~ Romeo and Juliet ~
Pov Beca
I climb the stairs of the basement quickly, noticing that at the top, there are several eyes staring at me insistently.
Well, what are you looking at?
I turn to the window that connects the terrace to the inside, and I see Blake talking to Jesse about who knows what. I hope not me.
Blake, give me the car keys.
Oh... Okay.
I see my manager throwing the keys at me without hesitation, frowning her forehead slightly, and immediately after I make my way between Amy, Stacie and the others, who were still there at the edge of the stairs. I notice with the corner of my eye, how Long Legs is trying to make a smoke signal to Blake in order to get her closer, in the meantime that I head towards the bar counter, to recover the first bottle of alcohol that comes along, among those lined up on the inside to be within reach of the barman.
I'll take this one, tomorrow I'll come to pay for everything. It's really an amazing place, congratulations.
I add, staring and winking at the boy on the other side of the counter, with a low but audible voice, who smiles at me and greets me cordially as I walk towards the exit.
Beca, wait.
Beca, where are you going?
It's as if the world around me no longer makes any noise, as if I were in my soap bubble and heard nothing. I'm not interested in listening to anyone. Not anymore. Not now. Unfortunately, the bottle I caught between the others doesn't have a cork, but it has the typical cone-shaped spout used to prevent the alcoholic beverage from being poured more than it should. It's a shame that at the moment, what I need is not a moderate amount of alcohol, indeed. I forcefully remove the spout from the bottle and throw it backwards not caring exactly who I could hit or not, worse for him or her. I put my hand on the door of the restaurant and push it with energy, while with the other I keep the bottle to drink what seems to be whiskey. Few times I've tried it, I'm not a crazy fan, but now it doesn't make any difference, one is worth the other. I'm about to set foot on the porch of the pub, when I feel a hand stop me by the wrist and turn around.
Beca wait. Where are you going?
It's none of your business.
I say turning back and taking another sip from the bottle, but I am stopped again in my path. I don't know how long I'll stay calm.
What's wrong with you?
What do you think you're doing?
I don't know, maybe go away if you just let me?
I get rid of Stacie's grip on my arm throwing a cold glare at all of them, pushing the front door again to get out of the room. I can no longer tolerate being in there.
I'm coming with you.
I see Blake making her way through the Bellas and reaching me by putting her hand around my shoulders, continuing to walk with me without saying anything. That's it why I like her, she doesn't ask questions. She's just there. She understands when it's time to talk and when it's necessary to be silent. And this is one of those cases. We are now almost arrived at the parking lot, and unintentionally I turn my head on the side to be able to look behind me, from above Blake's arm, still in the same position. The girls are still all there, on the porch of the pub probably amazed by my blaze of glory. Only Amy has had the opportunity to see me in these conditions during the last 2 years, but the others have not. And maybe that's why she didn't intervene. She knows it doesn't come anything good. However, I can not help but notice how it seems that someone is trying to make room between them, to see what is happening. And there it is, my concept of happiness and misery in one person. I am furious. With her, with me. She slammed the door in my face once again. What the hell does she think she's getting? What the fuck does she want from me? God, I could slap her in the face. Our eyes cross for a moment that never seems to end, until I have enough. It's not fair.
I take another sip of whiskey from the bottle, closing my eyes to the burning throat that gradually becomes stronger.
So, this is it. I leave "ocean eyes" behind me, and no, it's not just the name of the place. Go to hell Chloe, you can't do this to me anymore.
Okay, little bitch, we're here. Give me the keys, I'll drive.
No Blake, I drive.
Uh-huh. Drink or drive. Your choice.
I stare at her for a few seconds squinting my eyes suspiciously, but eventually I realize that at the moment, the only thing needed is to drown it all in this fantastic and so friendly bottle of alcohol, so.
Okay, you win. But, go fast.
Yeah okay, jump on. My car, my rules.
We simultaneously enter her two-seater Black Porsche and whizz away from that place. I don't know where we're going, what's going to happen tomorrow when I will wake up with a headache that I'll definitely regret, but I don't care now. I just want to try to silence everything in my head. Only for now, at least.
¦In the meantime at Ocean Eyes¦
Pov Chloe
She loves me. She said she loves me. After two years, she still has feelings for me. I feel like a bucket full of ice has been spilled on my head. Should I have expected that? I don't know. I knew there was something in her, between us, that connection that has always distinguished us, but I did not believe that way. Or at least not until I kissed her at her house. Since then, the confusion in my head has only worsened. What should I do? My God, what a situation.
Chloe, can I talk to you?
I'm being diverted from my thoughts by Stacie, who seems to be about to spit fire out of her mouth. I notice how Fat Amy is also following her, but she smiles at me weakly and approaches without saying a word.
Yeah, tell me Stace.
We move to a corner of the pub inside, while the others return to the terrace probably to retrieve their belongings and leave. No guest of honor, no party, I guess.
What game are you playing?
Um... What?
I stared at her, furrowing my eyebrows, and moved my gaze between her and Amy, trying to pick up something from the Australian, with no result.
Chloe, don't try to play dumb and answer the question. What are you doing?
I... I don't know. Really... It's all so confusing...
I answer by bringing my hand to my forehead and looking down. I can't tell anything more, I have a storm of thoughts in my mind at the moment, of feelings that I don't even know how to classify. In less than a month I'm getting married, my ex has declared her love for me no less than 5 minutes ago, and now I have two of my dearest friends to question me. Can I disappear?
Don't you know? Let me tell you something then: I don't know what happened more than two years ago, Beca never went into details about your breakup, but what I saw in this long period was a broken girl who arrived on the edge of the abyss and fell into it with all her feet, but as soon as she saw you, she looked a little less ghostly and a little more Beca. And even a blind man could understand that she is doted on you, and she would go and get you the Moon too if it were possible.
Stace I don't-
No, let me finish.
She stops me raising her hand and looks at me with such a serious gaze that it almost gives me the creeps. I didn't think it would be possible to see such an expression on her.
I know for a fact that she loves you, and I know for a fact that she is the only person who would make you really happy in this miserable world. But I'm starting to doubt that you're not the right person for her. Not after this last one of her exit. So do yourself and her a favor, take a step back and never be seen again, not until you understand what you want from life. If you decide to stay, stay for real. Otherwise go away, let her live her life in peace, because no one deserves to be the second choice. Especially not Beca. Makeup your mind, Ginger.
I remain with my mouth half-closed, stunned, as I see her move away and leave the restaurant, without any sound coming out of my lips. Amy is still here with me, in silence, probably because she shares Stacie's words but doesn't want to underline them further. Maybe my astonished and amazed face speaks for itself. I don't know what to say, I don't know if I can think of Stacie's speech as a scolding, but the feeling I have is very close. The impressive thing is that she spoke to me so firmly that it was quite surreal. I doubt I'll ever forget this moment. She elegantly told me to get out of the way, to fuck off. Maybe I should have expected this too, it was foreseeable that someone would take Beca's side. I just didn't think she'd talked about our 'situation', if that's what it's called. Or maybe not, and they figured it out for themselves. They probably know Beca better than I do now. I can't explain it differently. Especially because I feel a bit annoyed to know that she told someone everything that happened, without telling me anything. Well, what did you expect, Chloe? A registered mail? You can't get upset if your ex decides to talk about what happens in her life with her best friends, who, for the record, are also yours.
Chloe?
Mm?
I don't realize that I've been staring at a fixed point all the time for a few moments, so I look away from the floor and turn to Amy, who seems to be the only one who remains impartial in this story.
I don't know what you're going through right now, and I don't dare to imagine what you have in your mind, but you should really solve this situation. Do it for Beca. Whatever choice you make, make it the one that really makes you happy, because I'm sure the only thing that matters to her is your happiness. So do it for her.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and looks me right in the eye and then hugs me briefly and walks away. I don't have time to reply, today it seems to be like this. Except with her, earlier she gave me plenty of time to answer in front of the infinity of the ocean, although my answers were more syllables than anything else.
Do I love her?
I can't answer that. That's the truth. I know that I care, she was still my girlfriend, and before that, my best friend. My ex-girlfriend, who kept a lot of things behind me, who didn't worry about me being hurt when I saw her so far away from me, who lied to me, who kept such an important part of her life from me, and it's inevitable to ask myself if I really know her. Can I still trust her? What version of Beca has she shown me all these years? Who have I fallen in love with? Was it just a part of her? The real one? I don't know.
Am I afraid?
Yes. I'm terrified. I don't think there's anything worse to experience than confusion and total uncertainty, especially about something so important. I am afraid to be further disappointed, to find myself again in 2 years, with something hidden, something not said, and I would feel twice as bad.
Am I really considering getting back together with her? What about Chicago?
He loves me. And I love him. He never let me down, he never made me miss anything, he was always there, he gave up his place in Philadelphia to be with me in New York, and now he decided to move to the other side of America with me, for me, to build a life with me, a family. And that's what I want too.
With him?
That was the plan. Or at least I thought it was. I had planned a life with him, a happy life, and now it just looks like a good picture. One of those perfect paintings, that sometimes it is difficult to even imagine them in real life. And maybe that's the problem? No. It's not. My problem is me. Neither Chicago, nor Beca, nor anyone. I don't want to choose, I didn't think I would ever find myself in front of this situation. It was a closed chapter. I had moved on, I had left her behind. But I probably didn't realize that it was one of those chapters that is too beautiful to read only once, and it is read continuously, until the pages were worn out. Maybe this is love? Devoting ourselves for each other? It can be.
Would I do it for Chicago?
I'm marrying him, I think that's enough as an answer.
Really? And for Beca?
God. It's so tremendously difficult. I kissed her twice, I can't even describe how I felt. What if it is just a moment? What if it's just a temporary thing? If it was just because she came back into my life so suddenly, and only catched my attention for this period? What do I do if that's the case? I can't allow it. Not for me, not for her. I should step aside and end this story. It's the best thing for everyone. Right?
Then, why do I feel like it's the wrong one?
Miss? In a little while we'll be closed, the others are almost all gone, do you want me to call someone for you?
I turn to the waiter who has kindly approached me with a friendly smile on his lips, although from his face you can see the tiredness of a long work shift.
No... No thanks. Forgive me if I stayed longer than I should, goodbye, and congratulations for the place.
Don't worry. Safe return Miss. Goodnight.
I open the entrance door leaving it immediately behind me and slowly descend the steps of the porch. It's a quiet night, you only hear a few crickets singing and the sound of the waves breaking slowly on the beach. It is the perfect scenario to share with someone important, to create memories, to imprint in your head the scent of the sea, the salt, the splendor of the stars and the beauty of the person who is next to you, in this light a bit 'special. These are things that hardly happen many times in life. These are magical nights, when it seems that the world has decided to make you a gift, creating the right conditions to make them unforgettable. Just like in movies. And as if it were meant to be, as if the major forces had decided that it should be like this, she chose the right night to tell me "I love you". As if she had unwittingly wanted to make witnesses of her feeling, all the beauty and infinity of what was in front of our eyes. I don't think I can ever remove such a view from my mind, as her eyes, as dark as the waters of the ocean, stormy, but which even so represents the safe haven where anyone, if lucky, would take refuge. And she gave me the chance tonight. She made me one of those lucky people. Do I really deserve it? Is that what I want?
What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel?
(A/N *Who are you, hidden in the night, that stumbles on my thoughts?*)
I whisper, looking up at the sky and contemplating the stars. Shakespeare. It's absurd how some things don't change over the centuries. How the stories told by people, poets and writers are always the same. Especially about love. And if in the poem Juliet spoke about Romeo, in my case it can only be her. Irremediably in my thoughts. What do I have to do to send you away?
I hear the phone vibrate in the back pocket of my jeans indicating a new message. I unlock the screen immediately, and notice how there are some notifications coming from Bellas' chat thanking for the party, and two texts from Chicago.
Chicago 1.45 am
When will you be back, love? I just got back from Bernie's party.
Chicago 2.13 am
Babe, would you that I wait for you awake? Let me know as soon as you leave, do you want me to come and get you? Love you.
Can he be more attentive than he is? I don't think so. He would pick me up from Santa Monica at this hour so I wouldn't have to go home alone. That's probably exactly what I fell in love with, two years ago. He takes care of me, he always has. I was so lucky to find him, and soon to marry him.
However... she did it too, she remembered everything. Nothing missed her and there was no need to ask her anything, because she was already doing it, or had already done it. And it's not just about material things, it's also about asking me every day how it was veterinary school, or waiting for me every night so that we could have dinner together, or coming to pick me up from school so that I could go home with her. Our house. How strange it is to remember that place. I loved it more than anything, as much as I hated it. After breaking up with her I always looked for another apartment, I didn't want to stay in that one anymore. Too many memories, her smell soaked in the walls and bed we shared. It hurts, it hurts a lot. But unfortunately for me, I couldn't find anything better. Maybe it had to be like this, I had to live with her constant memory every day. Even though I wouldn't have forgotten her anyway, even if I had moved to the top of the world. Chicago often asked me why he couldn't spend the night with me in my old apartment, but I never told him the real reason. As bad as it hurt me to be in there, I didn't want anyone to erase or overlap Beca, what Beca was in that house. Especially not in our bed, where we declared our love more than once. I couldn't. I always told him that the sofa bed was uncomfortable for sleeping and it would be better if he slept on the stones than there. It wasn't a lie at all, that sofa was really terrible. If I concentrate I can still feel the springs of the mattress sticking under my back. But lying there with her was what I was looking forward to all day long. I couldn't wait to watch her fall asleep next to me. Beautiful.
But it's just the past now, and nothing will ever be the same again. So it's better to go ahead and leave it all behind before it's too late.
Me 2.17 am
I'm leaving now, CK, I'll be there in half an hour, or so. Don't wait up, sleep quietly, honey. Love you.
I retrieve the keys from my bag and get into the car, throwing the phone on the passenger seat. I push the button to start the engine and automatically my hands reach the steering wheel. It almost seems like I don't want to leave this place, it's as if in that open basement I left something that belongs to me. Something I can't let go of. But I have to. Right?
Ah...damn it!
I forcefully push the accelerator in order to be able to backtrack and I leave the car park, going down the street. From the rear-view mirror I notice behind me only a little 'dust raised by the abrupt movement of the car. Or maybe not just that. Also a part of me left there, of which I will have to forget sooner or later.
There's no one around, fortunately, I'd venture to add. It's just me, competing with the white stripes of the road, to those who go faster. They're speeding next to me on this lonely night, as if they were the only ones to keep me company. I turn on the radio to fill the oppressive silence that surrounds me and leaves room only for the noise of my thoughts. It's not exactly what I need right now. I don't want to think, I don't want to ruminate on, I don't want to do anything. I just want tonight to be suspended in time, so I can't go on. But it's not possible.
The voice of the speaker echoes in the car without me paying much attention, until it is replaced by the first notes of a song that I wanted to avoid listening now, what timing. It almost seems like a conspiracy. Fight song. It's her song. She's pretty damn good, my God. Her voice has always enchanted me. Ever since I discovered her singing Titanium in the shower at Barden. You can hear her anger in the words, her disappointment and her desire for redemption. If I closed my eyes I could even imagine her singing. It would be the exact representation of the fire. Burning. I can't imagine what she went through when she left, what happened to her, I had no clue what she had been through all her life. I had no idea, she never told me about it. I wish I knew. Maybe I should talk to her, I don't think it's right to leave things hanging like that. Or I should just avoid her, get out of her life without making any noise. Don't let me see or hear again. Well, I don't think that's a problem, it doesn't already happen. It's just that the Bellas are in the middle, and she's part of it. Do I have to give up on them too? I can't take them away from her, not now that she seems to have resumed a bit of a relationship with all of them. Almost all of them.
Is that really the conclusion of everything? I didn't imagine it that way. Or rather, I hadn't imagined it at all. I thought it was all over already. And I also got used to the idea of being left like that 2 years ago. Maybe I was also okay with it, in a way. I had someone to bear all the responsibility for the situation, someone to blame, someone to be angry with. But now there's no one, there's me. Sometimes it's easier to find others guilty of your own misery, or your own misfortune. When it comes to yourself, however, you can never admit it. We always look for the quibble, the expedient, to lift whatever the weight that is on our heads. But in this case it's different. The weight to bear is the lack of courage, the fear of being hurt, of colliding with a person who is not really who you thought she was, of disappointing those around me. Maybe I'm choosing the easiest, or probably the most difficult, way. I don't know. Is it easier to live a life already planned, a good life, with someone next to you who really loves you and be aware that in a parallel universe, maybe if I had made another choice, I would have been equally happy, maybe even happier, but with less sureness, or, the opposite? Living a life of which nothing is known, full of uncertainties, and to know that if only I had chosen otherwise I would live a life with more tranquility? What is better?
It's so absurd. I should choose between remorse and regret. A life of regret or a life of remorse? They seem to be the same thing, often you get confused. But they are two totally different concepts. The regret comes from the lack of something, something that has been lost. Rethinking with bitter nostalgia. And in my case what I lose, is her. Or maybe I've already lost. Remorse, on the other hand, is a turmoil derived from an action performed, from an error. Something that torments us, that leaves no peace. Simple life. Planned. It could be the remorse that I will always carry with me.
I was wrong. I can't choose between a life of regret or remorse. These are not two feelings that are excluded. They are two sides of the same coin, if there is one, there is also the other. So whatever I do, I lose something anyway.
What if there is another alternative?
No.
It's not there. Damn.
After about 20 minutes I reach the street of my house and I park my car in front of the garage, in the alley. I notice that the bedroom light is still on. Maybe Chicago waited for me awake, or he fell asleep with the light on and didn't turn it off. I pick up my bag from the passenger seat and the phone and get out of the car, heading for the front door. There are LEDs in the garden that indicate the small path of stones that crosses the fake grass to reach the steps of the porch, where instead there are the lanterns that illuminate the entrance. Everything is rather suffused. Nothing blinding.
Where the hell are they? Why can't I ever find them?
I try in vain to look for the home keys in the bag, which as always, as far as I'm concerned, is comparable to a black hole in the universe. I should start to put things in my jacket pockets, or keep them in my hand at all times. Maybe that's the only way I won't spend eternity finding them. And even in this case I have doubts.
Oh thank God!
Finally I can find them in the most hidden part of the bag, the inner pocket, which for normal people is obviously not so hidden, but for me it is. I put the key in the door patch but suddenly I hear the phone vibrate against the palm of my left hand, indicating the arrival of a normal message. Who the fuck is at this time of night? Or should I say morning? Well.
Beca Mitchell 2.43 am
Youtf're fucknig beatful. But also fiuckng bitch. And I love you and I hatesd yoiu, shit. Fuck you. You brke my heart oncr agin. Damn
What the-?
Beca Mitchell 2.44 am
Dont you evet talk to me againns. Never again. Stauy aeway froaam me. I fuuhcking love you, and you lov tha assholls of States. You'rrr with a state of Statess.
Beca Mitchell 2.44 am
Ahahah. State of States. I'm hilaridjious.
Okay. She's not fine. Not at all. What the hell is wrong with her? I don't-
Beca Mitchell 2.45 am
Chloe. I'm Blake. I ripped the phone out of Beca's hand, she's definitely drunk. But even though her brain is mush, she said what you deserved. Stay away from her, otherwise you'll have to deal with me. Peace and love.
Blake. What right does she have to talk to me like that? She doesn't know me. It's just Beca's fucking manager, what the hell is she doing with her private life? What nerves. Stacie is not enough to give me a lecture, even this blond giraffe we missed. What the hell does everyone have today? Suddenly it seems as if the world has turned against me. As if I had become the enemy from which everyone has to stay away. No one is a saint here. Not even Beca. And it seems that no one understands it. As if I hadn't suffered, as if I am not suffering now. Just fuck off. Nobody can tell me what to do and what not to do, let alone a hen blonder than me.
I hold on my cell phone tightly and I snap the door lock going into the house. I just want to go to bed, to Chicago, the only one who seems to have no problem with me. I hang my bag on the coat rack at the entrance and head quickly to the stairs to go up to my room. I'm so angry. That's what I didn't need tonight, too. I preferred to be calm and confused, than confused and a nervous wreck. Damn it. Damn me and that day when I got the happy idea to give a party for my wedding. It was totally uncalled for. None of this would have happened. I would have been clueless forever. Or maybe not. Who knows? I would have much rather remained unaware than that.
My feet reach the bedroom door, from where a glimmer of the lamp's light comes out. Take a deep breath, Chloe. Calm down. If he saw you in this state, he would definitely start asking you questions and now is not the time to talk about it.
I place my hand on the handle and push it down so that I can slowly open the door, in order to not make noise if he is sleeping. And there he is, bare-chested, with his glasses still on his face and an open book left on the bed, still with his hand trying to hold it, in vain. Probably the reading was not so exciting if he fell asleep like this. I approach slowly, taking the book from his hand to put it on his bedside table. I take off his glasses from the face and involuntarily stop to observe him, just touching his cheek with my finger, caressing him. It's so beautiful. Does he really deserve all this? Have I really considered giving him up? How? He's been close to me all this time, and if we've come to take such a step it means it's not just a rebound. He's not a second-best. But can I call him the love of my life?
What a difficult question. Maybe. Probably yes. I don't know. God, I was so sure before I met Beca again. How annoying.
Chloe... You're here.
I'm distracting from my thoughts as soon as I hear his voice slurred by sleep, and I notice how he's blinked several times to get used to the light of the lamp on his bedside table, smiling slightly.
Hey... Yes, I arrived a few minutes ago. Is the reading not so interesting?
I ask him in a low voice, giggling slightly as I see him positioning better in the bed, sitting completely on the mattress with his shoulder resting on the headboard.
Terrible indeed. Are you all right? You look thoughtful.
I lift my eyes immediately, crossing them with his, I didn't think he would notice. He senses everything, even if she is half asleep. Absurd.
Yes, all right, babe. Go back to sleep, I'll change my clothes and join you immediately.
I answer by holding his leg slightly with one hand, and then get up so as to go to the bathroom to change.
Wait. Come here. I missed you.
I feel his kind grip on my wrist, stopping my advance towards the bathroom. I turn to him and all he does is look at me like any woman wants to be looked at by whom she loves. There is nothing but love in those two dark wells. Without saying anything, a spontaneous smile makes my lips curve and slowly I approach him, lying in his arms.
You know, I know a faster way to make you change. Want to experiment?
I chuckle always rather subliminal messages, he's a real idiot sometimes. But it makes me laugh, and that's important. No?
Oh, I guess. I have a few ideas.
I answer him in a playful way, lifting my face to reach his gaze and as if it were completely automatic, our lips meet halfway, clashing and starting an endless dance. Our short breaths, his hands on me, which gently push me to lie down on the bed and take off every garment they meet on the way, and mine on him. That's what I needed, isn't it? Or is it just a distraction? Is it just a way to escape from something? A barrier I'm creating to avoid dealing with the situation? A month ago this would have seemed to me a very normal thing, one of the many intimate moments with my boyfriend, future husband, so why now do I feel like I'm cheating on someone? Why do I feel like taking advantage of him?
I'm just impressed. It's not like that. I love him. Right?
Wait, wait... CK, maybe. Um... Maybe it's better if we just sleep. I'm very tired. Do you mind?
I see him rising from my body almost immediately, leaving a trail of wet kisses from my chest to my neck.
Sure, babe, don't worry.
He positions himself behind me, to the side, as if we were two spoons, he the big one and me the little one, wrapping my waist with his arm.
Thank you, good night CK.
Good night, love.
He kisses me on the nape of my neck and I feel his deep breath shattering against my hair after not even a minute. He has an impressive ability to fall asleep. Good Lord.
It wasn't supposed to be like this tonight. It wasn't supposed to be just that way. What did you do Beca? Why can't I send you away?
Damn it.
