Connecting
by Amanda

The New York skyline looms outside the hotel window, illuminating the room in a sea of holiday colors.  I chuckle slightly, the irony of the moment not lost on me.  The festive lights of a city celebrating the season can’t hinder the darkness that shrouds my room and my heart. 

I take my jacket off and throw it on the table and proceed to pour myself a glass of vodka from the mini-bar.  My eyes travel to the bright red numbers shining from the clock on the desk and I contemplate the thought of going down the hall and knocking on my mother’s door but quickly push it from my mind.  It’s too late and she’s not really the person I want to talk to at this moment. 

But that person doesn’t want to talk to me. 

I pull the balcony door open and step outside, lifting my head slightly and inhaling the sharp winter air.  I can feel my entire body start to tingle from the chill but I move to the nearby chair and sit down, kicking my legs up onto the railing of the balcony.

Taking a sip of the drink in my hand, I let the liquid burn through my lungs, bringing a slight bit of warmth to my body and an even slighter bit of comfort to my heart.  I rest my hand on the arm of the chair and tilt my head to the side so that I can see the bustling city below me.  To the passerby’s of my life, completely unaware of my existence around them.  They cannot heart my heartache.  They cannot see my pain.  And somewhere in this city, hidden behind the sparkling lights, is the woman who I long for. 

My eyes flutter shut and I rest my head against the back of the chair.  I pull the glass to my mouth and take a long drink.  I never drank like this, not as an escape.  Until a few months ago.  And soon it became a constant, my only way to step away from a life that was never intended to be lived like this.  But tonight, not even the alcohol in my veins can save me from my past.  From the woman who inhabits it. 

I didn’t expect her to be there.  Granted, I knew she was in the city.  Hell, I knew she’d likely be out somewhere, dancing the night away to celebrate the change in her life . . . and to ease away the stress and tension she’ll never admit she has.  I laugh slightly to myself as I picture her walking in the club just hours ago, her eyes wide . . . . . . . and empty.  She would say I was wrong, that she was there just to have fun.  That she was happy.  But she forgets how well I know her and how easy it is for me to read her.  And one look into those brown eyes painted a picture that only I could see.  So she gave me a gentle smile and turned away, walking up the stairs to the VIP lounge. 

It wasn’t till JC slapped me on the leg that I realized I was staring at an empty stairway.  He leaned into me and told me I should go say hello.  It wouldn’t hurt.  But it did.  The second my eyes found her again, sitting alone at a table, staring down at the dance floor below.  And it hurt even more when she reluctantly moved her gaze to mine and allowed me to gently kiss her cheek. 

I wasn’t sure what to expect, part of me thinking she would shun me for the things I’ve said and did over the past two years while the other part of me expected her to jump into my arms and hug me the way I had hoped she would. 

She did neither.  Instead, she engaged in a civil conversation, one she would likely share with any friend, not a man that she shared her life with for so many years.  And she kept her gaze . . . . . . and her heart . . . . . . distanced from me.  This was it, after a lifetime of love and friendship, we had reduced our relationship to a friendly encounter.  And as our conversation fell to silence, I politely excused myself and walked away. 

I open my eyes, my vision slightly blurred from the alcohol and the unshed tears welled up inside me.  I hold the glass up and tilt it, staring at my liquid amnesia, wishing it would actually work tonight. 

A noise from inside the room startles me slightly and I cock my head to the side and look through the opened door.  A lone light shines in the darkened room, that of the screen of my laptop sitting on the desk.  I place my glass on the table and push my body from the chair.  My eyes never leave the screen as I make my way to the computer. 

I sit down and slowly move my hand to the mouse pad, moving my finger to the blinking icon on the bottom, telling me that I have a new e-mail message.  “Britney,” I mumble, my heart not truly believing my eyes as I read the sender’s name. 

I run my hand through my hair and lower my head, taking a deep breath as I stare down at the wooden table.  Finally, I bring my gaze back to the screen and move my shaking hand back to the mouse pad. 

The few seconds it takes to open the message seems to take hours, the knot in my stomach tightening with each passing second.  Finally, her words appear and I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk and placing my chin in my hands as I begin to read.

My mom always told me to live each moment to the fullest, that once a moment has passed you can never get it back.  Tonight, as I watched you walk away from me once again, I regretted that moment. 

I don’t know why I’m doing this . . . . . . actually, that’s a lie.  I know exactly why I’m doing this.  Because I need to, for my own sake.  Because maybe this is the only way I can come close to getting that moment back.  But even then, I’m not sure if I should want that moment back.

I’m getting married.  I’m going to walk down the aisle the way I’ve always dreamed of, with my family and friends all around me and the man I love watching me with eyes filled with emotion.  He’s going to make me his wife and I’m going to be the happiest I’ve ever been.  I am. 

And then I see you . . . .

It’s not supposed to be this way. I wasn’t supposed to run into you.  I wasn’t prepared for it.  Actually it’s strange to even think that I would have to prepare myself to see you.  But I do.  And tonight, I wasn’t.  And I certainly wasn’t prepared for you to speak to me.  I guess I believe that you aren’t supposed to do that.  You are no longer a part of my life.  You no longer matter.  You no longer have an affect on me. 

But then you do . . . .

So I’m confused.  And I’m sitting here on the balcony of my condo, a place that I specifically designed to not remind me of you.  And yet what am I doing . . . . . I’m thinking of you.  And I look down at the ring on my finger and I curse myself for letting myself think of you.  I’m happy.  I love Kevin.  And I can’t wait to be his wife. 

But again, you are there.  Right in front of me.  One second you are looking at me the way you did when I was the one you loved.  And then the next second, you are looking at me the way you did tonight . . . . . like I haunted you. 

And just when I think that maybe the alcohol I keep pouring into my system had diminished your memory, I look up at the constant reminder of you . . . . .of us.  And I’m sitting here wondering if you even remember it.  I’m wondering if you ever have those lonely nights when you feel like you have lost your world, and you look up and see that star . . . . our star, and you think of me.  And I’m wondering if you can give up your right to a star.  You gave up your share of the house, you backed out of our charity, you gave up our friendship . . . . but can you give back a star?  Would you give back a star?  I wonder . . . . . . . if maybe you now have a star with Cameron.  If maybe you surprised her and told her that your star shined as bright as your love.  Like you told me.  Which makes me wonder if our star shines a little less brightly than it did before. 

I don’t know. 

But still, another moment has passed.  And I still haven’t said to you the things I want to say to you.  Because I don’t know how.  It’s been so long. 

So very, very long.  And maybe it’s the alcohol, but at this moment . . . . I miss you.  When I should be sitting here missing my fiancé, I miss you.  You, who has a girlfriend.  You, who doesn’t love me.  You, who I don’t even know anymore.

You, who I shouldn’t be sending this e-mail to.

My heart seems to stop as I stare at the screen in front of me.  I can feel her confusion in her words, the same confusion that I’ve been dealing with since seeing her hours ago. 

I don’t know how we got to this point.  Where this woman who was my lover for years and my best friend for even more no longer feel like we can see or speak to each other without pain.  I don’t know how we ever allowed that to happen. 

I can hear the shrill of my ringing cell phone behind me but I make no attempt to move to it.  I know whose seeking me tonight.  The person who should be.  The person who I should want nothing more than to speak to at this moment.  But I don’t have a clue how to explain to her that I’m upset because I saw the woman I supposedly no longer care about earlier tonight.  I don’t know how to tell her that I’m staring at the same woman’s e-mail, my mind racing from her words, only her image on my mind. 

The phone rings a few more times before I can no longer hear it and I slowly move my head into my hands  I let it rest there for a few moments until I finally rise up.  I rub my eyes and move my hands to the keyboard.  I take a deep breath before I let my heart take over, my fingers moving with a flourish. 

Your mother has always been a smart lady.  She is right, you should live each moment to the fullest for they are forever lost.  I should know.  Over the past couple of years, there are so many moments that I would like to live over.  Maybe things would be different if I could.  Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here, trying to find words to say to you, when I’m not sure those words exist.  But here I am, in this empty hotel room, my thoughts hanging on the words in your e-mail.  My heart as confused as yours. 

I know you are getting married.  I know this is what you’ve always wanted.  I’ve pictured you in my mind a thousand times in that long, white dress, your hair flowing down along your bare shoulders, your eyes full of love.  You always look beautiful, exquisite, as I’m sure you will on your wedding day. 

But still, something doesn’t seem right.

I don’t know what to tell you, Brit.  I don’t know how to say what I want to say.  I don’t know how to tell you what I feel.  In truth, I’m not really even sure I know what I feel. 

I just know that it doesn’t feel right.

What I do know is that seeing you tonight was like seeing a ghost.  In truth, I haven’t wanted to see you for a long time.  Not because of you, but because I wasn’t sure how I would feel.  I’m at this point in my life where I’m happy again, and I’m content.  I love Cameron.  I truly do.  But then I see you and a million emotions come rushing back.  Emotions that I shouldn’t feel, that I don’t want to feel, because they can only cause trouble with both of our lives.  We’ve moved on.  We had four beautiful years that mean the world to me and now we’ve moved on.

But then I have to ask why we affect each other the way we do when we’ve moved on. 

I don’t know. 

And so I go back and read your e-mail and then I look outside at our star up above.  The star that always reminded me of you.  The one that still reminds me of you.  The one that you are looking at right now.  And I want you to know this much, Brit.  If there’s anything you deserve to know, it’s this . . . .   

You are my only star.  You are the only star I ever wished to have.  The only star that I would never give up.  And I have never been able to forget that star.  I still look at it every night and I am reminded of your beautiful face the night I showed it to you and I’m reminded of the reason I gave it to you.  As a symbol of our love.  That star has never dimmed, Brit.  It is always there and it is always shining brightly.  But is our love?

Sometimes I don’t think so, or I tell myself I don’t think so.  On those nights when I realize that I don’t know you anymore, or maybe I don’t know me anymore.  Either way, we are lost from each other.  And I’m not sure if we can ever find our way back.  Because the road is covered with lies and betrayals, with things unsaid and things said too often.  It’s hidden beneath a wealth of what if’s and what should’ve been’s.  But then, up above, is our star.  And in the distance is our love.  And I think that just because something is hidden, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.     

They say that love never ends.  That sometimes it moves on, but it never ends.  So where is ours?  Did it fade with Kevin and Cameron?  Does it no longer exist at all? 

Or do we just not want it to?

I’m confused, Britney.   But I don’t want to be.  I don’t want to feel like I can’t see someone who at one point meant the world to me.  I don’t want to think that I don’t know you anymore. 

I want to be happy that you are happy.  I want to look into your eyes and love you without being in love with you.  And to be okay with that because we had four beautiful years of passionate love and a lifetime of wonderful friendship. In truth,  I want, need, to know you again. 

But I realize that there are two years of negativity that stands in our way.  Two years or nasty words and avoidance.  Two years of silence between us.  

No matter what, I want you to be able to talk to you.  I want you to be able to tell me how you feel.

So here is your opportunity . . . . .

I can feel the tension in my body as I read over my words.  Before I can think about it, I push the send button.  An intense feeling of anxiety instantly sets in over my body. 

I quickly glance at the clock and then cross my arms over my chest and close my eyes.  My mind is instantly filled with images of her.  She’s sitting on her bed, one leg over the side and one bent in front of the laptop before her.  The bedroom balcony door is open, sending a chilled breeze into the room and causing her arms to cover with chill bumps.  She bites lightly on her bottom lip as she stares intently at the computer.  I can see tears filling her eyes but she doesn’t even blink to remove them. 

I open my eyes quickly, cursing lightly under my breath.  I run my hand through my hair as I spring up, grabbing my now empty glass and walking across the room.  I pour myself a glass of vodka and then go back to the desk.  My eyes rest of the computer screen.  Waiting.

And waiting.

After what seems like forever, my eyes fall shut.  The silence is overwhelming, cutting into me like a knife.  A million emotions and scenarios run through my head.  Maybe this and maybe that.  Maybe my e-mail upset her.  Maybe Kevin called and brought her back to her senses.  Maybe.

And then . . . . . a gentle ring from my computer.  My eyes spring open and I stare at her name on the screen momentarily before I open her e-mail.

You know, when I first saw that your e-mail in my inbox, I didn’t know what to do.  After I hit the send button the first time, I thought I had made a mistake.  You didn’t want to hear from me.  You didn’t care.  And you probably would just ignore e-mail, delete it or even better . . . . sell it to the media that continues to thirst for anything dealing with us.

So I sat there, astonished that you had actually responded, scared to read your words.  What if you were telling me to leave you alone?  So I muster the courage to actually open it and find words that might hurt even more than had you told me you didn’t care anymore.  It would have been easier had you done that. 

So I stare at the screen for a few more minutes, thinking of what I want to tell you.  What I need to tell you.  Knowing that I will likely never truly be able to tell you all that I feel.  All that I have felt. 

I have a million emotions.  A million thoughts.  My mind is clouded with questions and insecurities.  But most of all, I don’t understand you anymore. 

I’m so angry at you, Justin.  Two years worth of anger.  At your words.  At your actions.  I want to scream at you.  I want to beg you to stop.  I want to tell you that I don’t understand you at all.  I don’t understand how can you take our beautiful relationship and degrade it for the world?  How can you say that you still love me and then turn around and strip me of the most precious thing in my life. . . . my dignity?  I want to tell you that I hated so much of what you said about me before . . . . . but that I might hate it more that you no longer say anything.  Because as much as I hate to admit it, it hurts to think that you don’t care enough to even say anything.  That I no longer merit even your anger. 

But I was okay.  I was okay thinking you didn’t care.  And then you actually respond to that irrational e-mail.  And now I really want to scream at you.  I want to yell at you.  I want to hit you.  But then I want to hug you.  I want to feel your arms around me.  I want to feel you.

God Justin, so much of me wishes this night never happened.  That I had never seen you and that I never sent that e-mail.  It would be so easy then.  So easy to walk down that aisle in two days and be happy. 

I love Kevin so much.  He has brought a love to my life that I never thought I’d ever have again.  He loves me and he’s there for me.  He makes me so so happy. 

So why am I doing this?  Why is my heart reaching out to you?  Why can’t I get you out of my mind?

I don’t know.

  I run my hand down my face as I read her final words.  Sighing, I lean back against the chair.  My entire body feels numb.  I knew when we ended things two years ago that we didn’t leave things the way they needed to be left.  I knew that when I said those things before that she would be hurt.  And that’s part of the reason I said it.  I wanted to hurt her.  I thought that hurting her would make me not love her.

And now I regret every word of it. 

I look at the clock.  It is now 4:30 in the morning and I am so tired that I can barely move.  But I know that I will never go to sleep.  Not with Britney’s words plaguing my mind . . . . and heart.  Not with her on the other end of cyberspace awaiting my response.

So I take a deep breath and move my shaking hands back to the keyboard. 

  First of all, I want you to know that I never truly wanted to hurt you.  That wasn’t me talking.  It was a bitter, depressed man who didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t mean those things, Brit.  Never.  And yes, I did say things that I never should have said.  I know how important it was to you to keep our personal lives private.  I know that.  I said things I can’t take back and I’m sorry.  I truly am.  And that, in part, is the reason I say nothing anymore.  Because it hurts too much to do so.  That, and the fact, that I didn’t want to seem like I was clinging to something that wasn’t there anymore.

I thought you were gone.  And then tonight . . . . And so my mind is searching for answers.

You love Kevin.  I love Cameron.  We’ve both moved on with our lives.  But maybe the connection we’ve had since we were 12 is still there. 

Our love was real, Brit.  It was true and honest and beautiful.  So incredibly special.  I have not, and likely will not, ever be able to open myself up to that again.  To love someone that strongly and then to lose them is far too cruel to ever live through again.

The fact is this . . . . . you can marry Kevin in two days.  You can get the family you’ve always wanted and you will be happy.  And maybe I will even marry Cameron and do the same. 

But the truth that neither of us wants to admit is that no matter what, we will always wonder what could’ve been between us.  The truth is, when either of us thinks about marriage, we think about each other.  And to be perfectly honest, if I wasn’t so tired and so laced with alcohol, I probably would never admit to that. 

I don’t want you anymore . . . . . or I’m not supposed to.

But when I saw you tonight.  And I saw the same look in your eyes that I know was in mine, all I wanted to do was hold you.  I wanted that familiarity back . . . . to have your warm body melt into me the way it always did, to have your scent attack my senses. 

I wanted to be home. 

It’s now 5:00 in the morning and all I can think of is you.  And more than anything, I want to see you.  I want to get that moment back that we let go hours ago.  I want to look you in the eyes and talk to you the way I’ve wanted to for two years. 

And I know that you are getting married in two days.  And that I have absolutely no right to interfere with that.  But I think both of us need this.  I know both of us do.  If not, we will always wonder. 

So if you want that moment back, meet me the Joe’s Café in thirty minutes. 

And please Brit . . . . . . come.

  I quickly hit the send and jump from my chair.  I grab my jacket from the bed and slip it on and then pick up my cell phone.  I look at it briefly and then toss it back on the bed.  The only person I want to speak to does not have the number.

As I begin to walk toward the door, I catch my reflection in the mirror on the wall.  I stop quickly and turn to look at myself.  My eyes are swollen and red, my face covered with a couple weeks of growth, my hair tousled uncontrolled.  I shake my head as I look at the person before me.  A person I’m not sure I know.

Everything used to be so clear.

I close my eyes tightly and take a deep breath.  As I open them once again, I take a quick glace at the computer on the table and then head for the door. 

Avoiding the hassle of a car, I pull my hood onto my head and opt to walk the few blocks to Joe’s.  A light mist begins to settle over the city but I pay it no mind as I walk. 

As I arrive at the café, I slide into a booth at a window.  And I watch.

I go through two cups of coffee, avoiding words with the waitress and the stares of the few people inside.  My mind races out of control, not allowing me to put any simple thoughts together. 

I’m nervous.  More nervous than I’ve ever been and certainly more nervous than I’ve ever been when it comes to Brit.  Everything has always been so smooth and simple with us.  Nothing complicated though the media and our careers tried to make it that way.  I guess at the end, the thought of it becoming complicated is what brought it down.  We weren’t willing to let our love change.

I look out the large window, covered with fingerprints and handprints of past days, nights and months.  The light mist has now turned to a full downpour.  The city is still dark under the early morning sky and the rain makes it appear like a scene from an old horror movie.

I glance to my watch, 5:45, and raise my hand for more coffee. 

Time seems to pass so slowly as daylight fights to peek through the darkness.  My tired eyes focus on the rain pounding on the pavement outside, each drop bouncing up slightly before it falls back down onto the wet streets and sidewalks.  I see a bright yellow cab pull up to the front of the café and my heart begins to beat uncontrollably as I see someone climb out and open an umbrella.  When the car pulls away, the woman turns around and my heart sinks. 

My watch now reads 6:48.  I take one final look outside and then reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet.  I throw a fifty onto the table and head toward the door.  I ignore the waitress as she asks if I want change.

Not bothering to put my hood on, I walk out into the rain and begin to sprint across the street.  As I reach the sidewalk, I feel compelled to look back at the cafe.  Through the intense rain, I can see the waitress watching me from inside. 

I take a step to the side, lower my head and then turn to take my solemn walk back to the hotel.  And that’s when I see it . . . . . . . a small pair of water logged Nike sneakers.  My heart twinges as I slowly allow my eyes to travel up the familiar body, only to close them just before I reach the face.

I wait momentarily, my eyes clenched shut, hoping to see the face I long for when I open them.  And then ever so cautiously, I do. 

And she is there . . . .

Her big brown eyes wide as she stares at me.  Her hair plastered to her head from the rain.  Her face flushed, her body shaking.  I have never seen anything so beautiful. 

We both stare, not a word spoken, or needed.  And then, after an eternity, she takes two steps forward and flings herself into my awaiting arms. 

We cry into each other’s shoulders, clinging to one another for dear life.  Our hearts pound wildly.

I slowly move back, still cradling her body with mine, and place a kiss on the side of her head.  And I know . . . . .

This is our moment.