Tell Me What to Do, I Messed up on You

I suppose now, looking back at that summer I first met John, I don't really look back with a lot of regret or hate. There are no ill-feelings. In fact, there aren't any feelings at all. According to psychology, when something traumatizes us enough, we simply block it out so as to not have to dwell on it anymore. It's not to say that John wasn't in my head, it was just that he was in a box that was in a closet, in a hidden room of a secret passageway in an area of my psyche that I chose not to wander into these days.

Every now and then a video of The Maine would creep up on the "Suggestions" of my YouTube page. I'd just listen and tap my feet to the beat. I did keep up with his band and their progress, after all, being an artist myself I am able to separate the individual from his art. I can appreciate beauty even if it's creator all but ruined me.

However, it would be highly dramatic and over-the-top of me to say that I still think about that summer. My life turned around a year ago, after I graduated from FIT in the city and started a company of my own, with my best friend, Jimmy. I met Jimmy within the first month of college and we immediately knew that we wanted to start a venture together, he had that enthusiastic, ambitious nature and coupled with my realism and understanding of business, we knew it would work out. So he double majored in Fashion Design and Fabric Styling and I majored in Accessories Design and Jewelry Design. Fast forwarding over four years of glitter, sweat, tears, exhaustion, sleep deprivation and unimaginable deadlines, we were out in the real world with nothing but our dream to keep us going.

For about four months we lived in a dingy apartment, and pulled out every contact we had in order to find a workspace. We already had all our designs in place, we simply needed space to sell the objects. With a start-up loan from my father (who was never able to give me much except money from day one) and a few good friends in the right places, we found a nice little nook downtown. It took us about six months from then on out to set up the shop, complete with interior design, the hoarding, making business cards, abusing manufacturers to create our products, the whole deal. During this time, both Jimmy and I worked odd jobs around the city as bartenders by night and baristas by day to fuel our project and keep a roof over our heads.

Eleven months after leaving fashion school, our baby was complete: Eos Inc. It was a small, independent boutique with custom designs of clothes, handbags, and jewelry. All the jewelry was designed by me and all the clothes by Jimmy. Occasionally, we switched roles but always came back to what we were good at. The first month of Eos was horrible. We barely had any customers, and the few that came in sauntered right out. That was when, for the first time, we were full of doubt. Would this work? Can this really be? How dumb were we to think we could do this?

However, it was only a matter of time before word spread about the cute little bohemian boutique that sold reasonably-priced jewelry and had "stinkin' adorable" maxi dresses. People began to take a liking to us, and though we seemed to have a very niche type of clientele, we were completely fine with that.

Jimmy and I still live together, although the apartment isn't quiet as crappy anymore. It was a cozy two-bedroom pad with decent-sized rooms with attached bathrooms, a tiny kitchenette and makeshift drawing room. At almost all times, the drawing room was a tornado of fabrics, tiny trinkets and Jimmy's blueprints of outfits strewn across our wooden coffee table. He had two dress forms that almost always had a half-finished outfit draped over them, and they usually gave me a good idea of what was going through his head, fashion-wise.

I had a tiny back-room in our store itself, because I needed lots of tools and equipment for creating the jewelry. Which is why I could usually be found in the shabby back room, hours after the store had closed and Jimmy and our two other employees, Stephanie and Chloe, had left.

Tonight was no exception, I was in my workspace working on some wooden tribal necklaces. Carving them out was slightly tedious and time-consuming, though I really enjoyed working with wood for some reason. My neck began to tense up because I had been slouched over the desk for at least 3 hours. Just as I was stretching it out, my phone began to buzz, it was Jimmy.

"Yeah?" I called, answering, slightly annoyed to be disturbed when I was in the zone.

"Woman, you need to take it easy with the screwdriver, get your ass home! Did you forget tonight was our Audrey Hepburn and cupcakes night?" he snapped, and I mentally pictured him, hand on his hip, tapping his foot furiously.

I felt bad, it had completely slipped my mind. I was so lucky that I was in the city, because there's no way you can procure cupcakes at 11:30 in the night anywhere else.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologized, hurriedly scurrying to put away my tools, grab my bag and the store keys. As I ran around turning on the security system, and locking the store up, I said "I'll be home in seven minutes, count it down."

"I started my timer," he said, dryly. "And don't even bother coming through that door sans a box of red velvet cupcakes!"

Jimmy never took our Audrey nights lightly, and I felt really horrible for forgetting about it entirely. I was done locking up the store, I hung up the phone and shoved it into my bag and hauled ass to the closest bakery.

I rushed in, vaguely eyeing a group of boys huddled at the entrance, I ignored them and went up to the counter because I had no time for standing in a line.

"Hi, could I get a half dozen red velvet cupcakes, 2 walnut brownies, a strong black coffee and a chai latte, please?" I asked the cranky guy behind the counter, who, from the look on his face had obviously been working a long shift.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, uninterestedly as he pulled a box out and started putting the baked wonders into it.

As I was waiting a voice behind me called, "Someone's got the midnight munchies."

I turned around to see a face I thought I knew, or might have known in another life. It took me several seconds to realize who it was and by the time I did, the guy behind the counter called out to me.

"That'll be $21.99, ma'am."

I nodded at him and looked back around to the matured, fully formed face of Kennedy Brock, my former neighbor and saving grace in high school.

"Kenny?" I called, stupidly, even though it was obviously him.

He nodded and pulled me into a really tight bear-hug, kissing the top of my head like he used to. He was wearing a zip-up black hoodie and smelled musky and cozy, some things never change.

"Rosie..." he whispered into my hair, "It's been so long..."

"Almost four years, to be precise," I mumbled into his shirt, glad he couldn't see my eyes welling up.

"Uhh, ma'am, we close in five minutes," the moron behind the counter called out.

"Just a sec," I said, looking up at Kennedy, unconsciously gripping his hoodie tightly, as if he would disappear if I didn't hold on to him. He nodded, I went up and slammed twenty five dollars on the counter, grabbed the drinks and box and turned back to face Kennedy. Only then did I realize that he wasn't alone, behind him I saw the sheepish faces of Garrett, Jared, Pat, Max and finally, John, who seemed to have found a new life in the tiles on the floor.

They already had their treats and were on their way out it seemed, and since the moron wanted so badly to close up the store, we left the bakery. I went around and hugged all the guys, John included, and we said our strained "hello's" and "how do you do's" to each other.

Once that bull shit was done, I turned my attention back to Kennedy. I never quite realized how much I missed him...he was my first true friend.

Amidst random snippets of conversation, as we were both excitedly throwing information at each other about how much our lives had changed over the last four years, I remembered Jimmy.

Deciding to hit two birds with one stone, I asked Kenny, "Hey, how long are y'all in New York for?"

"About two days, I think. Why?"

I smiled widely. "Well, why don't you all crash at my place?" I offered, never realizing in my happy stupor that all that would do was open old wounds all over again.