Chapter 6
Nash - March
The last time I celebrated my birthday was when I was seven - before my life basically turned to sh*t.
After my father became obsessed with alcohol, my birthday was just like every other day. No one would remember it; well, except me.
I don’t want to turn into a f*cking charity case when I say this, but I think it needs to be said.
I celebrated my birthday every year in the confines of my room. I had my own small cake that I scrounged from the few dollars I kept saved up. I even sang myself happy birthday.
It was only me.
No one else.
When I met the rest of the band, they insisted that I go out to some bar and get drunk every year on my birthday. I rejected every time. I didn’t want the reminders of the days that I spent by myself.
I just wanted it to be like every other day.
And that’s how it’s been.
But now, now it’s different.
I’m different.
My father’s gone. My mother and I are getting better. And I moved on from the one thing - one person - that’s gone.
So maybe some change is good.
***
When I woke up this morning, I never expected that I would end up here. I mean, who would’ve thought after years of endless torture, I would come here for solitude?
It’s hot outside - the surprisingly warm March heat beating onto my back. I’m sitting on the grass, legs outstretched, a bottle of beer in my hand.
Let’s face it: this is definitely a good time for beer.
I bring the rim of the bottle up to my lips and down a sip, the taste leaving a bitter flavor in my mouth.
My eyes roam the black words etched into the rock: “Beloved Husband and Father. You will always be in our hearts.”
I scoff and speak out loud, “Yeah, right.”
The cemetery is a small one, surrounded by fields and trees. There’s few graves and no ones around. Supposedly my grandparents are buried here, but I never bothered to check.
Why check up on someone who never checked up on you?
Why waste your f*cking time?
I take another sip of the burning alcohol, letting the sting take away from the heavy thoughts running through my head.
“I’m twenty-three today, Dad; if you even care.”
I don’t know why I’m speaking out loud, why I’m talking to him. The mix of the alcohol and everything I’ve had bottled up for years take over.
I lie back, looking up at the sky, one arm underneath my head, “You know, I don’t remember the last time you said Happy Birthday to me. So what the h*ll am I doing here, on my birthday, looking at a person’s grave who gave me nothing but sh*t?”
“And I’m laying here, acting like a f*cking crazy person who talks to the dead. You know, I never understood why people do this; why people come to talk to a piece of stone. They’re not going to get an answer back.”
Closing my eyes, I take relief in the silence and darkness. I should just leave. I have no purpose for being here. Yet, I can’t find the will to leave.
“You know, I don’t forgive you. I can’t forgive you. Everything you did to me - every punch I got from you - I will always remember them. Because how can you forget something that left scars on you? That’s just it - you can’t. Because they’re there - forever. And you did that to me. You scarred me.
“I’m not really sure why I came here. I just felt like I needed to end this - whatever the h*ll this is. I feel like I need to give up everything that I’ve let push me down. I’ve already let the girl go. I’ve fixed things with Mom. And now, now it’s you.”
I stand up, wiping off the dirt from my jeans, “So I guess this is it. I won’t be coming back. The only way I’ll ever think of you, is to remind myself that I’ve been through worse. I’m going to live my life; live my life the best that I can and never once think of everything you put me through.”
Turning around, I walk away from the one thing that I’ve kept bottled in my mind - the one thing that kept me from many things. I don’t say goodbye. It’s not the right term for leaving someone behind for good.
I just walk away.
***
“Dude, it’s your f*cking birthday. It’s a tradition to get drunk.”
Kane took me to a bar - surprise, surprise. I told him I let her go. I even told him that I let my father go too. So he said that we should have a celebration - for my birthday and for finally getting my a** together.
So we’re at a random bar, drinks being piled in front of us. Girls are, as usual, literally lining up to throw themselves at us. Kane has made out with every single one. Me - well, I’ve ignored every single one.
I know I should just move on - forgive and forget, right? I told myself that I would leave her behind and forget.
I need to.
So I do the first thing that I can think of - something to start over.
I down a shot glass, letting the alcohol burn my throat. I take another one. And another one.
The buzz of the alcohol hits me at around the twelfth drink. I haven’t gotten this drunk in a while. After I watched my dad drink his life away, I wanted nothing to do with it. All it does is mess with your f*cking head. But I need this. I need this.
After about the - God knows how many drinks - I’m feeling the rush of adrenaline running through me. The pulse of the music surrounds me as I start to stand up, looking around the room.
I don’t know what I’m looking for.
But I have an urge to do something.
Something that I haven’t done in a while.
I don’t remember how I got up on the stage or how the microphone even got into my hand. I don’t even remember choosing a song to sing; the words sort of flowed out of my mouth.
“Tell me,
I need to know.
Where do you wanna go?
‘Cause if you're down,
I'll take it slow.
Make you lose control.”
The riled up crowd focuses on me singing, something that I haven’t done since I last saw the girl who’s left my life for good. I feel the beat of the music and the feeling of familiarity from singing. It feels good.
I feel good.
Better than I have in months.
As I’m singing, I look out into the crowd. I catch sight of all the girls screaming and singing along. Even through the buzz of the alcohol, my eyes lock with a girl in the back, sitting at the bar. She’s tapping her foot to the beat.
I’m intrigued by her - curious as to why she’s not fawning over me like every other alcohol whipped girl in the bar.
That’s my next challenge. She’s my next challenge.
I sing the line of the song - the one asking if I could take her home with me. She grins, obviously understanding the meaning behind the words and that they were directed to her.
The crowd goes wild as I make my way down the stage, my eyes still set on my challenge. The buzz of the alcohol is heightening my confidence, making my decisions for me.
I stop in front of her, staring down at her with intimidation. She’s looking back at me, her eyes filled with what I think is interest.
“Sam,” I call out to the bartender, “get me two shot glasses.”
He grins at me, eying the girl before sending the glasses my way. I pick one up and gesture for her to do the same. She picks up the cup, sending a seductive smile my way.
“To moving on,” I say, tipping my head back and letting the alcohol slip into my mouth.
“To new choices,” she says, draining the glass.
The music and alcohol blend together, sending buzzes through my body.
I’ve made my choice.
Adelaide made hers.
And I’ve made mine.
***
My head pounds as I open my eyes, the bright sunlight blinding me as I take notice of my surroundings. I’m at home, in my bed. How I ended up here, I’m not really sure.
All I remember was alcohol; more than I’ve ever consumed. I remember singing on stage, drunk out of my mind. I even remember dancing with this random girl. Everything after that is just a blur.
I stretch my arms above my head, wanting to work out the kinks from sleeping. My fist connects with something hard to my left. A female gasp awakes me from the blurred vision.
“What the h*ll was that for?”
I turn to face the source of the gasp, wide eyed. She’s staring back at me, rubbing the spot on her head that I must have hit.
I study her face, confusion filling my head. I haven’t slept with someone since I met Adela- I cut myself off.
No; she’s gone.
“Uh… who are you?” I ask, covering the lower half of my body with the blanket.
“Carter. We met last night… at the bar,” she says, a slight, uncomfortable smile on her face.
I search through my memories, trying to remember this random girl who I apparently got close with. I look at her deep brown eyes and short black hair, currently knotted after, what I’m guessing was, a very eventful night.
As I stare at her more, her face becomes more familiar.
Drunken memories flood back to me.
Me. Her. Dancing - well, grinding really.
Me. Her. Drinking.
Me. Her. Coming back to my place.
And I think you know what happens next - no need to repeat.
I groan and rub my hands down my face. No. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have gone to the bar. I tried to stay away from this - to never go back to this lifestyle. I don’t want to f*ck random girls; I don’t want to lead them on. I don’t want to be a one of those f*cking manwhores.
But can people truly change who they are?
Yes, they can. I can; I will.
“Uhm, Carter. That’s right…” I trail off, shifting out of bed to pull my boxers on.
She smiles, grabbing one of my t-shirts from the floor and throwing it on herself. I’m going to be honest; when girls wear a guy’s shirt - and nothing but that shirt - it’s f*cking hot.
My mind drifts over to a certain blonde. I imagine her wearing my shirt, and then me taking it back off, kissing her neck as I move ov- I shake my head, ridding myself of the daydream.
Move on, Nash. Move the f*ck on.
“Do you want some breakfast?” I ask her.
Carter frowns, tugging at the hem of the shirt, a blush creeping on her cheeks, “I’m not really used to this sort of thing. I’ve never done a one-night stand before; I’m not sure how this… goes. My friend told me to get wasted last night because my boyfriend broke up with me… So I guess I did. And I ended up… here.”
“Well then lets not make it one… Let’s make it… a fresh start,” the words come out of my mouth before my brain has the chance to go through them.
Carter’s mouth drops open.
F*ck. I think, mentally smacking myself in the face. I just scared her off.
“Yeah… Okay,” she says, a smile gracing her face.
Okay.
I’m moving on.
I’m moving on.
***
We’re sitting on the couch facing one another.
We’re playing scrabble.
And no, not naked.
She’s not that… open.
But thank God, my mother didn’t come home last night - or at least I don’t think she did.
Where she is, I have no idea.
I’ve gotten to know Carter. We’ve been talking for the past three hours, telling each other what we like and what we don’t like. I like talking to her. It feels good. It feels new. It feels like a fresh start.
Carter’s a journalist, working at the local paper. She graduated top of her class and just broke up with her boyfriend of five years. She volunteers at the local animal shelter and hospital twice a week, saying that she loves helping others.
She’s different. She’s like no one I’ve ever been with. And I like that.
I’ve told her a little bit about me, nothing big. I’ve never been open with anyone. Well except Kane and…
When our fifth game of scrabble is over, we decide to head out - go get something to eat. It’s around lunch time, and to be honest, I don’t want her to go yet.
I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. I don’t feel empty anymore. I don’t feel alone.
“What’s that chain around your neck?” she asks me, pointing to my chest.
I look down at the pick that lies against my shirt. I’ve always kept it underneath my shirt. I don’t want to remember it, “Nothing… it’s just a pick.”
She reaches over to touch it, “What does it mean?”
“Nothing,” I say. “It’s in the past.”
Carter obviously realizes that I don’t want to talk about it because she looks away from me, a small frown on her face.
When she’s looking over the menu, I steal the chance to look her over, really look her over.
She has warm brown eyes and short black hair. The bangs in the front keep falling over her eyes, and she blows them out of the way, out of habit. She bites the corner of her lip, obviously in deep concentration. Her soft, pink lips scream out to me.
I lean forward, capturing them in my own in a short, delicate kiss.
When we lean back, she gives me a questioning look. I grin and turn back to the menu.
Yeah, I think I can move on.
Hello, hello! Sorry for posting this so late, but I've been swamped with homework. Gabby and I just can't seem to have a break. But hey, we've got less than FOUR months until we graduate, so that's pretty exciting. We are counting down the days - literally.
Anyway, NASH MOVED ON! YAY! NO?!? Yeah... Sorry about that... But it had to happen! Everyone deserves to be happy... And Nash is happy with Carter... Right? Speaking of Carter, do you guys like her? Hate her? Come on, give her a chance. You may like her.
Okay. Okay. Don't start throwing daggers at us. All good things come with time. That is how the saying goes, right? Well, I hope you liked this chapter - even if the ending wasn't your favorite. I still do love reading from Nash's point of view. How about you guys?
Well, stick around because the next few chapters are some of my favorites!
Until next week,
Ana