Hey, Harps, ya still mad at me ? Thought maybe we could hang out tonight . Your place ?”

I wanted to scream. He didn’t even have the decency to say he was sorry for how he’d acted but he thought he could just fall right back in between my legs that easily. I didn’t think so. Everything that Lily and Jamie had said to me over the past few weeks came rushing back to me. All the reasons for why this thing was so incredibly toxic staring me right in the face, complete with bad punctuation.

I picked up my phone and typed out a response with a sneer on my face.

“Yeah, it’s a no from me.”
“And I thought I told you to lose my fucking number.”
“This is one 'fan’ that’s fucking done.”
“Asshole.”

The moment I hit send, it was like something in my chest was let go. I felt lighter than I had in weeks. I was finally free.

But all of that was six months ago and everything is different now. Well, not so different I guess. I am still free of the asshole, so there’s that. Life is actually really good. I am single and I really don’t care. After the entire pop star debacle, I didn’t want anything serious and being single never felt so good. Jamie and I are still really good friends. I count him as one of my best. That hasn’t stopped Lily from pushing me in his direction every chance she gets. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her that it’s not happening.

Take tonight for instance. Jamie is off in the loo when Lily elbows me with raised brows. I just roll my eyes.

“It’s not gonna happen, Lily. You can quit trying now.” I say, exasperatedly.

She motions towards the empty seat at our table. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’d be a fool not to pass that up!”

I laugh, “Lily! He doesn’t look at me any sort of way! He’s my friend. Only my friend.”

She scoffs, “Honey, friends don’t look at each other like that.”

I roll my eyes again. “For the millionth time, Lil, it’s not going to happen. You’ve got to let it go.”

She starts in again. “But…”

I hold a hand up, shushing her, “No. We work together. We both love our jobs. That’s just a problem waiting to happen.”

She giggles and takes a sip of her drink. “Sounds like my kind of problem. A few copy room shenanigans, maybe?”

I just laugh at her dreamy look. “It’s never gonna happen. Enjoy your daydreams, my friend. Maybe its you that wants him. Things getting boring with the man at home? Looking to spice things up with some Irish flair?”

Lily is about to respond, but Jamie returns, making her stop short. She narrows her eyes and glares at me over her drink.

Later on when Jamie is dropping us off back at my place, I catch her eye when Jamie kisses her cheek and she blushes while I try not to laugh. After promises of brunch on Sunday, we walk inside. She punches my arm in the elevator, whispering harshly, “That blush was all your fault, ya know!”

I snort. “Mmmhmm. I’m sure.”

“It was! I was completely fine until you pointed it out! Now I’m all blushy for no reason.” I can’t help the laugh that falls out of my mouth and I laugh harder when she punches me again. “Stop! This is all your fault!”

I open my front door, reminding her of her boyfriend. “Think about Ben then. The perfect, beautiful Ben.”

Lily walks in, setting her things down on the coffee table before collapsing on the couch.

“Speaking of the perfect, beautiful Ben, I’ve got some news.”

My eyes go wide expecting to see some rock on her finger, though they haven’t been dating that long, so I’m not sure why that was my immediate reaction. I guess that’s just the first thing girls think of when your friend says she has news. She’s either getting married or she’s pregnant.
She can see where my mind is and she bursts out laughing. “I’m not engaged Harper. It’s only been seven months. Calm your tits.”

“Did you just tell me to calm my tits?” I ask, incredulously before we both start giggling
uncontrollably because sometimes our humor level rest at preteen boy.

When we finally calm down, Lily continues. “What I was going to say until your brain jumped through eight hoops to land in giant conclusion land was that I introduced Ben to my parents.”

I smile knowingly at her because Lily is a very private person and she keeps her relationships secret from her family until she really feels like they are going somewhere. She must really think that Ben is someone important if she braved the waters of her mother and father. “Aw! That’s great! How did it go?”

She starts to talk and I watch as her expression turns dreamy. My friend is totally and completely in love and I am beyond happy for her. “You know Ben. He, of course, practically charmed the pants off my mother. She was a giggly mess and my dad just sat there with his arms crossed, watching his wife of 30 years get her panties in a twist over my boyfriend. It was adorable. Afterwards, he said, 'If I didn’t see the way you look at my dear Lily I’d be worried my wife might run off with you.’ We all had a big laugh at that. It went so perfectly that I feel like something is going to go wrong soon. Nothing can be this perfect, can it?”

Here it is, the worry that I knew was coming. “Lily, why do you think something bad has to happen when it’s going great?”

She huffs and throws herself back on the cushions. “I don’t know! But it just seems like our lot, ya know?”

Sadly, I know exactly what she means.

I tuck my fingers under her chin the way my mother always did to me when I was little and she locks eyes with me. “It’s going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. You just really like him so you’re worried. But, trust me, I’ve seen the way Ben looks at you. He’s in love with you.” I drop my hand and Lily whispers something that I don’t catch so I ask, “What?”

She looks up at me with a small smile. “He told me he loved me yesterday. The first time he’d ever said it.”

I wrap my arms around her and hug her, so grateful that she’s happy. “That’s amazing, Lily. Ben is amazing! I’m so happy for you.”

Her phone buzzes from the table and she breaks our hug, grabbing it. “Speaking of prince charming…” She quickly answers his text, a girlish grin on her face the entire time. Looking up at me, the smile still on her face, she explains, “I should really go. Ben’s at my place with a bottle of wine.”

“Oooooh.” I tease her as she stands up, gathering her things.

She shoots me a bird before checking her pockets and then glancing around for her keys.

“Dammit. Please tell me I did not lose them again.”

I laugh because Lily loses her keys more than any person I know. “Check the couch cushions. Maybe they fell in there.”

I reach down and start to dig around in the crack of the couch, my fingers finally touching the cold metal of her keys and I pull them out triumphantly. I hold them up, jingling them in front of her face, but she doesn’t notice. Her eyes are fixed on a small object in her hand. “What’s that?” I ask, but she quickly pulls it behind her back, looking at me worriedly. Her expression has me concerned. “What did you find, Lily?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. It’s just trash.” She says as she back slowly towards my kitchen garbage.

I hold my hand out. “No. Give it to me. I want to know what it is.”

She lets out a long sigh, stopping in her tracks halfway to the kitchen. “It would really be better if I just threw it away.”

Now I’m completely confused. “Lily! What on earth could you have found in my couch that you think is going to destroy me so thoroughly?”

She sighs once more, bringing her hand from behind her back and holding up what looks like a small piece of plastic. “This.”

I take a step towards her and my chest clenches as I finally realize what it is, a guitar pick, the initials 'NH’ stamped on one side. I swallow hard, ignoring the feelings roiling in my stomach. I put on an unconcerned air. “What is that? A guitar pick?” I pluck it from her fingers and twirl it in my own, like it’s no big deal. “It probably fell out of Niall’s pocket one day when he was here forever ago.” I walk over to the trash can and toss it on top of all the garbage. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

When I turn back to face Lily, she looks astonished. “I didn’t think that was how that was going to go at all.”

I put my arm around her shoulders as we walk to the door. “It’s been six months. Niall was an asshole and I’m better off without him.”

She chuckles, wrapping her arms around me and holding me close. “I’m proud of you, Harper. I’ll see you tomorrow night for the show. Love you.” She kisses my cheek with one last glance at me, making sure I’m okay. Whatever she sees must convince her because she leaves without another word.

I close the door behind her and try not to think about all the things going around my head right now. Instead, I decide to clean up the apartment and then go to bed. I think I walk past the trash can at least fifteen times in the thirty minutes it takes me to pick up. Each time it feels like that stupid little piece of white plastic is yelling at me, the dumb little ram staring at me. Why do I even care about this dumb pick. I haven’t thought about Niall in months and now it’s like I’m reliving it all over again. Eventually I turn off the kitchen light and walk out of the room, beginning my bedtime routine by brushing my teeth until I find myself, toothbrush hanging from my mouth, marching back out to the kitchen, flicking the light on and staring down at the dumb thing still sitting in my trash. I scrub my mouth, thinking about what exactly I am doing. Finally, I scoff and flick the light off again, leaving the room. I rinse my mouth, pull on pj’s and hop into bed. I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable and end up staring at the ceiling.

“Harper, you’re being an idiot.” I start to talk out loud. “Why do you even care about a dumb guitar pick?” I close my eyes for a moment and a memory floats to the front of my brain.
Niall is sitting on my couch, thoughtfully strumming his guitar and I can’t keep my eyes off of him. Everything about him is intoxicatingly gorgeous. He must have felt me watching him because he looks up, catching my eye, his brows raising at the look on my face. I pull my lower between my teeth and grin. Niall stops his playing and tucks the pick between his lips, sets his guitar gently to the floor, then tosses the pick behind him as he tackles me.

I shake my head, clearing the memory with a sigh, the sounds of my giggles and Niall’s rough voice fading into the dark bedroom. I secretly hate how great the sex always was, literally the best I’ve ever had. There was not one time I was ever disappointed, at least not during the act. The afterwards left much to be desired. Maybe that’s why I shut the thought of something with Jamie down so quickly, I like him too much for him to be the disappointing man after Niall. But maybe that’s all Niall was ever supposed to be, the guy that was great in bed. Oh God. What if Niall is forever the best I ever get?

Fuck. I’ll be screwed and so will every other guy I date.

I shut my eyes briefly, thinking about him tossing that pick behind him before opening them again with a huff. Throwing off the blankets, I climb out of bed and hiking back to the kitchen, I turn on the light. I grab the stupid thing from the top of the can and turn it over in my fingers. The NH staring back at me, taunting me. I scrunch my face up, thinking. With a noise of derision, I set it on the corner of my countertop, leaving it there and going back to bed.

I’ll deal with these feelings tomorrow.

That night I dreamed about Niall for the first time in months and I knew that this day was going to be an interesting one to say the least. It’s Saturday, my usual day for really cleaning. I mean this is the day that I clean the microwave and vacuum and do laundry, all the crap that’s built up over the week. Plus I’ve got the concert tonight with Jamie and Lily. It’s a busy day.

Starting in the lounge, I avoid looking at the pic laying so inconspicuously on the corner of my counter but it won’t leave my head. For the first time in months I’m wondering what Niall is doing at this very moment and then I’m left wondering why do I care? I huff, dropping my duster on the table, walking into the kitchen, grabbing the pick and tossing into the garbage. Not even two minutes go by before I’m back in the kitchen fishing it out of the trash only to throw it away once more.

I do not need this reminder of Niall.

I put on some music and get to really cleaning the place, dancing around the room to the voice of Stevie Nicks, singing along with her every word. I lose myself in the music for a while, that is until I remember a conversation Niall and I once had about how not enough younger people really appreciate music like Fleetwood Mac. Both of us grew up with dad’s that introduced us to stuff like that. It was one of the many things we had in common. I shake my head, not wanting to remind myself more of Niall and I switch the song as I walk into the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge. I take a long sip of water and then almost choke when Niall’s voice fills my house.

“Goddammit.” I say as I pound my finger into the next button. I honestly thought I took off all the One Direction from my phone. I guess I missed a few. I glance down at the trash and the stupid pick is mocking me. “Oh, fuck off.” I growl, walking out of the room, but returning a second later and pulling it out again, setting it on the counter.

The day continued much in that same fashion. I probably threw away and pulled that fucking pick from my trash fifteen more times before I finally left it on the counter and went to get ready for the show tonight. We were just seeing a local singer songwriter play, but it was going to be nice to get my mind off of everything. Lily came over early, we got ready and then Jamie picked us up. The venue was tiny but comfortable. It felt cozy. We sat back on velvet sofas, sipped pints, and let the smooth voice and clean guitar transfix us. It was a beautifully simple night. It set my mind at ease.

Now I’m riding home in Jamie’s car and I know what I have to do. He drops me off and I watch him pull away from the curb, his hand stuck out the window, waving and I smile to myself. Once upstairs, I walk into my flat with only one mission in mind, throwing away that goddamn pick once and for all. I find it exactly where I left it, perched on the corner, looking completely docile and not at all like its the reason for my sudden madness. I pick it up, my eyes narrowing and my lips pursed in an annoyed pucker and stare at it. Why does this mean so much to me?

I don’t like it.

I don’t want it.

I don’t want him.

I’m done.

I throw it into the can, letting go for the last time.

Sleep comes easily tonight. I rest in a dreamless state until I’m rousted out of it by the buzzing of my phone against the wood of my bedside table. I grope for it bleary-eyed, looking at the clock that reads three a.m. and wondering who could be calling me at this hour? I blink over and over, trying to focus on the tiny words on the screen. My eyes must be playing tricks on me because there’s no way that the name I see should be calling me right now. Why is this happening? It doesn’t make any sense. My chest feels like it’s burning. But there is no mistaking the name scrolling across my screen.

It’s Niall.

Notes