Silent Plea

Dear Arden,

I saw you the other night, at the club. You sang, and you sang beautifully just like you always did. It felt good to hear your voice again, and to see you. It’s been a while and I miss you, my dear friend. But it was a bit weird. Something’s different.

I can see it. You are different - and things have changed, I know. But there was something different that made me... sad when I saw you. Your eyes, they’re... different. Lifeless, but perhaps that’s too strong of a word to use. They lack something. You’re not happy. And it worries me. You... don't look your best, I’ll be honest. What’s happened? What’s going on?

And then I saw you after your set... I was going to say hi but you went straight to this group of people... You didn’t seem to know them. You had a few too many drinks with them, and you let some guy publicly grope you - and what bothered me is that I saw it clearly on your face that you didn’t want it. You’ve always said you would never let any man do that to you, or even come close to treating you like some object. So what happened there? What happened to you?

This isn’t the Arden Taylor we knew. This is someone far more pathetic.

John leaned back in his chair, slumping down as he twirled the pen around his fingers. He tried to organize his thoughts, racking through his brain for anything else he might’ve wanted to get down, but his thoughts were just everywhere. Scattered about, flying in and out of his head, he couldn’t keep up with them.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her since that night. He couldn’t get her face out of his mind. Those blue eyes, her smile; those days when he still had her next to him. He kept picturing how it would be if they spoke again, what they would say, what they would do, if it would be awkward. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t want to pick up the phone at that very moment and dial her old number.

Shaking his head, he set the pen down with a sigh and tore the sheet of paper out of its notebook. He stood up and folded up the note, sticking it inside the pocket of his jeans before he turned off his small desk lamp. There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many words that he couldn’t even form the right sentences to express exactly what he felt. But he supposed it wouldn’t matter and scrawled out the words as they came anyway. It wasn’t like he would give her the letter anyway - like anyone was ever going to read it. It was too... Harsh, too blunt. He would never tell those things to her.

.

John stepped out of his room and eased the door shut behind him before he walked down the hall, slowly and taking his time. He stuck his hands in his pockets, a hand wrapped tightly around the folded note in his pocket. He went out to the living room and leaned against the doorframe, watching as his friends gathered around his TV, yelling and cursing at the video game. Shaking his head, he continued on into his kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, taking another moment to himself. He leaned against the counter, staring out to the living room as he raised the bottle to his lips.

How was he going to approach this, how was he going to ask them? It wasn’t a big deal, but he was a bit wary of what their answers might be - especially after how Kennedy had reacted that night.

He went back out to the living room and sat down on the couch next to Kennedy, his arm resting on the back of the couch. He drummed his fingers, waiting for the perfect pause to slip the question in. That perfect pause came when Garrett threw his controller down in defeat, and Jared raised his fists in triumph.

“That was dirty. I call a rematch!” Garrett cried, grabbing his beer bottle.

“It was a fair match, suck it up!” Jared laughed, laying back and sprawling across the floor. Garrett mimicked him, taking a sip before he started a new game.

John chuckled, shaking his head before he cleared his throat. “So, you guys...” he started, a bit nervously. “I was thinking of calling this girl...” This got their attention, especially Kennedy’s, who turned his head towards him with a crooked smile.

“A girl?” Kennedy laughed. “When did you meet her and where the hell was I as wingman?”

“You were there,” John replied nonchalantly, taking a drink from his bottle. “I met her a while ago...”

“Who is she?” Pat asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Arden.” Immediately, he saw Kennedy frown and shake his head disapprovingly, while Pat and Garrett held looks of confusion. “The girl from the club the other night- the one who san--”

“That two-timing bitch from high school,” Kennedy interrupted with a roll of his eyes, and instantly, a look of realization crossed Garrett and Pat’s faces. There was only one girl that John was serious about who had cheated on him, only one girl who ever truly stuck in his mind - but he had stopped talking about her long ago, and she slipped from everyone’s mind. “Now John, why the hell would you go back to her--”

“Kennedy, don’t,” John sighed. Kennedy, of all of his friends, had the most right to hate her. But John couldn’t. No matter what had happened, how it all happened, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. “I just want to--”

“No. You’re not going to be stupid and go back and let her have you wrapped around her finger.” Kennedy pointed. “You’re better than that. You don’t need her.”

“Will you let me talk?” John spoke, exasperated. “I’m not going to ‘go back to her.’” He rolled his green eyes, shaking his head. “I just want to... talk to her, see how she’s doing. I mean, you saw what she looked like!” He was too nice and too caring. He wasn’t going to be that asshole of an ex-boyfriend. Who says you can’t mend a broken friendship?

“Yeah, we all did, and it’s her own damn fault for whatever shit she does to herself.”

“But I just-” He can’t just forget about it like that. “Okay, you’re right. It’d be a stupid move to call her.” John stood up with a subtle look of sadness. Kennedy was never going to accept it, and that’s just the way things will be with him. But not with John.

“You’re going to call her,” Jared stated as John walked by him.

“What- John.” Kennedy frowned when he realized that Jared was right. John was going to call her, no matter how much he went against it. “You’re better off without her.”

“That may be so.” John shrugged with his hands in his pockets. “But I’m not an asshole; I’m still allowed to check up on her. Something’s wrong and I’m going to find out.” He left it at that, and walked out of the house.