Chase & Adrienne

34

ADRIENNE

SATURDAY NIGHT

As Chase drives along the winding road, I can't stop looking at him. Had I really convinced myself that there was never anything more between us all this time? It's weird to think about. It's like I'm seeing Chase in a whole new light. Still, there is a dull ache in my chest, a gaping Luke-shaped hole. No amount of newfound love can make that heartbreak disappear completely. Nothing stings quite like betrayal does. It's the kind of blow that makes you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, the kind of blow that targets your tenderest, most vulnerable places. It is merciless pain. It blinds you, and as you're turning around and around in that terrifying darkness, you think for a moment that you can never, will never, trust a soul again. God, it hurt. It tasted worse that I ever thought it could.

And yet, here is Chase. Here as always, to wade knee-deep into my troubles and my pain to scoop me up and bring me back to shore. He did this when I was 12 years old and my mother decided to take a job in Detroit and leave us behind. He did this in the library when my self-esteem was at its lowest. He did this tonight, when I thought I could never love again. He's always saving me. 

I got carried away with Luke, caught up in the excitement and the newness of a brand-new boy in my life. I took Chase's dependability and friendship for granted, bored with the norm. A part of me believed that Luke could offer me something that Chase could not. For some reason, I thought Chase's love was lacking somehow, a disparity that Luke ultimately could not fill. Luke was a road block, a closed road, on my way to Chase. I got a little lost, a little turned around. But the detours don't matter now. I ended up right where I needed to be. Right here, in Chase's beat-up truck, sitting shotgun. I let the wind whip the curls out of my hair, beating the painful memories of tonight out of my brain. This leaves my hair frazzled. I don't care. We don't say a word the whole drive until he turns to me and asks, "Do you want me to take you home, or do you wanna hang out for a bit?"

"I want to stay with you," I say softly, my voice like that of a child.

"Okay." Chase turns left instead of right at the upcoming streetlight. 

When we arrive at his house, Chase goes up to his room. I sit on the living room couch and take in the scene. I have been in this house hundreds of times, but now I am noticing new things everywhere. There is dust collecting underneath the television set. Chase never, not once, smiles with his teeth in any of the painfully-posed family photos mounted along the wall. I seem to be noticing a lot of things today, Chase himself being one of them. Before I know it, Chase returns with a smile and a pile of clothes in his arm. He tosses them to me. I catch a pair of his sweat pants and a T-shirt. I can tell he dug them out of the bottom of a drawer when I hold them out. I doubt they'd fit him now. Thankfully, they just might fit me. 

"Not that you don't look absolutely beautiful," Chase starts shyly, holding his hands up, "but you look miserable in that dress."

I duck into the bathroom to change. A candle is lit atop the counter, filling the entire room with a scent of spicy cinnamon. It must have been left over from Christmas. I breathe in the candle and Chase's old clothes. Bottom of the drawer or not, they still smell just like him. I smile at this discovery and pray that he can't hear my deep inhales from outside the door.

After I change, I feel so much better. Without my dress on, I feel like I can discard some of Luke's fingerprints from my body. I can shred the memory of his touch, like old skin. My arms and legs still remember the spots where his short nails dug into my flesh, and I press the fabric of Chase's clothes against my skin firmly, trying to rub the memories away. I hold my dress up to my nostrils and smell, gagging at the scent of Luke's overpowering cologne that persistently clings to it. When I finally look in the mirror, I nearly scream at my reflection. My makeup has smeared like gore across my face. Why did no one tell me about this?? I scrub at my face until it's raw, leaving it completely bare. For a second, I hesitate to go back out there, to be so dressed-down and scrubbed-out in front of Chase. Quickly, though, I remember the kind of guy Chase is. More importantly, I remember the kind of guy Chase isn't. With that thought for comfort, I throw my dress over my arm and march proudly out of the bathroom and join Chase again in his living room. Now that I'm in more comfortable clothes, I feel a little bit better. I sit on the couch next to Chase, careful to leave a few feet of space between us. I hadn't anticipated the awkward.