Author's Note: Yes, this was written at the expense of working on my chapter story and at the expense of working on my work. But after watching "Open Mic Night" (which is on Disney XD now), this had to be written. It contains some spoilers for that but nothing shocking or unexpected based on the previews. Hence, proceed with caution. This one is a little different for me. Of course, review and let me know what you think.
Sally was always the one. The one that I wanted. The one that I loved although I couldn't say it. She was my everything. And despite what they're saying about it, it was never Casey. Not then. That was never her role.
She was the vehicle. The gateway to my feelings. The means and not the end. When did that change? I still can't say.
She was the one who delivered the one that I wanted. Laid her before me. Practically forced her down my throat when I was ready to give up. And I was happy about it. With Sally, I was finally happy.
But still, the words didn't come. Wouldn't come. Although I loved Sally, the feelings were amorphous. They didn't cohere into words you could touch. She pulled them out of me. Not Sally, Casey. The heat and the sharpness of her voice as she yelled at me forced them through my flesh. Painfully.
And still, I didn't have the courage to say them. Not out loud. Not to Sally. So she did it for me. Casey. Once again, she became my voice. She stood on that platform singing my words, vibrating like a hollow vessel and transmitting my meaning.
And that was the way that it was with us. Sally said or did something directly but I didn't have the courage to respond like that myself. Or perhaps courage isn't even the right word. It simply wasn't my nature. There were always three people in that relationship, Sally, me, and Casey. But Casey wasn't even Casey in my mind. Not a woman, not a person, just a vehicle.
Then Sally went away to college. And we didn't end things. At least not exactly. Instead, we decided to keep things open. We would still e-mail and talk, but should we want to see other people as well, then so be it. Casey told me to tell her I didn't want it. To shed the façade that prevented me from admitting it and forced me to go along with what seemed like the ideal arrangement. And I didn't want it, but I couldn't say anything.
So Casey tried. She told Sally that I truly loved her and begged her not to go along with that arrangement. She said it was not what I wanted and that it was making me miserable. So Sally talked to me again and she asked me if it was what I wanted. I could only shrug my shoulders and tell her that I was fine with whatever made her happy. And we decided to keep things open.
And Casey started to get dark circles under her eyes. She would often ask how Sally was doing and I would blindly repeat the essentials of our latest phone conversation or the contents of her e-mail. And sometimes Casey would stand there in my room as I opened those letters, mouthing the words to herself as she read over my shoulder. Craning her swanlike neck toward the screen as if attempting to see something that I couldn't. And sometimes she would beg me to tell Sally that I loved her and to put an end to the ambiguity before it overcame me.
Somehow, Casey seemed thinner. More frail and more beautiful. As if she was wasting away. She spoke with such passion, begging and pleading for someone else's sake. For my sake. I took to watching her. Watching her as she read my e-mails. Watching her as she paced around my room.
And then one day the e-mails stopped. Without any warning or sign that it was coming. They just stopped and I didn't hear anything for two weeks. Casey noticed the absence. She implored me to call, telling me that it wasn't too late.
And then one day an e-mail came again. Call me. That was all it said. Two words and nothing more. So I did. I waited until most everyone was sleeping, picked up the phone, and called. But I could hear breathing on the line before Sally ever picked up her phone. I could feel her with me and yet I didn't stop her or tell her to hang up the phone.
His name was Gavin. Sally had started hanging out with him because he reminded her a lot of me. Funny, charming, the life of the party. But different. He was better at expressing his feelings. With him, the words flowed. And he wanted to be exclusive . . . I told her I was glad for her. The words seemed hollow as they came out of my mouth, but at the same time, I knew that I meant it. I knew that they were resonating from somewhere within.
I went into her room. There were tears in her eyes and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her hair was wild and in disarray.
"You heard," I said simply.
She nodded softly and met my eyes. Then the words exploded. She told me that I had to call Sally back. To tell her that my feelings hadn't changed. That true love was timeless and that our relationship could overcome any distance.
And the passion was unwarranted. Unwarranted and somehow wrong. She spoke with far more feeling, empathy, and fire than one should ever express about someone's love affair with someone else.
"Tell her that you're feelings won't ever change. That your relationship can weather any distance and heartache and feelings for anyone else."
"Casey," I said, shaking my head sadly. "It can't."
And I kissed her. I kissed her with searing passion and tenderness that was entirely directed at her. And when I broke it off and pulled away she reeled back and burst into tears. Tears of genuine heartache and grief. And maybe she was feeling that sorrow that over Sally that I never had a chance to feel.
And now, as I write, the words flow.
Author's Note: Dally Sadness. I don't hate Sally like most people seem to now. I did a little bit the first time I watched the first episode of the season (yes, I'm sad, I watched it twice) but I actually don't think she's completely awful. And the same time, I can't bring myself to like her. She may be an okay person, but she's not Casey. That's all there is to it for me.