The Best You Ever Had

Just Friends. Or Something.

We played our final show of Hearts and Guitars, and once the fireworks had faded and the smoke had cleared, I found myself dragging a suitcase up to the front door of my house. It was a modern design, clean and white, with dark trim and a black door that stared at me like it was wondering how I would react to what I found inside. Or rather, what I wouldn't find.

I took a shaky breath and unlocked the door, quickly moving to disarm the alarm. And then I stood in the foyer, staring at the house that until this moment had been my home with Brian. Without moving further into the house, I couldn't see any difference, but even standing there by the front door, I could feel it. It was colder, darker, even in the morning light, and I could have sworn I felt a draft.

I could only stand there so long, so I moved deeper into the house, noticing little things here and there. Just little odds and ends that were missing, and the fact that none of the mail on the kitchen counter was addressed to him. The fact that the pictures of his family and friends were gone. And when I finally took my suitcase up to the bedroom, half my walk-in closet was empty.

I sat down right there on the floor and cried again. Until that moment, I could almost have convinced myself that Brian wasn't really gone. But somehow, the empty space drove it home that he'd left. That I was alone. I don't know how long I stayed there, but it must have been a while, because my housekeeper, Susan, doesn't come until the afternoon, and she's the one who found me, curled up asleep on the closet floor.

"Miss James," she said softly, waking me gently. "Are you okay?"

I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, which were sore from crying. "I'll be fine, Susan. Just tired."

She nodded, but stood there, hesitating.

"Are you okay?" I asked, getting off the floor.

She took a deep breath. "It's just that I couldn't help but notice...some things are gone," she said tactfully.

"Yeah. Brian and I split. Which I suppose is good news for you. Less work to do around here. He was always the messy one." I tried to make light of it, but there was a wobble in my voice.

"Do you need anything?" she asked me kindly. She was an older woman, with graying hair and smile lines around her mouth and eyes. She had three kids and two granddaughters, the apples of her eye. She was a caretaker at heart.

"Don't you worry about me. I'm gonna be just fine," I answered her.

We walked out of the closet and she went to leave the room, but stopped, turning around. "Let me know when you're unpacked. I'll start your laundry for you."

I started to protest. I could do my own laundry. She came once a week to help keep things tidy, not to do my everyday chores.

She stopped me before I could speak. "Sometimes we need a little extra care. Even if it's just starting a load to wash." She winked before she left the room.

I stood there for a minute, with my arms wrapped around myself. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I definitely needed a nap. But first, I had to unpack.

****

Waking up the next morning was hard. All I wanted to do was stay in bed, but I made myself get up, if for nothing other than a change of scenery. I moved from my bed to the couch and had ice cream for breakfast while I watched crap television. I could have stayed there all day, doing nothing, ignoring texts from Jenny and Ronnie, but then the phone actually rang.

It was our manager, Billy. I knew why he was calling, and I knew I had to answer.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual and unbothered.