True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (34 page)

For some reason, this is harder for me to take than the whole gift exchange was. “I can’t believe you gave that up. Ian! You’re going to regret it once you’re—feeling better. Your recording! And the tour—you’ve worked so hard for this! You can’t just walk away from it all.”

“It doesn’t mean anything to me, Sparrow. Maybe I’ll regret it like you say, but right now, I can’t see past
this
. I have to see this through with you. We have to work it out. I’m not gonna ‘feel better’ without
you
!”

I walk over to him and stand beside him. “Ian. You need to do whatever you can to make it right with the label.” I touch his arm and he looks at me. His eyes are hungry; he leans into my hand. “Ian, you have to let me go.”

His chest deflates and he backs away from me. “No. Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“I can’t … I can’t be with you. I don’t know how I’m gonna live without you. But I don’t think I can live with you either. You have broken me,” my voice gives out. “I don’t see how I can ever trust you again.”

“You could, you just don’t want to,” he cries.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

With that, he leans over and crushes me with a kiss, and then walks across the room, picks up his boots and the wrapping paper and walks out the door. “I still believe in us, Sparrow. I’ll never stop,” he says before the door shuts behind him.

- 26 -

9 months later

Fall in New York is exceptional this year. The trees are brighter and more colorful than I ever remember. I walk home, shuffling my feet through the fallen leaves while running through the to-do list in my head.

Tonight Tessa is throwing a small party for me to celebrate the release of my book. It comes out next week and the relief of being completely done with the project is immense. I’m happy with the way it turned out, and with the way my brain is always working, I wasn’t sure I could ever say that.

I pick up my dress from the dry cleaners and mentally check that off the list.

When I get to the apartment, there are flowers from Ian sitting outside my door. The delivery guy is on a first name basis with me now and usually shakes his head sadly when I open the door. I’m glad I missed his pity today.

My Little Bird—

I’m so proud of you. I heard about your book. I will be the first in line to buy it.

I love you.

Ian

It’s been a year since Ian and I broke up. Exactly a year. And he still hasn’t given up. I still get letters, although they have gradually become less frequent. Around graduation, he sent a CD of songs he’s written for me over the year. They were heartbreaking, excruciating songs about love and loss and longing. I cried for days and then put the CD in a box, high up on my closet shelf and haven’t revisited it.

I’ve been working on a letter for the last two months. A letter that I work on every night before bed, saying all the things I’ve wanted to say to him since everything fell apart. I pick up the notebook that I’ve been writing it all in and read where I’ve left off:

I can’t do this anymore. I need you to stop. The letters, the gifts, the flowers, all of it. I can’t take it anymore. It’s killing me. Each time you send something, another piece of me whittles down further. I can’t be with you. I wish I could, but I’m just not able to get past it. All these letters from you feel like a way to appease your guilt and I’m hereby releasing you.

I forgive you, but I can’t forget.

I will love you forever, but I can’t be with you.

I rifle through the pages of the notebook that details all the thoughts of love and loss and longing
I’ve
felt and realize I can’t say any more than this. It’s all been said. I put it in an 8 1/2 x 11 envelope and before I can think it to death, I seal it and address it to Ian Sterling. I will mail it on the way to my party. Check.

Andy calls to make sure I don’t need a ride to the restaurant. I assure him I don’t and that I’ll see him there. I’ve been going out with Andy for a few weeks now. The first time he kissed me, I cried. We were outside, so I was able to blame it on the wind, but since then I’ve been putting distance between us. He knew I was on an I-hate-men tangent when we met and somehow weaseled his way into being my friend. I tell him I’m not ready for a relationship, but he keeps doggedly pursuing. I know a big talk is due because I have no desire whatsoever to kiss him again. Or touch him. Or really even look at him. I know I should have never gone out with him to begin with, but Tessa keeps telling me I have to start getting out.

Everyone is worried about me.

Maybe this letter/book to Ian is what it will take for me to move on … be okay. I don’t know. I don’t really think I will ever be okay, but I’m exhausted with peering at the world through this negative, cloudy, hateful veil.

I despise the distrust I have for everyone. I guess it was time I developed a more cynical skin, instead of being so gullible or ‘idealistic’. If I’ve learned anything from Ian—and Asher, too, for that matter—it’s that the world isn’t this beautiful, happy place that I always imagined. It’s full of gross ugliness on every side. No one can be trusted. Everyone will disappoint. And it’s up to me to watch out for myself. No one else is going to do it for me.

Well, except for Tessa. She doesn’t count in my harsh new worldview. She is an entity all her own, and I don’t know what I would do without her.

Jared and Tessa are waiting for me in front of the restaurant. I hug them both, and then they lead the way. Jared would have to count as an exception to my All Men Are Evil campaign. For at least six months after Ian and I broke up, I watched Jared like a hawk, just waiting for him to make a wrong move. He hasn’t. He genuinely loves Tessa and treats her so well. I can’t help but love him for it.

The party is nice. I’m grateful for the school friends I’ve made from NYU. A couple of friendships I know will last forever. My editor, Louise, is great too. Everyone wishes me well, and it’s a fun night.

I’ve become used to that hollowed-out feeling in my chest that’s present even when everything is good.

I duck out after telling Andy that I don’t need a ride home. Before I tell him goodnight though, I pull him aside.

“Andy, I know this isn’t the right time to talk, but I—I can’t go out with you anymore. If you’re not okay with us just being friends, let me know. If you are, great. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way.”

He nods and says, “I saw this coming.”

And with that, I walk outside and breathe in the brisk night air.

“Hey, beautiful.”

I turn around quickly at the sound of his voice. The rasp that I hear in my dreams.

Ian is standing just outside the door. He points to the window of the restaurant. “I saw you in there with your friends … I was torn about what to do. Should I go inside and ruin your night just by my presence?” He laughs a harsh laugh. “Or do I disappear and pretend you’re not within 100 yards of me? What to do? I’ve just been standing here in a conundrum. You caught me.”

I stare at him. He looks better than the last time I saw him. His hair is back to its short, haphazard chaos and his face is a little bit fuller, almost back to how it was when we were happy.

Finally, I speak. “What are you doing here?”

“Jagged flew me in for their new recording … I’m laying guitar tracks tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet them here in a few—”

Andy walks out of the restaurant and comes to a screeching halt in front of us. He looks back and forth from Ian to me and back to Ian. He recognizes Ian and moves in closer to me.

“Sparrow? How ‘bout that ride?”

“I’m fine, Andy. Thank you, though. Really,” I add when it seems he doesn’t believe me.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll call you later.” He nods to Ian and walks away.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Ian asks, his face expressionless.

“No.”

“He wants to be,” Ian says emphatically.

“Yeah.”

Ian nods and releases a long sigh. “Can we go somewhere, Sparrow? Anywhere? Did you eat dessert?”

“You said you’re meeting the band here.”

“Screw the band. I’m seeing you. I can’t miss a chance to be with you. I would have called to tell you I was coming, but the whole phone number issue…damn, I wish you’d give me your number. I did write to tell you. Maybe you haven’t gotten that one yet?”

I shake my head no.

“Ahhh. Well, what do you say? Come with me? Let’s catch up? Celebrate? You have a lot of celebrating to do…”

Out of all the people in the world that I would want to celebrate with, way down deep, Ian is still the one. But I say, “I should get home. It’s … been a long day.”

His face falls. “I understand,” he says thickly. “I’ll be here until Monday … I’ll make time for whatever works for you, Sparrow, if we can get together.”

I do a number on the inside of my mouth, biting hard to keep from falling into his arms and going off with him into the night.

“I hope it goes well,” I say softly. “It’s good to see you, Ian.”

“So good to see you, Sparrow.” He reaches out and touches my arm. “I still love you.”

“I still love you, too, Ian. It just doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

I walk away before I can fully digest the sucker-punch look in his eyes that my words just caused.

I’m dragging into the grocery store the next morning. It was a long, sleepless night. Someone says, “Sparrow Fisher?”

I turn around and don’t recognize the guy who’s walking in with me.

“Are you Sparrow Fisher?”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I’m Leo Naik. Bass player for Jagged.”

I nod. “Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Have we met before?”

“No.” He laughs. “Sorry, I just realized we haven’t ever met. I feel like I know you, though. Ian talks about you all the time. I’ve seen a ton of pictures. That guy is crazy over you.”

I look away uncomfortably.

“He was fucked up last night, man. What did you do to him? He was piss drunk by the time we got to the restaurant—we had to drag him home. He talked about you all night long.”

“Is he okay?” I ask. “He never gets drunk. Ever. He barely even drinks.”

Leo leans in close and says quietly, “I’m worried about him. Dude’s messed up—he was on the floor all night, huddled in a ball, talking nonsense about you.”

I shut my eyes and put my hand over my lips. When I open my eyes, I edge toward Leo and get in his face. “Don’t talk about it, okay? Ian’s private, and he wouldn’t want anyone to know this.”

Leo holds up his hands. “The guy’s my friend. I’m only telling you because—well, how crazy is it that I ran into you here, today, after the night I’ve had with your ex? I’m getting some Advil and taking it back to him. If there’s any part of you that wants to give him another chance, get your ass back to him and give the poor guy a break.”

I back away from him, anger taking over. “Mind your own business. You don’t know me,” I snap.

“Oh, I know plenty. I’ve had to hear about you for a long time now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re great and all, but you’ve fucked him up royally. He walked away from his career and everything over you.”

“I never asked him to do that. And the next time you’re chatting about me, why don’t you ask
him
how we got to this point?”

“All I know, is Ian Sterling will
never
get over you.”

With that, he walks away and leaves me staring after him, wondering how in the world my life ever became so complicated.

Every time I leave the apartment, I halfway expect to see Ian around every corner. I’m on guard and jumpy. Saturday morning, I open the door to get my mail, and there’s a note taped to my door.

Sparrow Kate—

I was hoping I’d see you again. I’ve decided to leave today. I know if I stay any longer, I’ll try to twist your arm into seeing me. I finished my work early and have the opportunity to play on Cape Cod tonight. I’ll be staying there a few extra days. If you’d like to get together before I head home, I can stop back through here. I’d like that very much. I promise I would behave.

Ian

I shrug off the disappointment that runs through me. My fickle will is loathsome.

I sent him away.

I’m mad that he went.

I can’t love him.

I can’t hate him either.

Ian Sterling has ruined me. And he’s ruined me for anyone else.

- 27 -