On The Line

Now I’m on a plane. Erik had bought me a ticket, paid through the nose since it was so last minute, for a 9 a.m. flight. After not getting off the phone until nearly four in the morning, I hadn’t had time to sleep. I had to pack, eat and get to the airport. I was trying my hardest to keep my mind off what Erik told me, but it was just no use. How can he drop a bomb like that on me and then refuse to give me any details until I land in Ottawa?

I had never felt so upset for another person before. The boy had gotten left by his fiancé. His future wife did not want a future with him anymore. How can someone just do that to another person? I would never be able to break someone like that; I wouldn’t have it in me.

The flight was relatively short; only about an hour and a half. But it was the longest hour and a half of my life. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what happened between Erik and his fiancé. She never particularly liked me. He had only been dating her for a couple of months before I met him so when Erik and I became instant friends, she thought of me as a threat. Even after Erik got more serious with her and was never more than friends with me, she was still uncomfortable with me on the rare occasion that we spent time together.

Upon landing in Ottawa, I was ambushed and nearly tackled to the ground if I had not miraculously stabilized myself. I barely got a glimpse of my attacker before they capture me in an overwhelming hug. The flow of dirty blonde hair that had covered my face and blinded my vision meant that it could only be one person. Erik.

Letting go of my bags, hearing them land of the floor with a thud, I wrapped my arms around his torso and returned the hug. He began to whisper in my ear in Swedish. It did not really matter to me that I had no idea what he was saying, I was just happy to be with him again.

“I missed you, Erik,” I told him and released my hold on him but he made no movement to letting me go. His lips hesitantly brushed against my temple, as if he was considering kissing it like he usually did when either of us was upset, but then he decided against it. It was too soon after his breakup to kiss anyone else, even if it was a simple comforting gesture between best friends. My heart began to slightly ache because of how torn up he was. I could feel his hot breath on my face when he let out a depressed sigh and finally let me out of his grasp.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and gave it a comforting squeeze to let him know that there was nothing that could keep me away when he needed me. He gave me a light smile in return. His smile might have shown that he was okay, but I saw in his eyes that he had completely fallen apart inside.

“Let’s get out of here,” I stated and let go of his wrist but continued to smile at him in an attempt to make him feel better. “You hungry?” He nodded and bent over to pick up my luggage before making his way to the exit that led to the parking lot. “I can get those, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Beck,” he retorted and pushed the door open with his shoulder. Once the frigid Ottawa air hit me, I did not push the matter any further. My hands cried out for permanent residence in my coat pockets; if his hands wanted to freeze while carrying my bags, more power to him.

*~*~*~*~*

Lunch was simple, filled with small talk. I did not want to bombard Erik with questions about his current predicament that brought me home to Ottawa. I decided that he would talk to me when he was ready; probably in a much more private setting with no fear of passersby overhearing. After lunch, Erik drove me to my parents’ house so I could drop off my bags and talk with them a bit. Erik had insisted that I stay with him during my stay, but I would not have it. My family would be mad at me if I came home and did not spend any time with them. Plus, I did not want to impede on him more so than I already was.

“It is always a pleasure to have you home, dear,” my mother sarcastically commented with a roll of her eyes. As soon as Erik and I entered the house I lived in only six months ago, I curtly greeted my parents as I made a beeline to the kitchen. It made zero difference that I had just finished lunch ten minutes earlier. My stomach always craved my mom’s home-baked cookies that covered the selves in the snack cupboard.

“Always a pleasure to have you home, dear,” I repeated in a high-pitched, mocking voice as half eaten cookie crumbs flew out of my house. My mother placed her hand under my jaw and pressed it upward, closing my mouth, silently telling me not to speak with my mouth full.

“I would happily take this bundle of joy off your hands for the week, Mrs. Seefer,” Erik offered. He was standing behind me with his hands on my shoulder, holding on to them tightly and shaking playfully. It was the first time he made a joke since I arrived. The smile on his face did not seem forced or pushed. A smile appeared on my face at the mere thought of him forgetting about his heartbreak, if only for a moment.

“We wouldn’t do that to you, Erik,” my father replied. “We don’t want her eating you out of house and home too.”

*~*~*~*~*

Erik and I left my parents’ house after about an hour and went to his apartment. It was one of those odd weeks when the Senators played Wednesday night instead of Tuesday, so we decided to have a movie night and order in a pizza later. The movie list for the night was light and fluffy. We agreed that we were in the mood for a comedy instead of a drama or action, but I was secretly afraid that he would go into a downward spiral if we watched anything with a romantic plotline in it.

We were sprawled out on the couch – he was sitting up right with his arms rested on the back of the couch and on the armrest and his feet were on the coffee table; I was laying on my back, stretched across the entire couch, with my feet rested in on his lap – when he finally said something of real significance.

“I didn’t really know how to react when you left, you know,” he started out of nowhere. Not bothering to look at me, his stare remained on the TV and his face was expressionless. I hated when he bottled up like this, it made him so much harder to read. “I wasn’t mad at you for going or anything like that. I knew you were going, but nothing can prepare someone for losing their best friend.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

“Maybe I talked about you too much,” he continued, ignoring my comment. “That has to be it. She never liked hearing about you, no offense.” I knew he was talking about his fiancé…ex-fiancé. “I always tried to play it off and tell you that she didn’t have a problem with you, but she always did.”

“Don’t worry, I never believed you anyway. I knew she didn’t like me,” I chuckled in response, trying to lighten the mood. Erik turned his head to look at me with no sign of amusement on his face. There was not even a twitch at the corn of his mouth to show he was holding back a smirk.

“Every conversation I had with her eventually turned into me talking about you; about some memory that came to my mind that day or about how much I missed you,” he mindlessly started to babble and looked back in the direction of the TV.

“Are you sure you missed me? We never talked while I was in Boston.” Erik and I talked on the phone for about a week when I first moved to Boston for school. Phone calls became few and far apart before becoming nonexistent completely and I never really understood why. His head snapped to look at me and his emotionless wall came crumbling down. I could see hurt in his eyes after I accused him of not caring about me.

“Of course I missed you! Talking to you on the phone just hurt more than it helped.” I completely understood where he was coming from. It was nice to keep each other updated on our lives, but it quickly became exhausting to only hear the other’s voice instead of being about to actually see and interact the way we used to. “I missed you more than I have ever missed anyone.”

“Did you say that to her?” I questioned. I continued to refer to his ex-fiancé as ‘her’ because I feared what the mention of her name would do to him. Erik dipped his head to show he was ashamed and nodded. “Oh, Erik.”

“She became furious with me that night.”

“Of course she did, Erik. How else did you think she would react?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Beck!” he angrily exclaimed, pushing my feet off of him and standing up. He began to pace around the living room the way he always did when he was frustrated. “You think I meant to tell my fiancé that I missed another girl more than I ever missed her? Yeah, Rebecca, I totally went into that conversation with the intension of hurting the girl I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. It just slipped out!”

I did not know how to respond to that. I could comfort him when he was upset after losing a hockey game or when he was worried about having a concussion after taking a rough hit. I was never good at being able to calm him down when he was angry. Everything I said had a tendency to make him more fired up.

“She accused me of being in love with you. Can you believe that? She was never the jealous type; she could handle the hundred of girls that fawn over me at signings and stuff but she was always so jealous of you.” The conversation had taken an awkward turn. There was never anything more than friendship between Erik and I, and the fact that his fiancé thought there was was offsetting. Of course I thought about the possibility of being something more than just friends with Erik; I would be a boldfaced liar if I said otherwise, but there were no real romantic feelings behind my thoughts.

“I should get out of here,” I stated as I pushed myself off the couch and started to make my way to the door, grabbing my coat in the process. Nothing good ever came from me sticking in my two cents when he was angry like this.

“Don’t be like this, Rebecca. Stop running at the slightest glimpse of a problem,” he huffed aggressively.

“I can’t be around you when you are like this, Erik. I will just make it worse.”

“No…no…I’m sorry.”

It was like all the anger instantly drained from his body and left behind a weak and upset man. I just stood by the door and watched as he made his way over to the couch and sat back down in the same spot he occupied before. With his elbows rested on his knees, he held his head in his hands as if contemplating what the next words out of his mouth would be.

“Stay with me. Please.”