The Only Exception

A loud noise sounded from somewhere behind one of the many bookcases located near the table where Sunday had been working, and she quickly jumped awake. Her eyes burned, protesting to the light from the table lamp. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at the delicate silver watch that her father had bought her for Valentine's Day and realized that it was much latter than she had thought.

She gathered her laptop and books, tossing her empty bag over her shoulder and smiled her goodbye at the librarian. "Have a nice night, sweetie!" the older woman whisper shouted to her as Sunday made her way out into the crisp March night.

With another yawn, she pulled her keys out of her bag and unlocked her car. It was a gift from her grandmother, who had been kind enough to take on the endeavor of teaching Sunday how to drive. It had taken most of February before Sunday felt that she was ready to get her license, but she was finding that she enjoyed being able to go wherever she wanted without having to ask someone.

She dumped her school things and bag on the passenger seat and yawned loudly. It was only eleven o'clock, but she had been at the library since noon studying for a test that she had in her intro to archaeology class.

While her family, Sunday included, had initially been slightly worried about how she would adapt to school, it was soon evident that if Sunday lacked any natural intelligence in her area of study, she made up for it immensely with a drive and eagerness that impressed all of her professors and made her subjects easy for her to excel in. Her grades were spectacular, and she really was happy.

She pulled into the driveway of her father's house forty-five minutes later. There had been slight traffic, as it was a Saturday night, but Sunday was glad that the drive gave her time to wake up. When she parked in the driveway, she took the time to put her things in her bag and was preoccupied with sending a text message to her father that told him she had arrived home as she approached the front door.

She paused when she saw a dark figure stand up on the porch. However, the motion sensor porch light went off a moment later, illuminating the blonde's face. "A-Amber?" she stammered.

Her old friend looked sheepish, and the smile that she gave Sunday was nervous. "Hi," she replied softly. "I just... I was in town, and I've been waiting. For a couple of hours, actually," she explained with a nervous laugh.

Although Sunday was glad to see her friend, she crossed her arms and stopped herself from hugging her or expressing her feelings. "Why?" she demanded.

Amber had the decency to look ashamed. "I miss you, Sunday," she admitted. "And I'm just... I know that I was terrible to you, and Sun, I'm so sorry."

There was a tense moment between them, and finally, Sunday exhaled deeply and crossed to her best friend. For some reason, when they embraced, Sunday realized that Amber was crying, and she found herself laughing. "It's okay, Am," she assured her.

"I don't even know what was wrong with me," Amber sobbed onto Sunday's shoulder. "I was such a bitch to you, Sunday!"

Sunday pulled away but kept an arm around Amber's shoulders as she ushered her friend into the house. "Let's order a pizza or something," she suggested, showing Amber that she had no ill feelings.

While Sunday was excelling at building a life, she had begun to realize that she didn't have many friendships to fill that life with. The professors and teacher's assistants at school loved her, and while Sunday had people that she interacted with during classes, there were no friendships like the ones that she had found with Amber, Jack, Melanie and especially Alex.

"This is nice," Amber noted as Sunday dropped her schoolbag on one of leather chairs in the living room.

"Thanks," Sunday smiled as she grabbed the telephone. Once she had called in the pizza order, she gestured towards the kitchen. "Want anything to drink?"

"Your dad still keep that good wine around?" Amber asked with a laugh.

Sunday smiled. "I'm sure we'll be able to find something," she admitted. She never even thought about the fact that she wasn't yet twenty-one when she did drink alcohol. It felt like she'd never be old enough to keep up with Amber or Alex's habits anyway.

Amber located the large wine glasses, and half an hour later, the two girls were lounging in the living room with a pizza and bottle of wine placed in between them. "So how's Maryland?" Sunday asked conversationally, trying not to wince at the thought of the place.

"Cold and snowy," Amber laughed. "I kind of hate it there, to be honest."

Sunday tried to keep her expression blank as she took another slice of pizza from the box. "Imagine that," she noted.

"You were right," Amber sighed in a whisper. "The only reason I decided to transfer was because... I don't know. I couldn't stand the thought of you and Alex living happily ever after there and me just being left behind in California."

"What happened?" Sunday finally asked. The question had been bothering her for some time, but she had always been a little afraid of the story behind Amber and Alex's hostility towards each other.

Amber refilled her wine glass. "We met in Mexico my freshman year of college," Amber began. "And you know how Alex is. He was charming and fun, and I loved the idea of being with this musician. It was just perfect for the week, until the girlfriend that he had been trying to escape showed up. I believe you've met Charlie as well." They both grimaced.

"She had just cheated on him or something before he went to Mexico with his friends, and I think he was trying to forget her during that week," continued Amber. "He wasn't ready for another relationship, no matter what he said. But I didn't realize that until I was waiting for him at the airport in Baja." She cleared her throat and took a big drink of wine. "It took me four hours to realize he wasn't coming."

"Did you love him?" Sunday asked anxiously. It felt like her heart was trapped in her throat.

Amber laughed and shook her head. "God, no," she declared. "But I was ridiculously jealous when I realized he was so much more interested in you after just a couple of days than after almost two weeks with me."

It made sense to Sunday. As much as she loved Amber, there was no way she could deny that her friend had strong jealousy issues. "So, do you want to talk about what happened?" Amber asked after a moment.

Sunday sighed. "We..." But it seemed nearly impossible for her to find the right words that could adequately describe what they had been, the love that they had had, and what she had lost. "I'm doing okay," she finally shrugged, "I mean, I'm not trying to pretend that it isn't the most painful thing and that I don't miss him in every spare second of time that I have. But I feel like I'm surviving in a way that I couldn't after Henry died."

"It's that bad, huh?" Amber asked. She knew that Sunday wouldn't equate just anything to her beloved older brother's death.

For a moment, Sunday was prepared to just shrug it off. But then she realized that she couldn't spend the rest of her life pretending that it wasn't a big deal. "It is," she nodded, tears blurring her vision. "I loved him more than anything else, but that wasn't enough, and I just can't understand why it wasn't."

The tears began to slip down Sunday's cheeks, and Amber moved the pizza box out of the way so that she could scoot closer and slip an arm around Sunday's shoulders. "Sun," she whispered, leaning her head against Sunday's shoulder.

"I'm fine!" Sunday insisted as she struggled to inhale. "I'm just... not okay." She stood up, shaking Amber off of her and struggling to decide on a location through her tears. "I just need a minute."

She finally rushed up the stairs and locked herself in the bathroom, sliding down against the door and crying into her knees. She was sad, yes, but it felt good to cry. It was just something she needed to do.

Shortly after her tears stopped, there was a knock at the bathroom door. "Sunday?"

She had forgotten that Amber was still there and scrambled to her feet to unlock the bathroom door. "I'm sorry," she said, forcing a smile. "That really hasn't happened before."

Amber pulled her into a hug. "I'm here for you now, Sunday," she said, "I promise."

Sunday hugged her friend back in earnest this time. "Thank you," she sighed. She thought back to the very first time she had met Amber, how much she had always looked up to her friend. For the first time ever, she found herself feeling like Amber's equal, not admirer. It was a good feeling.

"What do you say we watch a movie and call it a night?" Amber suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Sunday smiled. "Grab the wine?"

Amber grinned. "Of course. I'm just going to grab a pair of pajamas out of your room and change, okay?"

Sunday nodded and walked into the office. She sank into the leather chair and sighed, unsure of what she needed to make herself feel better at that moment.

When she finally did make her move, she tried not to think about it too much and let her fingers travel across the keyboard. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she let herself type: Alex Gaskarth.

The Google search was speedy, and Sunday bypassed his Wikipedia and Twitter pages, clicking on the news tab at the top of the search engine. She took a steadying breath as she clicked on the first article and began reading.

It was about Nothing Personal, the record that he had been working on while Sunday knew him. It was March, she realized, and he had been planning to leave in March for their tour. The first couple of shows had been huge successes, she read with a smile, and everyone had high hopes for the album. When Alex spoke about the songs in the article, he sounded so enthused, so happy.

She went back to the Google page and clicked on a new link. It was to a video, and she pressed play before she could help herself.

Alex was on stage, smiling enormously and holding an acoustic guitar. "This is a song off our new record," he began. The crowd cheered, and Alex mocked them for a minute, laughing at their frenzied response. He tweaked his guitar before continuing, "Luckily, this is the first time we'll have played this live, so if I fuck up, no one's going to know."

Her view of Alex blurred as he began singing, and by the end of the song, Sunday was swimming in tears again. The song was heartbreakingly beautiful, and seeing Alex made her miss him so much that it hurt. But more than anything, she was so proud of him. As she scrolled through the comments on the video and saw how many people mentioned how Alex and his band had changed their lives, her heart swelled.

She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and spent a long moment staring at the device. Finally, she couldn't help herself and dialed the familiar number. She felt incredibly tense as the phone rang, and she had no idea what she was even doing. How was she supposed to greet him when he answered? How would he feel about her call?

But all her worrying proved to be for naught when the call was directed to his familiar voicemail. "Hey, this is Alex." Tears burned her eyes at the sound of his voice.

"And Jack!"

"Jack, get the fuck out of here. This is just Alex. Leave me a message and I'll--" She pressed her hand to her mouth, hoping to stifle any sounds that might have captured Amber's attention.

"Suck your--"

"Jack, fuck off! Just leave me a fucking message, and I'll call you back." Her body shook with the unexpressed tears, but she tried to compose herself before the beep ended.

Finally, there was silence on the other end of the phone, and Sunday cleared her throat, trying to force her voice to sound as normal as possible. "Hi," she smiled, "I know that my calling might be kind of weird, but... I heard a new song off the record, and I just had to tell you how proud I am of you, Alex. You're a really wonderful musician, and you change people's lives with your music." She smiled through the fresh tears and added, "Have a great time on tour," before she slammed the phone shut and waited for the sobs to attack her.

But nothing came. No sound, no difficult breathing, not even falling tears. They seemed to dissipate in her eyes, and Sunday felt surprisingly level headed and calm.

"Sun?" Amber called. "Are you ready? I found some Disney movies!"

"Coming," she called absentmindedly. For a long moment, she stared at her cell phone, debating whether she should take it to bed with her. She thought it was unlikely that Alex would return her call, and while she desperately wanted to talk to him again, maybe it was better if their communication was limited to voicemails.

She set the phone face down and vacated the computer chair. Once the door to the office was shut behind her, she meandered to her bedroom and found Amber already laying in bed. "What are the options?" she asked as she dug through her dresser drawers for a pair of pajamas.

"Aladdin, Fox and the Hound, or Pocahontas," Amber announced.

Sunday paused for a moment, a soft smile taking over her face as she thought about the last time she had watched Pocahontas. For a moment, she could almost feel Alex's arms around her, and she let herself revel in the moment. "Pocahontas," she requested.

Once she was clad in her pajamas, she climbed into bed next to Amber and let herself get caught up in the movie. She pointed out her favorite parts, quoted several scenes, teared up when John Smith was captured by Pocahontas' tribe, and cried at the end of the movie when John Smith left to go back to England without Pocahontas.

For a moment, she felt like she was back with Alex. And it gave her a strange sense of being home that she missed desperately when the movie ended and the familiar memory of Maryland passed.

Pepe jumped onto the bed, obviously aware of Sunday's renewed distress. She smiled at her closest friend, patted the spot next to her in bed and smiled when he laid down beside her. She pressed her eyes shut to keep out the sad feelings and cuddled into his soft fur, eager to fall into a dreamless sleep where she could forget all about Alex.

When she checked her phone the following morning, she discovered that he hadn't returned her call. After a week, she stopped checking.