She's the Ash

Chapter 5: Completing

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Minutes passed, and we were still staring. The look of shock had not left Craig's face, even though his jaw had finally closed. My own lips were still parted from my greeting, and my mind was blank save for one thought – three little words – that kept swirling round and round my brain.

Eventually, though, one of us would have to break the silence. The sound of a car horn shook him out of his daze a few moments later and he took a step forward, his look softening from one of shock into one of wonder.

"What are you doing here?" he asked softly.

"I won the contest," I reminded him, my voice just as soft as his. And idea occurred to me; I pulled his CD out of my purse.

"Would you sign it?"

He blinked. "Why would you want my autograph?"

I didn't know how to answer his question. How was I supposed to tell him that I wanted a physical piece of him to keep forever, when he was out on tour and meeting girls and doing everything I couldn't while I was at NYU? How was I supposed to tell him that I needed to see his messy handwriting printing my name, writing that he loved me with permanent ink?

I wouldn't believe that he loved me until he said it with just that degree of permanence, and he wouldn't understand that.

I cleared my throat, and said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Isn't that what a fan should ask?"

His eyes narrowed.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Of course. What was I expecting?" he muttered crossly under his breath. He went to sit.

"Wait," I said, stopping him with a motion of my hand. "What was that?"

He looked at me, a look of faux innocence on his face.

"Oh, nothing, Ashley. You just came because you won a contest, because you wanted some memorabilia from a singer who means nothing to you."

My heart sank; this is not was I had fantasized about at all. He was completely misunderstanding me, and I needed to explain myself.

"No, Craig, that isn't it at all! I-"

"Did you even listen to the album, Ashley?" he interrupted, the words spat as they burst from his mouth.

On his face was a look so raw that it cut me to the core, my heart flailing as I finally understood just how much I had hurt him when I had left for London. The album was his catharsis, his release of all that pain, and the idea of me not even understanding his soul's cries and pain was devastating. His eyes were wide and glassy, the creases around his eyes expressing the pain he had managed to hide for years quite eloquently.

I almost tried to rationalize; I almost allowed myself to quibble and ramble, my overly cautious way of acting around him bubbling close to the surface. I almost let myself treat him like a patient, or a child, no like the man I loved.

Almost.

But I threw caution to the wind, if only for a moment, and finally spoke to him like I felt about him: like I adored him.

"Yes, Craig, I did- and I thought it was brilliant, the best music I've heard in years. It couldn't have showcased your talents more. I love it."

I placed extra emphasis on the 'loved' and his eyes widened slightly. I guess that he was disappointed that I hadn't called him, that I hadn't leapt into his arms when he entered the tent, and that I hadn't told him that I loved him too. He was such an enigma to me now; I didn't trust myself to know what was going on inside of his head, even though my intuition was telling me to just go over and hug him. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to face any disappointment. I knew he needed to hear it, but I found that I couldn't say what I needed o say, no matter how many times I had repeated 'I love you' in my mind.

I had always been able to tell him anything0 except when it involved him and I.

"You loved it," he parroted, his expression now stony. "Anything in particular that stuck out?"

I nodded slowly. He trying to get me to give him the answers he wanted, and I couldn't continue to avoid giving them to him.

"She's the Ash," I whispered.

He nodded in turn, still expecting something more. I internally prodded myself, my heart now ignoring the admonishments of caution from my head.

"And your 'thank you'"

He froze, his eyes now looking at his shoes, still waiting for what I assumed he wanted to hear. He poured his entire heart into that album, and I will not break it again.

I coughed, coaxing his eyes to look back up into mine I set my shoulders and mentally prepared myself for the rejection or denial that I was sure to follow. Even after seeing his face and hearing what Don said, even after assuming that this was what he wanted to hear, I still was utterly convinced that I deserved – and would received – none of this wonderful, talented man's love. But I couldn't wait to tell him any longer.

"I love you too."

His face relaxed, the stony expression on his face eased into an almost smile, but his eyes remained wary.

"What?" he asked, as if not sure of what he had heard.

"I love you. I still love you, always have loved you. I couldn't stand to be away from you, and no one else could ever replace you."

The words poured out of my mouth as my heart finally managed to wrest complete control; the flowed like a river, the current of phrases and words unstoppable now that it had been undimmed.

"I absolutely understand if you don't feel that way anymore; it's been months since 'Of Two Minds" came out and I never listened until now, too stubborn to listen and acknowledge that I was being stupid. I only bought the CD two days ago and I won the contest, and I knew that I had to come, no matter if you loved me still or not. I needed to know, for sure."

The look on his face was now unreadable, and not filled with the happiness and love I had wanted to see. Instead, I knew what that face meant: the rejection I had expected.

I was right. He doesn't. I'm just…song fodder now. I'm nothing, just like Manny and Ellie.

"Oh," I gasped, a heavy weight settling on to my chest. Oh, right."

Tears pricked at my eyes and I felt my lower lip tremble as I dropped my gaze to my feet. The CD fell from my limp grasp and hit the floor. The sound caused my body to go into autopilot; my mind still reeling, trying to grasp the fact that my own stupidity had made me too late. I was flying apart at the seams, and while my body gathered my belongings while Craig looked on, I was desperately trying to hold myself together.

"Right," I said again, mumbling and numb, my breathing coming in little gasps that I hoped weren't audible. I was trying to hurry; I would be hyperventilating soon, and I didn't want to embarrass myself further. "I'll just- I guess- um, it was nice seeing you again, Craig. Good luck … with everything."

I refused to look as him as I strode as fast as I could out of the tent, but I couldn't resist one look back at him, telling myself that it was only because I wanted to be polite and say goodbye. He was still standing there, immobilized, and still giving me that unreadable look.

"Bye, I choked out, and I left the tent.

The tears started falling then and I broke into a run. Just go, Ashley. Get away.

After a few minutes, I found myself at the train station, chest heaving and mind racing. I didn't know when the next train was; I hadn't planned on taking anything before two o'clock, stupid as I was. Still, my mind couldn't focus on even my current predicament. What was I going to do? I couldn't go to New York City now and find some other guy; I couldn't pretend to be okay without him.

My heart was breaking into thousand of tiny pieces as I stood in that train station, trying to create an image of my future without Craig. I was tired of pretending, but-

"Ashley!" yelled a breathless voice, a voice too familiar. It couldn't be him.

I ignored whoever was calling and looked up at the schedule on the wall, trying o find the next train home, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

I felt a tingle run to my hands, and my skin felt as it if was on fire, the flames licking body with a warmth that both soothed and excited me, giving me a strange and beautiful dichotomy of sensations that was irresistible and addictive. I turned to look at the owner of that hand – the only man who could ever make me feel that way – who was looking at me with a mixture of concern and happiness.

"Ashley," breathed Craig, his eyes following the tears that were still running down my cheeks. "Ashley, why'd you run away?"

I shrugged as I composed myself, gathering my dignity about me.

"You know the answer to that, Craig."

He looked confused.

"Why would I be asking if I already know?" Still, he was jovial, even happy.

I felt myself bristle; first, I was too late and now he wanted to tease me about it. Ellie's tale of his manipulation of her feelings for him echoed in my head as I erupted, my shame and embarrassment fueling the fire.

"What, Craig? You want me to say that too, just so you can hear it again, after I already embarrassed myself? Fine, Craig, I'll tell you. I ran because I traveled all this way and had all this hope, but I was too late. Everything you said doesn't matter, because I was too late and you don't love me anymore. I'm not your inspiration, and I made the biggest mistake of my life by running to England and now I don't have any choice but to run again."

I blinked; the tears had stopped, but I was shaking. I shook y head, trying to clear it, and in doing so couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my lips.

He moved so fast that I didn't have time to react his arms wrapped around me and pulled me flush against him. My head rested in the crook of his neck, and I was able to smell his cologne, an intoxicating mix of musk and pine that left me muddled. Why do I want him so much?

One of his hands moved from the middle of my back and wrapped it in my hair.

"It's so long," he whispered.

It was my turn to be confused; what the hell was he doing? I had just yelled at him, and his response was to pull me into a hug.

"Craig," I began, but he shushed me before I could tear into him.

"Sh, please, just for a minute so I can explain." He pulled back now, creating about a foot of space in between us, and tried to look me in the eye. "Do you promise not to run away again?"

I nodded, my eyes once again on my shoes, still very much embarrassed and my anger slowly draining

"Look at me, Ashley."

I pulled my head up slowly, and as I did he moved his hands up to my shoulders. His gaze never wavered from my face, and he smiled at me as my eyes locked with his.

"Don't look so sad, Ash."

I gave him an incredulous look, and he threw back his head and laughed. What the…

Is he off his meds?

"Oh, that's my Ashley. That's a look I've missed, the 'Craig's crazy' look that only you are allowed to give me."

As he stopped laughing, he noticed that I was still very much confused. Why had he followed me; why was he not embarrassed by me and my proclamation of unrequited love? And why was he laughing with me like this?

His look softened. "You don't understand, do you?"

I only dared to shake my head as I felt involuntary tears prick at my eyes again. Why is he torturing me?

"Oh, Ashley," he murmured, pulling me to him again. "Don't you get it?"

And, an instant later, he had pulled me into a kiss. My entire body felt once again as if it were on fire. I was warm and felt as if I was glowing. I heard a song in the back of my head, its melody beautiful and perfectly matched with the beating of my heart. This is what kissing Craig always felt like; this is what it was missing.

He completed me the music alone confirmed that.

But he pulled away before the kiss could deepen.

"Don't you dare tell me that I don't still love you," he warned, his eyes twinkling. "You have always, always, always been everything to me, and not answering for a few months could never compare to you leaving me for England. I loved you through that; I loved you through this."

Finally, I smiled at him, looking up at him through my lashes. I had never felt so happy, and had never felt so wanted in my life.

"Really?"

He kissed my forehead. "Really."

He tugged at a lock of my hair, winding it between his fingers again.

" I still can't believe you're here."

"And I'm yours," I added, entwining my fingers with those of his free hand. "That is, if you want that."

"Are you kidding? I want it more than anything; what do you think I wrote 'She's the Ash' for? I wanted you back." He paused. "But what bout Jimmy."

I shrugged. "We broke up 3 days ago."

"Wait. Am I just some rebound, then?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. He opened his mouth to continue, obviously hurt, but I cut him off.

"No, no, no- never, Craig"

And I explained everything: how Jimmy and I had gotten together, with me feeling sorry for him and realizing that Craig was dating Manny again; how Jimmy and I had never really clicked; how Craig's album debuting had sparked my own inspiration and songwriting; how deleting Jimmy's track off of my song made me feel like I had finally stepped out of his and Jimmy's shadows; and how Jimmy had called me his crutch. We sat in that train station and talked for two hours, with only a few people departing or arriving.

We talked about London, Manny, Ellie, and Ali; he told me how he felt when I left, and I talked about how coming back to find him gone and off with Manny felt.

He kept touching me in small ways as we sat on the hard plastic chairs; he would brush the hair from my eyes, marveling still at its length ('Oh, do you want me to cut it?" I had asked, and he had emphatically shook his head 'no': "It makes you look even prettier than I remembered."), or rubbing my arm, or stroking my hand with his thumb.

"I want to make sure you're real, and that I am not going to wake up in a few minutes feeling horribly disappointed," he'd explained when I asked why. I'd kissed him hard for that, and laughed as I proceeded to playfully pinch him.

"Okay, I'm not dreaming. Ow," he responded while ruefully rubbing his arm.

Around two o'clock, we heard a panicked voice yelling; soon after, Don had run into the train station, calling for his client.

Craig let go of one of my hands – he had been holding them both – and called down to Don. He came jogging up, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Manning! What the hell, dude- where were you? And why weren't you answering your damn cell phone?"

Craig sheepishly took his cell phone out of his pocket. "Silent," he replied, sheepishly.

Don rolled his eyes.

"Anne and I have only been searching for you all over this empty town for the past two hours; is this where you've been the whole time since you ran off?"

Craig nodded, a grin now spreading across his face as he grasped my other hand again. Don looked down at our hands, and his eyes widened.

"Craig- and, who- what?"

Craig stood, and I followed.

"Don, this is Ashley Kerwin."

"yea, I know who she is, she won the con- wait a minute. Ashley- this is your Ashley? She found you?"

Craig, if possible, grinned wider and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Yep, she found me."

"Oh, thank God," Don sighed, and he took my now free hand from Craig's, shaking it vigorously. "I'm so happy to meet you; now Craig can write emo songs about something else."

I laughed, Craig blushed, and I felt complete. Life was finally right; it was finally perfect.