Loved - A Novel Read online

  Next I called Dad to tell him I wanted to go home to Nashville. I think he was relieved but he never said that. He just said, “Okay, whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

  I began to pack the car to drive three days by myself back to Nashville. I gave myself one day to take care of everything that I needed to take care of and I would leave the next day.

  On day one of the drive, I saw my first dome sky. The world was so flat that I could see the level horizon all around me and the sky looked like a dome. Skies like that will give you perspective when nothing else will. The second day, a tumbleweed blew across the interstate. I’m in a western movie, I said to myself, laughing. I found it so much easier to laugh now that this weight had been lifted from my shoulders. That night I stayed in Albuquerque and had dinner at an Applebee’s near the hotel. I was truly enjoying being on my own without any plans other than to follow Interstate 40 East.

  The third day my old rock star neighbor from L.A. called.

  “I just haven’t seen you around lately,” he said, “so I thought I’d call and see how you were.”

  “I’m great, thanks. I left in May but I was back there last week.”

  “And where do you live the rest of the time?”

  “Nashville.”

  “Well that’s great,” he said. “You take care and let me know when you’re in town again.”

  “I will!”

  I can’t believe he just called me, I told myself. Your life is weird.

  A week later I found out he died in his L.A. apartment.

  Life really is weird.

  August, 2004.

  Anna and I moved into our apartment a week before graduation. Everything I owned except for what I had in my car was in storage. My parents were planning to bring it all with them when they came up for graduation. I slept on my bedroom floor until then. At least I have a home now.

  My favorite thing about the apartment was my walk-in closet. It was deep and had so much space that I could organize my clothing like I had been taught at Betsey Johnson: light colors to dark, lighter fabrics to heavier, sleeveless to long-sleeved. Sometimes, I would lay on the floor in my closet and look up at the variety of fabrics and colors above me. Each one so unique, coming together to create a collection that described me in all the ways I can be seen. Some days I wore a hot pink T-shirt and ripped jeans, another day I was in a black dress with thin straps and lace trim across the skirt. Sometimes, it was brown boots with cropped tweed pants and a deep turquoise satin camisole.

  I got a job in retail. Betsey Johnson had replaced me and didn’t have an open spot but there was a store that was moving to a new space in the mall and wanted extra help. The manager was by-the-book and very good at what she did. I liked her right away, though I was a little scared of her too. She lived and breathed her job. I’ve always had so much respect for people with that kind of passion. I became the pant expert, familiar with every fit, every fabric and every color. I could look at a customer and tell her not only which fit would flatter her figure but which size would fit best and what we had available.

  I hated what I had to wear to work. I had worn clothes from the store in high school and college and was tired of them. After Betsey Johnson, these clothes were vanilla compared to Chunky Monkey; classic, sure, but bland. Better mixed with other things. My personal style was developing just as my personality was. Even just a little, I was becoming surer of both.

  Things were starting to go a little better now that I was feeling settled. I had Anna, an old friend by now, and then there was Lacey, with whom I was going to the same young church we’d found before I went to L.A. She was also my shopping buddy and the only friend I would share clothes with. However, Sophie was becoming my closest friend. It seemed that she was everything I had been searching for.

  Sophie was the best singer I’d heard at Belmont and that’s saying a lot. There are some seriously talented people at Belmont. Sophie could sing anything and make it sound like her own, as though the melody had been written for her voice alone and the lyrics from her own life. We spent a lot of our time the same ways, reading and listening to music. We always had so much to talk about between our favorite bands, the guys we were interested in and our goals for the future.

  Sophie moved out to our neighborhood, across the complex from the place I shared with Anna. I took her to her first Dave Matthews Band concert. We watched all of the Steelers football games together. Our lives aligned so easily.

  I stopped in at Betsey Johnson one day that fall and chatted with one of the girls that I had worked with there before. She told me they were hiring part time. She scheduled me for an interview with Lily, the manager that I had loved working for, and within minutes of the interview Lily hired me back.

  Since the position was only part time, I needed something else. I couldn’t work at both stores due to conflict of interest rules so Anna got me a job at Starbucks where I got to work with her and Sophie. I trained alongside Jen, another new girl. We tasted all kinds of coffees and espressos. I could tell the difference in the flavors—one nutty, another one with a hint of berry—but I didn’t enjoy the taste of any of them. I preferred the Chai lattes and caramel macchiatos.

  I didn’t quite know where my life was going but now that I’d decided to live in Nashville and I had an apartment and a job, I felt much more at ease with whatever direction my life might take from there. I wasn’t lost anymore. Even if I didn’t know where I was going, I knew where I was starting from.

  September, 2004.

  Now that Chase wasn’t in school and was considering moving out of PA, it seemed the first realistic opportunity we had for a future together. We still wanted the same things: an artists’ life in the city, brick walls and our love. I decided this was the time to really go for it and if we couldn’t make it work this time, then I was going to have to let go.

  I was at home, painting flowers on a new canvas—my newest hobby—when I decided on a bold romantic gesture. I painted “I’m Still In Love With You” on a piece of notebook paper and balanced it between the wings of the angel statue he’d given me so many years before. I took a picture, uploaded it to my new laptop and emailed it to him with the subject, “Just a Note...”

  Sept 23 “Not Just a Note”

  Kit - That means so much to me. What a breath of fresh air, thank you. I was looking through pics yesterday (cleaning) and saw my box of notes from you. It was then that I realized how I had fucked up by letting you go. I’m trying to clean up and going to narcotics anonymous meetings a lot, and it’s nice becoz’ feelings are coming out again and inspirations as well. Unfortunately, or hopefully fortunately, I’m also still very much in love with you. I was walking the other day and I saw a lil statue, not as cool as the one I got you, but it made me miss you. I absolutely want “this” to go somewhere. I don’t know what to say right now coz’ there’s so much distance between us, ya know? But I do love you and I can’t stop thinking about you. A great thing about you is how you make me feel about myself. I feel like I’ve been wasting my time since we’ve been apart. It was truly magical when we were together, at least I’d like to think so and I’d love to get that back. I dunno, I don’t really know what to say. I’m kinda nervous to be honest with you, but I think that’s a good thing. I love you.

  Take pains, be perfect...

  Shakespeare

  Narcotics anonymous? I had known he smoked pot with friends sometimes, but I didn’t think it was that serious. I wondered if this was just a new way for him to try and fix himself. Regardless, it seemed that my bold gesture was worth it. I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone else. Who else would understand me from the glitter to the grit and appreciate all of it? Who else would I see for all the cracks in his heart, the battle of hope against hopelessness that he was always fighting? Who else would fight alongside him like I would?

  For just a moment, it looked like all of this believing in love was about to pay off. Then a cold wind blew out my candle.
/>   Oct 1, 2004

  So I don’t even know what I’m doing right now, Kit. Jana and I broke up not even ten days ago, and to be perfectly honest, I’m still grieving and I’m not emotionally or physically ready to jump into something else. I’m an emotional wreck, and even though I know in my head how much better you are for me and how good and right and encouraging and hopeful and positive you are, I don’t know if I can be what you want me to be right now. Yes, I do still have feelings for you, but I don’t know in what capacity. I feel like shit doing this to you, becoz’ I know you don’t deserve it, and I feel even worse that I didn’t have the balls to tell you this over the phone...but I guess that goes to show even more what kind of person I am. I am sorry, but I couldn’t go on holding this in much longer. Please don’t hate me too much. I will talk to you soon.

  Chase

  Well, that was it. He hadn’t even said he’d been dating anyone in the first place. Now I knew that it was time to move on. We were far more separated that I ever wanted to believe. I had loved him more than anyone else, but it was over now. I didn’t know how to believe that it wasn’t him. I didn’t know how to even begin to picture myself with someone else. I didn’t know if I could let anyone else in. But I was going to have to try.

  I threw his framed picture off my balcony just to hear my heart break.

  One rainy November afternoon I was sitting at Starbucks reading a book. I wasn’t scheduled to work that day, but since I had become friends with a lot of the baristas it was fun to just go and hang out, plus it was a great day for a good book.

  Jen came to sit with me on her break.

  “What are you reading?”

  “White Oleander,” I said, “my favorite book. I read it every year.”

  “It’s that good?”

  “Unbelievably.”

  “Cool. I’m bored. We’ve been slow today. Hey, what are you doing this weekend? It’s my birthday Friday so I’m going out to Virago with some people.”

  “Yeah, Anna told me,” I replied. “I think we’re planning to come.”

  “Good. There’s actually this guy who’s going to be there that I think you should meet.”

  “Does he like Counting Crows and Dave Matthews Band?” I asked.

  “Yes!”

  “Okay, then.”

  Jen told me his name was Chad. She had been very good friends with him since they were kids. She said he was a good guy, a very good guitar player and a good kisser. I thought it was strange that she wanted me to go out with a guy she had kissed but she insisted it was weird when they kissed because they were such good friends so it didn’t matter.

  For Jen’s party, I attempted a combined style of preppy and rock and roll, wearing ripped jeans and a Kurt Cobain t-shirt with a pink cable knit sweater and heels. Chad was wearing a collared shirt and tie under a v-neck sweater with jeans. He had a goatee and wire rimmed glasses. He was very tall with dark hair. I thought that he looked like Tom Hanks. Lipscomb guys were different than Belmont guys. He was more clean-cut than my usual “type,” but I could use a good guy for once.

  “Hey, I’m Chad,” he said in a full, warm voice. I shook his hand.

  “Kimberly. Nice to meet you.”

  He invited me to sit by him on the low booth seat in the lounge near Jen’s other friends.

  “So you work with Jen at Starbucks?”

  “Yeah we trained there together but I just put in my notice. I also work at Betsey Johnson and they have a full time position available for me.”

  “Full time job? Are you still in school?”

  “I graduated from Belmont in August.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. I’m a senior at Lipscomb. I took a year off so I should be done already and I’m so ready to be done,” he said.

  “What’s your major?”

  “I’m a psychology major so I’ll probably end up in grad school eventually.”

  “Oh no, more school? You’re already over it!” We laughed.

  “Not right away. I play guitar in a band so maybe I’ll be able to do that for a while. I don’t know. We’ll see. What about you?”

  “I was a music business major and I want to be a tour manager,” I told him.

  “Oh, very cool!”

  He was nice enough, but he seemed so educated and proper. He would never get a tattoo. He would never smoke a cigarette. He would never be exciting enough to keep me interested, but he would never break my heart.

  November, 2004.

  A few days later, Sophie and I were working an evening shift when Chad came in. He ordered a triple Venti latte, which in Starbucks language meant a drink with three shots of espresso. I guess even the good guys have their drug, I thought. He thanked me for the drink and asked if I had a break coming up, then he sat at an empty table in the cafe. Good posture, wire-rimmed glasses and a neatly trimmed goatee.

  “That’s the guy Jen’s trying to fix me up with,” I whispered to Sophie. We made faces at each other and giggled. She and I generally liked the same kind of guys. Guitars, tattoos and a few days post-shower—probably a few days pre-shower too, for that matter. I thought Chat was cute, I just wasn’t sure if I could be attracted to him. I think he’d showered too recently.

  On my break, I left my green apron on a hook in the back room and went to sit with him. My white polo had espresso stains on it and my ugly brown shoes were splashed with milk. I felt disgusting, but was I really trying to impress this guy?

  We talked about music, about his band practice, about my work in fashion and what life had been like in L.A. He was smart but not pretentious, which I found refreshing. It was an easy conversation. I realized we did have a lot in common and Jen was right about that. We liked a lot of the same music. He liked Dave Matthews as much as me, if not more, and that was very important to me.

  The next night Jen called and asked Anna and me to meet her and Chad at a new pizza place in town. She’s determined, I thought. However, after my conversation with him at Starbucks, I was starting to think that he might be worth spending some time with.

  I had been trying to learn how to ask a guy about church when we first met to get that out of the way. Maybe that would keep me from getting into relationships where faith was such an issue like with Chase, like with everyone. Chad belonged to a denomination called Church of Christ, which I didn’t know much about, but he was a Christian so that was good enough for me.

  “Do you...?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Somehow I knew he was going to ask if I went to church every week, which I don’t. One of the great things about not being Catholic anymore was that I was allowed to miss church without the guilt.

  “For me, there’s more to faith than church,” I told him.

  “I totally agree,” he said. “So you were raised Catholic? Why did you decide to leave the Catholic Church?”

  “It is too based on rules. You must be in church. You must memorize these twenty prayers. You must hold your hands properly when you take communion. I do think there’s some beauty in the tradition, but I wanted to find a church that focused on a relationship with God, that celebrated His love, that moved me to tears every week in humility of His grace and power.”

  “Wow,” Chad said. “I know exactly what that feels like. Church of Christ is very rule-based too, but there are some things about it I really like. We don’t use instruments in church, which seems a little weird but everyone singing together a capella is so amazing.”

  I liked him. No one else at the table was paying any attention to us anymore nor were we to them.

  “Have you read The Quarterlife Crisis?” he asked.

  “Yes, I hated it,” I responded, knowing myself well enough to know the material in that book didn’t apply to me, and being comfortable enough to be upfront with him.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Well, I always know what I want and I go for it,” I replied, “and if I change my mind, that’s fine, but I’m never at a loss for what’s next and I don�
�t believe anything is unattainable.”

  “I could have guessed. I can tell you are the opposite of the people in the book.”

  I was astonished. This guy could see right through me.

  “This is the most intelligent conversation I’ve had in a long time,” he said.

  Usually with guys I didn’t always feel like I came across as particularly intelligent but we were spanning some serious topics: religion, books, art and music. I was used to being the drunk girl in her bra, and found this to be a nice change of pace.

  Suddenly, I became very aware that I wanted him to kiss me. I never make the first move, and in this instance, neither did he. He did ask to see me again, though we figured out that we both had busy weeks. I had afternoon shifts at Starbucks and he had morning classes and band practices at night. The next time we would be able to see each other would be a week later at my birthday party.

  The next day, he called on his way to band practice.

  “I just thought I’d see if you were going to be up for a while in case I’m not at practice too late,” he said.

  “Yeah, I don’t work early tomorrow so I’ll be up. Give me a call.”

  He called just after midnight.

  “I’m not waking you, am I?”

  “Not at all,” I said, “I was just working on some lyrics.”

  “You write songs?”

  “Just lyrics. I don’t play any instruments so I co-write with friends.”

  “I write music on guitar but I suck at lyrics.”