John Montgomery glared down at the mug he had drained, the tea bag slouched against the side. Of course he had forgotten to remove it, yet again. He didn't even like tea, it was just cheaper than anything else. It just seemed like the right thing to order, the distant memory of the same rusty tea kettle always screaming bloody murder on the burned, decrepit stove before. So there he was, staring down at the empty mug, wasting hour after hour.
His eyes barely flitted up to look out the window, every inch of him perfectly aware of the barista's glare--should he order another drink? It was his fifth. He didn't come often enough to excuse the hours he had been sitting there, glaring down at mug after mug of mediocre tea, an old ballpoint pen in his hand to give him sort of excuse as he waited. And waited. And waited.
She was supposed to get out today, she was supposed to meet him, here. Here at this stupid coffee shop where he was too scared to order anything but freaking tea. What kind of person was he? Ordering tea and waiting for a girl he hadn't seen in years, a girl who probably wasn't even going to show up. Maybe he would tell this story in a few years, explain why he had wasted his last Friday before going off to college waiting on someone who had ruined his life. Maybe it would be funny by then, in a few years. But it sure wasn't then.
-
Freedom. That was all Bentley Anderson had wanted for the past two years of her life, and her wish had finally been granted. The rehabilitation center had released her that morning and called a cab to take her back into civilization. She hadn't made any arrangements as to where she would be staying, but she figured just to play it by ear.
Bentley told the cab driver to drop her off at a local coffee shop on Main. As they pulled up, she noticed the shop had a bar to the left of it and everything in her being screamed for her to go in there and drown her sorrows in the deep burn of hard liquor.
He was there already, she saw him from the shop's window. Time slowed until everything around her disappeared but him. God, it had been years.
Bentley gently pushed open the door, triggering the small bell that was placed above it. The noise made her cringe involuntarily. That was one big step forward, walking back into society. Back to him.
"John?"
John could have sworn his heart stopped beating right then and there when he saw her. He couldn't decide if he should stay where he was, lie to her by saying that he hadn't forgave her and this was just a formality. If he should do what he had dreamed of over those two years, to just reassure her that it was okay and he didn't mind and it hadn't hurt like hell. Neither of these options seemed possible, so he did the stupidest one. He looked at the barrister with a smug grin as if to say, see? I did have a reason for being here. I'm not insane.
But then he realized that he had chosen a place with a bar right next to it and he was kicking himself all over again. He forced his hand to release its stifling grip on that asinine ballpoint pen that had been his lifeline, forced his body to push the chair back so he could stand up. "Bentley," he finally said, thanking high heavens that his voice hadn't cracked. He had to prove to her that he hadn't just wasted away over these years, that he was a whole person. That he had matured and learned and lived without her.
Bentley stared at him for a long moment as he stood. It had been far too long since she had heard her name coming from John's lips, and it almost made her want to burst into tears.
And then the moment hit her. Her pale green eyes flicked to the ground and she shuffled her feet nervously. What in the hell was she supposed to say? I miss you, I'm sorry, this is all my fault? None of the apologizes seemed adequate enough for the situation.
"I uh... Hi. It's been a while," she murmured, daring a glance back up at the man before her. She was bracing herself for what was to come. He was a good man, but everyone had their breaking point. She would deserve the screaming and the yelling and the blaming. She deserved all of it.
"Yeah," he replied in a measured voice, his hands jammed into his pockets. He self-consciously ran a hand over his jaw that was coated with dark brown stubble--he had forgotten to shave, yet again. But who was he trying to impress? He felt like he didn't even have the right to say he knew this girl--woman--standing in front of him.
"I have a table. You can get a drink if you want," he offered stiffly, rolling his lower lip through his teeth. He didn't think she'd seen him since he got done with those stupid invisible braces trays. He had remembered that she always had to prep him before kissing because of them. "You look...better." What were you supposed to say when your former girlfriend got out of therapy for addiction? Was there some protocol book he could buy?
At a loss for words, Bentley merely nodded and seated herself at the table. There were so many things she wished to say. So many apologies and excuses she could play off but none of it would matter because at the end of the day she had hurt him and she would never forgive herself for that.
"Thanks, I guess," she mumbled a response and looked up at John. He looked better too.
"Look. I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to say, but if it's any consolation at all, I'm sorry." She explained.
Bentley needed something to calm her nerves. Her fingers tapped uselessly on the table top and her mind began to race. Just got out and it already looks like I'll be checking back in. she thought bitterly.
"It's okay,," he lied. He had told himself that he would tell her off, maybe make her feel enough guilt to compensate for the grief and anger she had thrusted upon him. Was he not enough for her? Did she really have to turn to /alcohol/? He knew that he didn't understand, and that he shouldn't bother trying. It was worthless in the end.
"I've been busy. I'm entering my senior year of college, you know," he replied with a sigh. "But it's not even close to the end. I just secured the fact that I'm going for my doctorate."
She knew he had always wanted to be a neuroscientist, to study the brain and what the hell made it go wrong. He had always been obsessed with genetics and disorders and could be occupied with scans for hours. Did she even know that he was still going for it? Or did she assume he had dropped it as a childish dream?
Bentley shook her head sadly. "No, it really isn't," she muttered with a sigh as she ran her fingers through her caramel colored hair. It was longer now, flowing past her chest. She hadn't decided if she liked it that way.
As John spoke, she listened. He had always been intelligent and ambitious. She lacked that drive, although she had the brains.
"I'm glad. I always hoped you'd go for it." She responded simply. It was true though. The way his eyes lit up when he spoke of getting his doctorate when they were younger made her smile. It's the little things that count.
"There's no use in me finishing college. I have no clue what I'm supposed to do now." Bentley admitted. She was homeless, really. Didn't have a job. The only thing to her name was the records on file at the rehabilitation center, but those were useless.
John frowned when she said that she wasn't even planning on finishing college. "So then what are you planning on doing with your life?" He snapped. "Flipping burgers until you can retire?"
He closed his eyes for a moment. There was absolutely no point in getting mad at her, not on her first day back. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "I just wish you wouldn't allow this whole rehab thing to ruin your life in its entirety."
What was he supposed to tell her? That his old foster sister was single again and that they were talking and that he might possibly /like/ her? Of course, he loved Bentley. If he hadn't, there was no way he would be sitting there with her.
Bentley took in a deep breath and stared out the window for a few long moments before she spoke. He was right, but she was stubborn.
"Do you honestly think I want-" she stopped herself short. She had a temper sometimes and she needed to control it. "It's just not something that I see happening anytime soon. I'll figure everything out."
Truth be told, Bentley was terrified. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to get her life back.
"I'm scared, John. I'm terrified," she whispered quietly.
"I know, I get it," he replied quietly. He almost reached across the table to hold her hand, but stopped. He couldn't complicate things too soon, and he knew it. "I just want to make sure that you don't throw your life away because a rehab clinic set you back a little bit in your twenties."
/A little bit./ The wafting stench of complete and utter bullshit was so pungent he could almost choke on it.
His battered old flip phone on the table buzzed, and he lazily glanced over at it. Jenna, his old foster sister, was already back on campus and wondering where he would be. He muttered a quick apology and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He knew it would be strange, but this /awkward?/
"I won't. You know me, I'm not stupid," Bentley responded. Sure, there had been days where she had contemplated just ending everything right then in there. She didn't want to live this way. She didn't want to lose John. But shit happens.
"I don't even now where I go once I leave this shop." She didn't have any money to stay in a hotel. Her mother had moved a few years back so there wasn't any family in the area. This sucks.
The barista came around and asked of Bentley would like to order anything. She politely shook her head. There wasn't any use anyways.
In an instant, she snapped out of her self pity and looked to John. "So tell me about yourself then? My life has been shit, that's about it. You?"
"I know you're not stupid," he replied quickly, avoiding her eyes and choosing to stare at the festering tea bag instead. "I'm not quite sure what to tell you about where to go. You can't exactly just stay at my dorm, but until you find somewhere..."
Two years ago, he would have been blushing up a storm about the prospect of Bentley staying over night with him /anywhere./ He would have been beyond excited, nervous, impatient until the actual event. But now? Could he handle the thick tension just floating around in the room?
"School's kept me busy," he finally said. "But I've been hanging out with Jenna Lawson again, you know, my old foster sister. She's been going to school in NYC, so we'll get together for concerts and whatnot." That was innocent enough, wasn't it? There was no way that Bentley had found someone new, someone completely different from him at the rehab facility, right? At least no one who was stable enough if they had to be there.
Bentley frowned thoughtfully. She wasn't entirely sure if that was an invite to stay with him for a few nights or what.
"Jenna.. Oh right," She remembered her. Jenna was always the complete opposite of herself. Where Bentley was stubborn and slightly introverted, Jenna was bubbly and had a please everyone attitude. She wasn't sure how she felt about John hanging out with her more, but it wasn't her place to say anything.
There was something behind the 'concerts and whatnot', but she wouldn't push the topic any further.
"I'm glad everything is well, it seems." Bentley exclaimed while pushing forth a small smile. It was the first time she had actually smiled in ages. It felt nice.
He knew perfectly well that statement wouldn't sit well with her. Jenna had been his best friend through all of high school--he knew he was lucky for it, too. She had crazy black curls, dark blue eyes, a body that he wished would cease to exist to make his life easier, and an impeccable taste in music. But she also cried a lot and had too much sex and turned to John when yet another stupid older man left her. He also had to regularly stop her from drowning herself in the bath tub.
"Yeah, it's been okay," he exhaled. "My dad messaged me on Facebook. I would have forwarded it to you, but of course, you couldn't have your phone. At least I know his name now, though." He forced a small laugh, even though he didn't find it funny at all.
"Have you talked to your parents since you've been out?" He hated small talk and they both knew it. So why where they doing it?
Bentley stared at the ceiling a moment, brooding on the current events. The small coffee shop was making her feel a bit claustrophobic.
"I'm glad. That's exciting," good for him. He'd never been overly curious about his birth parents, but it was still nice for him to at least have a piece of them.
Bentley shook her head. Her parents had pretty much given up on eachother and their daughter since their divorce four years ago. "Nope. But it's nothing new. Hey, can we go somewhere else? I'm getting a little anxious being in here," her voice was soft and weak. Bentley wasn't a weak person but every fiber of her being needed to get as far away from that damn bar and the quaint little coffee shop as soon as possible.
He nodded and stood. "I knew you would hate this place, but I just wanted to see if you would agree on coming or not."
John led her out to his car that was just as battered and ancient as his phone. He had stopped being embarrassed of them long ago--he would be a luxury vehicle and a smart phone when he wasn't crippled with college debts.
"Do you mind going back to my dorm? My roommate won't be there yet," he told her, opening her door and walking around to his own.
Thank god! Bentley thought as he agreed to leave. Of course she had come. She'd missed him terrible and definitely wouldn't miss an opportunity to he around him again.
Bentley shrugged and slid into the passenger seat. "No, that's fine with me." Any normal girl would be delighted to go to their ex boyfriend's room, but she doubted anything like that would happen. It would sure be a miracle if he even wanted her around much anymore.
With a deep sigh, the burnt out girl passed a hand over face and peered out the window. She was pleasantly surprised that John hadn't exploded on her yet.
He pulled out of the parking lot, his compact car chugging along. "You've missed the refreshing sound of my engine giving out, admit it," he teased her tightly.
After a few minutes, he reached across the console to lace their fingers together. He didn't know why, but he felt like he needed to.
Once he was parked in the lot of his dorm, he climbed out and waited for her, avoiding her eyes again.
Bentley couldn't help but laugh at his not so funny joke. She used to always give him crap about the state of his car. But she never meant any harm by it.
She nearly jumped when John laced their fingers together. It had been so long since she had human contact that it was almost foreign to her. But at the same time, very soothing. She needed it.
As they came to a stop, Bentley slid out of the car and stood next to him. She frowned. "Hey... " reaching forward, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you." Was all she said. Thank you for making me feel like a normal girl again. was what she meant, referring to him holding her hand back there.
"Thank you for what?" He asked quietly, walking with her toward the dorms. "I've done literally nothing. I didn't even buy you a drink."
He kept his distance from her as they trekked up, as he slid his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. "You haven't really seen it since you...went in."
His bed was pristinely made, his desk absolutely ladden with both textbooks and novels, along with an expectantly ancient laptop that couldn't function unplugged. His guitar was in the corner, his walls plastered with photos with Bentley, Jenna, and a few other friends from high school. "Have you met my roommate, Ben?"
Bentley just shook her head, preoccupied with the fact that she was actually going to his dorm room. She noticed his apprehension toward walking close to her.
Once inside, her eyes instinctively went to the photos on the wall. She spotted herself in a few of them; all healthy, smiling. A single tear dropped down Bentley's cheek at the memories, but she quickly brushed it away.
"I don't believe I have met him." She replied, turning back around to face John. Everything resembled his personality perfectly, and it made her want to cry even more. Stay strong. she reminded herself.
"He's nice, but a total mess." True to his word, Adam's side of the room was covered in basketball shorts and McDonald's bags. "I actually stole some of Jenna's perfume just so it wouldn't reek like your future of flipping burgers," he teased her lightly.
He wasn't sure if sitting on the bed would imply anything, but he did. "I'm overthinking like crazy. When did I start having to work so hard around you?"
Bentley rolled her eyes at his teasing, but allowed a smile to form on her lips again. She frowned lightly as he sat on his bed. Does she sit with him or..? She settled with standing awkwardly in front of him, her arms crossed nonchalantly.
With a sigh, she regarded John. "Look, I realize things are obviously going to be a bit different, but I'm still me. I just hit a bump in the road. I'm recovering, and I just... Please just... " Bentley was cut short by her own thoughts. Be there for me. she thought.
"What can I do for you?" He asked seriously, barely reaching out and holding her waist. He had missed physical touch just as much as she had.
"Just tell me what you need from me and I'll do it. I'm tired of being alone in everything." He finally looked her in the eye, the hurt of those two years making a clear appearance. "You were my /best friend./"
Her breath caught in her throat as he held her waist. She closed her eyes a moment, enjoying it.
"I just need you... I need you to stay with me through this okay? I can't do this alone." She gently ran her fingers through his hair. "I hate being alone just as much as you do."
Bentley smiled sadly down at him. "I still am. That hasn't changed, John."