Can You Make It Easier
Chapter 5: "Too Many Maybes"
Thursday [six days later]
He
walked away from me
One
sweet summer day
And
nothing's ever been the same
I can't
help it anyway
"You're making it too hard," Melissa greeted Val, leaning on the door frame of Val's room, her brown hair up in a high ponytail from work and her gray eyes serious and not playful as they normally were. She was still dressed in her light blue cotton pants and white shirt from the hospital—she was a junior psychologist—but managed to look as imposing as she usually did… even though she was two inches shorter than Val.
Val looked up from her homework, blue eyes troubled.
"For whom?"
"Tyler." Melissa walked like a cat, sleek and full of potential electricity, into the room. Val let out a breath of air, sighing.
"I don't care."
Melissa bit her lip and kept her temper cooled. Yes, her temper was fiery and excitable, though she wasn't angered easily, just provoked. And it provoked her very much to see two people who were perfect for each other pretend they hated each other.
"Look, you guys need to get a grip on reality," said Melissa. "This charade has lasted long enough."
"Melissa, maybe this is the real thing! Maybe I've lost him and maybe he doesn't care and maybe the only reason he came back is to watch me bleed and hope we can still be friends! Maybe he just wants to say goodbye in person and maybe I don't care anymore and maybe I don't love him and maybe"—Val's voice broke as she tried to stop the tears—"maybe I'm wrong and maybe there's no hope and maybe I'm still madly in love with him… and maybe he'll leave… and maybe I'll be alone… and maybe this is too many maybes to know what I'm going to do with my life and how I'm going to deal with him." She lost composure completely and burst into angry sobs. "And so—maybe—I should give up."
"No!" Melissa's answer was immediate and definite and left no doubt she knew what was going to happen, what had to happen, and Val should devote herself to accomplishing that. "Val, you guys are far too in love with each other to give up! You can dye your hair purple and get your nose pierced and run down State Street in a Big Bird costume, but for God's sake, don't think it's over if you haven't even begun again! Let him die, break his bloody heart, but you are going to break your own in the process and you know that! Don't let it happen, Val, don't let it happen!"
Silver tears ran, unaltered, untouched, down Val's cheek and fell to the bedspread and her shirt and melted into the cloth, weaving itself into the fibers, disappearing.
Except nothing ever disappears.
Val wiped the tears from her cheeks with brutal fingers and wrung her hand, sending the droplets flying.
But one slowly clung to her fingertip, and she watched it as it slowly melted into her skin.
"I don't know anymore, Melissa," Val said, eyes still on her fingers as they relaxed, "and you know I don't. I'm so confused, and I want to not care, so badly, but I do care, and I would rather kill myself than purposely break his heart. It's like there's some candle in me that keeps burning, because there's that much hope left, but I swear, Melissa, soon there's not going to be any hope left because he's going to leave and he's going to break my ruddy heart."
Melissa's smoky gray eyes were trained on Val, and she was so utterly serious, so definitely meaning when she said precious few words:
"Only if you let him leave."
She didn't explain herself, didn't answer Val's questioning gaze, didn't say anything but leave the room and leave Val alone with her jumbled thoughts, her jumbled, jumbled thoughts.
They promised I would be okay,
They said it'd all turn out
right
But there's always another maybe
And that's why I can't sleep at
night
Her footsteps roused him from a half-doze, and he sat up and looked at her through suddenly awake eyes for five forty-five in the morning. "Where are you going?" Tyler asked, his voice only partly marred with sleep and drowsiness, the rest alert and interested. "Out," Val said, divulging nothing in a monotone voice. "But where?" "Out." She slipped the earphones to the Walkman into her ears and walked out the door. Why did songs have to be so meaningful, Val wondered as she pressed the down button, listening to the easy music roll over her ears. "Harder to say goodbye Than it was to say hello You disappeared over all these years And I didn't know where to go…" She changed the station, wanting to get Tyler off her mind as she went out for a morning jog. No luck. "My heart is broken Broken Broken My heart is broken Broken Broken My heart is broken So broken I want you to break it So I can live again My heart is broken Broken So broke—" Val switched off the radio and listened to Melissa's tape. At least this time it wasn't about someone's heart being broken—she was listening to Melissa's new tape, a mix of songs by lesser-known singers. I wonder if there's a reason why it was set to that song, Val mused as the song ended and she stepped off the elevator, 'cause I thought she didn't like the singer. Going out the front door on her way across the street to the gym, she froze when she realized that this song was exactly like all the others… Maybe you broke my heart Maybe I let you Maybe this was never real Maybe this was never true
Val angrily switched off the Walkman and headed back to her apartment. So she'd miss one morning jog. Big deal. The main problem was realizing Tyler was there and what she was supposed to do about it. And admitting you still love him, her annoying inner voice pointed out. Val pushed it away—too many questions, not enough answers, and no time to find them out.
*
"Has anyone seen my shoe?"
5:15 pm Thursday night, and Val was panicking. Tyler shifted on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knee and drew a silvery blue sandal from under the cushion.
"Here."
Val stomped into the room with the other shoe on her foot and grabbed it from Tyler, muttering something that sounded like "hate the banquet… don't want to go… important to career… Rodney…" mingled with a couple swears. Tyler's eyes were amused as he looked at her.
"Bad day?" he asked innocently. Val scowled and attempted to pull on her shoe.
The door opened and Melissa walked in. Val promptly fell over trying to tug on the other shoe and landed unhappily on the carpet with her shoe half on and an unsatisfied look on her face.
Melissa cracked up and Tyler looked back at his computer, trying to hold the laugh in. Val cast another scowl at Melissa and stood up, heading for her room.
"Where's she going?" Tyler inquired. Melissa looked at him, puzzled. Had this intelligent man suddenly turned into an idiot?
"To her room," said Melissa. Tyler sighed.
"No, I meant tonight, where's she going?"
"Oh. Some big thing the hospital's president is holding. He's the grandson of the founder, it's black tie and if she goes, it'll boost her career at the hospital significantly." Melissa went into the kitchen and Tyler called after her with the dreaded question:
"Who's she going with?"
He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, and Melissa didn't respond as she got a Coke out the refrigerator.
"A friend from her classes."
"A friend?" Tyler hoped Melissa was telling the truth—but Val had never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, had she?
"Tyler," Melissa said as she came into the room again, "Val has never once had any type of a relationship for five years, and she's not starting now, not when you're around, not when her heart's still broken."
Tyler couldn't breathe—this information was suffocating him, threatening to let loose and explode him if he didn't keep control, if he didn't know exactly what he was doing and what was happening and what was going on.
The phone rang, breaking his thoughts and interrupting the conversation.
Tyler was nearest the phone, but he was frozen, as Melissa's gray eyes noted, so she crossed the room and picked it up.
"Hello?… Just a minute, please." Melissa covered the mouthpiece and yelled, "VAL! PHONE!"
It took hardly any time at all for Val to pick up the phone, and Tyler tried very hard not to make eye contact, not to have to explain the feelings he knew were bared in his eyes for the world to see, revealed by Melissa's well chosen words.
"Hello?" Val asked politely. "Oh, hi, Rod, what is it?" Tyler heard Rodney's words echo from the phone and instantly pitied the man who would feel Val's wrath: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T MAKE IT?" she yelled. "This is important!… Who cares if you have the flu?… So what? Use crutches! Do you know what this is going to look like? First of all, you're not even going to be there, which will totally destroy your career, and then I won't have a date, and I'll look pathetic, and it'll destroy my career, and—what?… No possible way! Not after this!… No, not ever! Bye!" Val slammed the phone down and yelled at the nearest living object.
Who was Tyler.
"What are you looking at?" she asked. He shrunk back a bit and looked at his computer.
"My job."
Val sighed and calmed herself slightly, but her feathers were again ruffled when Melissa cut in:
"What'd he say?" Melissa asked, interested.
"He can't make it! He has the flu and sprained his ankle, so he has to stay home—then he wanted to know if I wanted to go out with him—and now what am I going to do? I mean, Josh is busy and Tommy is in Indiana…" Val started listing her cousins and friends and pointing out why they couldn't make it. "…So now what am I supposed to do?"
Melissa cleared her throat. Val looked up from her ranting.
"I have an idea…" said Melissa slowly, dragging it out. Tyler squirmed uncomfortably—he didn't like that look in her eyes…
"What?" Val was equally suspicious.
"Go with Tyler."
"Excuse me?"
"Look at it from Mr. Ito's point of view, okay? This pretty medical student who's already working at the hospital in her free time and is top of her class at UCLA comes in on the arm of a famous, handsome cell phone tycoon. What would you think?"
The proposition was made, and Val was contemplating it, tapping her finger on her chin and looking at Tyler as if she was sizing him up.
"Oh, fine," she sighed, exasperated. "Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"
Tyler nodded, his head acting on it's own, and watched as she walked back into her room.
"Okay," he said slowly, "what in the world just happened?"
Melissa looked positively gleeful. "I just got you a date with Val!"
Tyler just sat there, in a daze, trying to figure what had happened and what was going to happen in the next four or five hours… Meanwhile, Melissa was planning.
"Call Hank, tell him to bring his tux and get over here in the next ten minutes!" Melissa said in a rush. Tyler shook himself awake and dialed Hank's number.
"Hank, I've got a date with Val and forgot to bring a tux…"
Hank was on his way.
I should
have asked for a receipt
I should
have done a double take
'Cause I
can hear my broken heart beat
Tyler waited for Val to come out. It was five to six and the—banquet, he supposed it was called—started at six fifteen.
The door opened. Tyler waited.
And maybe in the meantime he should have taken a breath of air, because once more his head was plunged underwater, his breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't stop to think or know how to react—
She was absolutely gorgeous.
Her blond hair was wound up behind her head with loose golden curls haphazardly falling into her clear blue eyes and across her cheek. The dress was light blue with silvery beads sewn into the fabric, causing it to sparkle as the ends short, blue bead fringe fell two or three inches above her knee, giving him full view of long, tanned legs. The straps were thin and beaded and looked like they had no work, like the dress itself was fitted perfectly to Val's body (which, in Tyler's opinion, it was) and the straps were utterly un-necessary, except to bare her shoulders and arms to the world and his needy eyes.
Val squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.
"Let's go," she suggested to drag his mind off her and to drag her mind off him.
Tyler stood and followed her out the door, closing it behind him with a silent pull, letting it slide neatly into place.
*
"What is that?" Val asked simply, pointing at the black limousine parked in front of the apartment building door. Something told her it was not waiting for one of the other occupants of the building.
"Well," Tyler said, "I thought it would be a good idea to arrive in class. Seeing as you want to make a good impression and all."
Perhaps he shouldn't have chosen those words, because Val was suddenly angry.
"I don't need you to make a good impression for me! I can do it myself, okay? I don't care if you thought William was butting in during high school, but you're the one butting in now! So just leave me alone because I don't care anymore, Tyler! Maybe I don't need you anymore!"
"You never needed me, Val," Tyler pointed out quietly. "You always managed fine yourself."
Val's eyes were wide and confused, and she didn't respond to his inquisitive look.
"I don't need you now, either," she said, "so just let me climb into the car, take me to the banquet, come back, and then walk out, Tyler. Walk out of my life. After all," Val told him, choking on the words as tears threatened to bloom in her eyes, "you seem to have had enough practice with that already."
Tyler didn't answer.
Val climbed into the car, a single tear preceding the others and warning her running slowly down her cheek. Tyler entered after her and he didn't invade her personal space, either, because Val had moved to the other side and looked like she really didn't want to do this anymore.
"Kingsley Manor," Tyler told the
driver in an emotionless voice. Val looked at him through teary eyes as the car
pulled from the curb, and the expression she met was anything but revealing.
Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm rightMaybe there's a reason I can't sleep at nightMaybe I lost, maybe I won
Playing maybe isn't any fun
They were almost there.
"Val?" Tyler asked tentatively, breaking the tensed silence that had interrupted the entire ride.
"Yeah?" Val's voice was soft and unsure.
"Just—don't act cold to me."
"Cold?" Val echoed, puzzled. "Why cold?"
"Because—you've been cold the entire time I've been in LA," Tyler commented quietly, his voice a low whisper that carried through the air that was quickly becoming charged with dry electricity.
"I can't help it, Tyler," Val said, trying not to cry once more, "I can't help it. You just turned up after five years and I'm so lost and my heart is so broken and—Tyler, I still—I mean, I can't have stopped—Tyler, I still lo—"
Her confession was cut short by the car pulling to a halt.
Val's eyes closed momentarily and when they opened, the tears were gone and the emotions had disappeared.
Except nothing ever disappears.
And so Val was left with her impossible feelings and confusion… too much confusion… far too much confusion.
*
The wooden doors were propped open by silver doorstops and looked into a huge ballroom, with French windows that opened onto terraces and balconies, looking over a well-kept garden.
"I never would have thought they had something like this so close to Los Angeles," Tyler commented in a whisper, his voice containing no awe but a certain amount of curiosity with its question already answered.
"It's near the suburbs," Val replied, her fingers gripping his arm as they entered. Oh, she was nervous, even if she tried to hide it.
The room went silent.
Tyler Connell was not an unremarkable person—his face was remembered, especially since it had been plastered on several magazine covers, and not just Forbes and other computer magazines. And then there was the whole issue with the Time article and Isabelle Lerini…
The man excused himself from his discussion partner and crossed the room.
He was stocky, with black hair lightly streaked with gray, revealing that he was in his early sixties. The French cuffs of his shirt were fastened with red diamond cufflinks and edged out exactly an inch from his black suit. He might have seemed intimidating were it not for his friendly smile and wire-rimmed glasses that caused him the appearance of an old, wise man.
"Valerie Lanier, I presume." It was a comment, not a question—of course she was Valerie Lanier. Only one person could be Valerie Lanier. "Edward Ito. And you," he said, directing it to Tyler, "look amazingly similar to Tyler Connell."
"That's me," agreed Tyler with a grin, outstretching his hand. "In the flesh."
"Very honored to meet you, Mr. Connell. And Valerie—I am very honored to meet you, as well. I hear you have straight A's in your medical classes?" His smile grew bigger as his dark eyes invited her to answer.
"Yes," said Val. "Except I do have a B+ in my chemistry class."
"Well, at least you're rounding out your classes," Mr. Ito said, "and a B+ is still very good in chemistry. I was never excellent at history, myself, but I managed to get myself far enough in life. Mr. Connell, I suppose you got good grades in college? And where did you go?" Of course Ito knew where he went—it was advertised enough.
"Relatively good, relatively good," Tyler told him, knowing that overshadowing Val would do no good for either him or her, "but I got a B in English. I went to U of I, by the way."
"Very good as well, then," commented Mr. Ito. "And you have known Valerie a long time?"
"Since high school," Tyler said. He didn't venture into the unknown territory of saying they had dated. "We were on the same EMS squad in Kingsport."
"So you both have some experience with emergency medicine, yes?" He was interested, his curiosity piqued, wanting to know more.
"Yes," Val answered.
"But Val is better than me—I haven't done it for five or six years," explained Tyler, smile still on his face. Mr. Ito looked at Val approvingly.
"Good, good, very good. Well, we will be eating dinner in about fifteen minutes, so be patient while we wait for others. Socialize, if you please. Dinner will be a well-sized meal, three courses and dessert. But small courses, if you please, and you shouldn't be too full. Please excuse me—I see Mr. Russ and I simply must speak to him…" Mr. Ito trailed off and walked over to a portly man standing by the doorway expectantly.
"Thank you," whispered Val. "Thank you for doing that."
"Doing what?" Tyler looked at her innocently.
"Telling him about your B—tearing down your reputation for my career."
"I'd do it again," Tyler informed her in a quiet voice. Val's eyes started to brim with tears—but they would not spill over, not now, not in front of everyone… not in front of Tyler. Tyler's finger gently wiped away the tears, making sure no one saw Val was crying.
"Tyler Connell?"
The finger tapping his shoulder spun him around in surprise, and he was left facing a woman in her thirties with a low-cut red dress adorned with black beads. Her eyes were heavily made up in blue, outlining blue-brown eyes that contrasted platinum blond hair that was pulled into a shiny bun.
"Yes?"
"It is you, then? Amazing! I'm Nathalie Green, and my sister Cornelia is simply dying to meet you! She's only nineteen, you know—but she's very technology-driven and my, does she admire you…"
Val felt a
slight surge of jealousy and spite towards Nathalie, but Tyler would never like
her at all. She wasn't his type, and, besides, Val thought hopefully,
maybe he's still in love with me… but then, I haven't exactly been encouraging
him to love me, have I? So maybe he feels free to like others… but then—he
hasn't shown any interest in others—and Melissa said his heart was broken,
too—oh, God, I'm making this hard for myself. And for him. The reality of
what she had just said hit her. God. Melissa was right.
And she turned and walked towards someone she knew from the hospital—her head was spinning and her mind had no idea what she was going to do—how she was going to take back her words.
This is so hard and I can't
sleep at night
I'm finished; I'm done
I've lost, haven't won
Playing with all these maybes is
just no fun
Tyler watched Val from the corner of his eye as he stood talking to the Platinum Princess Nathalie. Oh, she was nice, but a very large part of him wished he was talking to Val… wished Val felt the same way he did.
But she had said that her heart was broken! Surely that had to mean something. And even though she was cut off in the middle of her sentence, she had probably been saying 'love'… right? Confusing. Tyler turned his attention back to Nathalie.
"And so I said to my father, 'don't buy his phones, there isn't any point in it, buy Connell phones because they're nicer and don't cost as much to maintain and…'"
"Excuse me, it's dinner," interrupted a waiter. "Please be seated."
Tyler sighed with relief and left to find Val.
"Sit next to me," he said into her ear. She flinched slightly with surprise, but nodded, a curl falling from behind her ear into her face. Tyler reached out and brushed it back, but before her gaze had turned to him with puzzlement written on its features, he had dropped his hand and led her to a white-clothed table.
They were next to four others—two couples—that consisted of a Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton and an Amy Richards and a Todd Rainelle, but Tyler couldn't concentrate on the discussions he was having with them, couldn't recall them for his life if you had asked later. He supposed his answers were simple enough, and understandable, but sitting next to Val, he was absorbed in her presence and that detracted attention from the others.
"And so I told my mother, 'No way! Not possible!' and she said…" Mrs. Halliburton was almost as bad as Nathalie. Tyler was about to start talking to Todd and completely forego pretense of listening to her when Mr. Ito stood up, tapped his glass twice with his spoon, and began talking.
And when the host talked, people listened.
"I am very pleased to announce the annual banquet for the Los Angeles hospital, and to mention that we have Tyler Connell here on the arm of Valerie Lanier, top of her class at UCLA.
"Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton are also here, the donors of a large amount of money to help in the Psychology department, and Frederick Wendell, and…" Mr. Ito branched off into a long list of names, and Tyler tuned out, listening with one ear and hearing, but thinking more about how Val had just kicked her leg under the table and it had touched his.
Idiot, he
reprimanded himself. You idiot. Val's over you, remember? She's over you and
now the only thing to do is make sure you're over her…
But Tyler had a feeling he would never be over Val.
Feelings don't disappear.
Tyler sighed with relief as Mr. Ito signaled the end of dinner and waiters came to clear the dishes and bare the white tablecloths. An orchestra struck up out of seemingly empty space, and the black-and-white marble tiled floor was suddenly very good for dancing. About half of the people sat at their tables still, dishes cleared but sipping coffee.
Val took a sip of her coffee, but then replaced it on the table, untouched as the steam gently rose. Tyler's coffee was sitting on the table also—he didn't want it, and no one would dare tell Tyler Connell it was impolite to not sample the host's food. Tyler Connell knew rules of etiquette, and it would lower Mr. Ito's expectations none to see him not drinking.
"Care to dance?" asked Tyler, standing and offering his hand in a mocking way, a smile in his eyes and threatening to tear away at his mouth.
"I—I—," said Val with a stutter, knowing eyes were on her. She smiled weakly. "I'd love to."
He drew her up as was appropriate and placed his hands lightly on her back, weaving his arms around her waist, and before she knew it, her arms were around his neck and her head was involuntarily on his shoulder. The orchestra's jolly minuet magically turned to a slower tempo and Val was forced to stand there, pressed against Tyler like he was her life vest and she was drowning in a tidal wave of emotions.
But then again, she didn't want to part from his arms.
"And if I forgot, would you remind me that everything's okay, and if I wasn't sure would you make it certain I lasted another day, and if maybes never counted do you promise I'd be all right, and maybe I don't trust you but I can't help standing here all night…" Tyler's voice breathed at her ear in the same tune that she had heard that morning on the radio.
"Stop it, Tyler," she said in a sobbing voice as a tear fell onto his jacket. "I don't want to be here, and I don't want to break when you leave, and I don't want to ask myself if maybes are all I can have."
"What if I never left?" he inquired softly. "What if I got rid of all the maybes?"
"You can't," whispered Val, "there are too many. Too many maybes."
Tyler nodded in a resigned way, but didn't leave her until that dance, the next dance, and two more dances were over and she wanted a glass of water.
"I wish there were less maybes," Val said quietly before she unwound herself from him.
"Yes," answered Tyler, "but then it would be far too easy for me."
Far too many maybes
And even if I had a genuine
guarantee
The maybes never cease
Oh… too many maybes
Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm rightMaybe there's a reason I can't sleep at nightMaybe I lost, maybe I won
Playing maybe isn't any fun
Wow. Ten pages. I'm devoted to my writing. Now, please,
tell me that I didn't work this hard for nothing and review! Currently I have
an average of 6.5 reviews per chapter… let's try for 7, or 7.5, or even *gasp*
EIGHT!!! Or—I'll do a CLIFFHANGER next chapter! Or maybe next chapter is the
last. Probably not, if I do an epilogue. Okay, then I won't add another chapter
for a while! *insert evil cackle here* Well, please review anyway and I'll try
to get the next chapter out! Bye!
~Ivy Leaves
