Notorious

I want to be the girl that I could've been.

So, I packed a bag. And then I unpacked the same bag. And then I packed it again.

I spent the rest of that night into the early morning going back and forth between heading back to London with my tail between my legs or staying cooped up in this house alone. I had made up my mind already, but it was the fear of the future that had me going back and forth.

Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt again.

But, with my father's final words to me looping in my head like a broken record I re-packed my bag for the last time just after the sun rose and decided to take the plunge.

I don't want to live my life with the 'what ifs' constantly running through my head. I want to know the ifs exactly.

I started making calls to my landlord about renewing the lease in my apartment in London, and then to a moving company to move my things back, and lastly, to Jordan.

TJ and I practiced piano one more time together the next day –with not much improvement- and I said my goodbyes. TJ held back his tears like a champ and promised to put down his phone for a few hours a day. But, it was Jordan that was the most disappointed.

Maybe in another life it might have worked out between us, a life where I never met Harry. A life where my heart wasn't forever entwined with his. With the promise to visit and keep in touch I kissed him on the cheek and said goodbye.

And the next day I ordered this cab and drove the two hours back to London trying not to jump out of a moving car.

So, here I am.

But, now that I'm actually here –back in London, in the place where it all began- I am having a hard time actually following through with my resolve. Knowing that Harry is inside, right inside the building in front of me has my stomach as angry as the waves were that day on the beach when I was nine.

And if that isn't an omen, I don't know what is.

"Listen, lady, my wife is going to kill me if I don't make it home to dinner tonight. Are you going inside or what?"

My nerves are so taut that his booming voice makes me jump slightly in my seat and I have to take a few calming breaths before I can speak again. God, what the fuck am I doing?

This is crazy. I don't even know what I'm really doing here, to get back with Harry? To get back in the band? What if Harry has already moved on? What if he hates me because of our last conversation? What if the whole band hates me because I left them?

Despite all of the crazy thoughts racing through my brain, I pull out my wallet with shaky hands and pull out the money the meter is blinking at me plus a tip.

It's too late to back out now. I'm already here.

The cabbie is suddenly a lot happier when he sees the generous tip I handed him and gets out of the cab to help me grab the backpack I brought with me. I thank him quietly, my voice as shaky as my nerves and stand in the middle of the street as my last chance to back out of this disappears into the busy London streets.

And then I get honked at, a guy in a jeep stopped behind me flipping me off.

Welcome home, I guess.

I run across the street to stand directly in front of the building, watching as people spill out of the entrance. I feel kind of silly standing there in my leather skirt, jeweled blouse, strappy tan heels... and ratty backpack.

A few of the girls give me odd looks, obviously wondering if I'm a little lost –dressed to the nines outside this club with a full backpack on my shoulders like Dora the fucking explorer, but I ignore them. I'm already prepared to spill my guts out onto the street next to me, I don't need to worry about what I look like to strangers.