Bleed My Heart Out

I sat on the porch of my girlfriend, Riley’s, ocean front house in Santa Monica. The sun had started setting, and I was alone in the house. I rubbed my eyes, contemplating going to bed before she got home. She was studying late at the university, and when she said late, she meant it. She didn’t get home until 11 o’clock the night before. Truthfully, I was just exhausted. I chalked it up to my body adjusting to the move, but it had already been a couple weeks and I still wasn’t sleeping properly at night. I closed my eyes and flashed back to two weeks ago, when I told Taylor that I was moving. The look in his eyes told me that he was heartbroken. That look never left my mind. It made me sad. He was my best friend, and to leave him like that kind of stung. I couldn’t imagine how it made him feel. I mean, we played together so well. The chemistry we had was indescribable, not only on the ice, but off of the ice as well. I sighed heavily, trying not to cry. I had been fighting this for so long already. I never was one to show my feelings, not even on the ice. I mean, I loved Riley so much, but things were different now.

I had known her since grade 10; dated her since grade 12. Being 22, people were surprised we weren’t engaged already. Both of us thought that we were a little young, but the rest of the world didn’t. A lot had happened in those seven years. I mean, Riley’s life hadn’t been all peaches and cream. When I met her, she had just lost her parents and moved away from her childhood best friend. A lot of other things happened between meeting her and asking her out, all of them bringing us closer. But ever since my rookie year, things were different. She moved out to California for university, she was in medical school. She was a hard worker, and the sweetest girl I ever knew. I loved her so much, but this situation with Taylor kept nagging me at the back of my mind. I knew it wasn’t homesickness, I never got homesick. I really missed him, and I mean really. When Riley moved, I missed her, but not to the point where I was physically ill. There was something going on. I looked at the table and noticed that Riley had left one of her notebooks there with a pen. She had come home for lunch, and was writing some notes with me. I turned to the back of the book and ripped a page out. I picked up the pen and started to write.

"Dear Taylor,
How’s it going up in E-Town? How’re the guys? How’s the training?"

I stopped, thinking that this was really stupid. I sound like an idiot, I thought to myself. I kept writing anyways,

"I miss you, you know, I really do. I miss playing NHL ’12 with you (mainly because you sucked and I always won - I forgot that even though I can outskate Riley any day, she skates circles around me in NHL ’12. I mean really, she killed me 12-1 last night three games in a row)."

I smiled to myself, thinking about the night before. Riley came home early, and I surprised her with a bottle of champagne and a pizza. Lame, I know, but it got her to play NHL with me. I was convinced she only played because she knew she could beat me.

"It’s hard, being on a different schedule than the person you’re living with. You and I could drop everything and go out for ice cream whenever we wanted, whereas Riley is so busy. I miss spontaneity. I miss everything about you."

I stopped my pen abruptly. Did I seriously just write that? I decided to keep going. He deserves to know, I kept telling myself, he deserves to know.

"I miss the way that you’d always call me a “gap-toothed bitch”. I miss getting your crispy passes. I miss drinking at the Cactus Club until the sun came up. I miss… I miss us.

I’m rambling, oh my god. I’m going to end it off here, Basically what I wanted to say is that I miss you. I really, really miss you. It’s actually physically hurting me, I’ll be honest.

I love you Taylor, I love you so much.

Love,
Jordan"

I started crying. It felt so good to finally get that out. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest. I put the pen down and folded up the letter, reaching for an envelope out of what was supposed to be a napkin holder. I placed it inside and addressed the envelope to my old address. I walked inside and set it on the counter, trying to decide whether or not I’d actually send it. Part of me really wanted to, but the other part was warning me to not. I was torn. I heard the door open.

“Jordan?” I heard Riley’s sweet voice echo through the hallway. I ran to greet her, pulling her into a tight hug. I held her for so long, that I forgot that she needed to breathe. I let go, and she looked at me. “What was that for?” she laughed, her beautiful laugh, “I saw you at noon.”

I smiled at her, as she slipped her flats off and hung up her blazer. “I missed you,” I said stupidly. It was true. When she was here, I wasn’t alone in my thoughts, “you’re back early,” I pointed out as we walked into the kitchen. She looked at the clock as she walked towards the stainless steel refrigerator to pull out a carton of orange juice. It was only 8:30.

“Yeah,” she sighed as she poured herself a glass of the juice, “I can only study hormones for so long before my brain turns to mush,” she laughed as she sipped her juice. She offered me a glass, but I turned it down. I sat down on the opposite side of the counter on one of the bar stools. I just looked at her. Her wavy, light blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, with a few wisps hanging around her pale, freckly face. She had a slight pimple on her delicate nose, but that didn’t change anything. Her normally bright blue eyes looked watery and bloodshot. She had to leave every morning at 5:30 to beat the Los Angeles traffic. Even then, it was a long haul to the university. She was living on double espressos, and she hated coffee. She was wearing a long sleeved, flowered t shirt that went a couple inches past her wrists and a pair of worn out jeans. Around her neck was a chain with the ring I had given her when we graduated. Yes, I had given her a ring. That’s how much I loved her. I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach as we sat there in silence, her big hands wrapped around her glass. That was of the beautiful things about us. We could stand there in silence, and walk away from it as if we had the best conversation of our lives. She smiled tiredly, her eyebrows crinkling.

“How’s your knee feeling?” I asked, breaking the silence. She giggled a little.

“Surprisingly well,” she said, standing up straighter. She took a sip of juice. “I ran with Chelsea today,” she added, looking like she was rather proud of herself. I smiled.

“Really?” I asked, legitimately excited for her. When we were in grade 12, she got injured her knee playing on our high school soccer team. She had to take the rest of the year off, and couldn’t start in time for university tryouts because of her knee surgery. She never got back into it, because her knee was forever giving her problems. When she was able to run with her friends on the team, it was a big deal for her.

She nodded, “are you excited for training camp? Get to hang out with Cogs…” she joked. He was one of her favourite Oilers, until he was traded. I laughed and nodded. We could tease each other over everything, yet another thing that I loved about us. I glanced at the letter sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter. I felt really stupid for writing it. It was times like these that I realised how much I really loved her.

When we went to bed, Riley almost passed out as soon as she her head hit her pillow. I climbed in beside her, pulling her close to me, “I love you,” I whispered into her ear, so soft that I almost didn’t hear myself say it.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, smiling weakly.

THE NEXT EVENING

“Did you mail the letter that was on the counter?” I asked her, quickly. She looked confused.

“Yeah,” she answered, “they were mine…” I stopped, remembering that I shoved them into the pile of her’s, “are you alright?” she asked, sounding concerned, “you look really pale.”

I nodded, trying not to freak out. That letter was on its way to Taylor whether I liked it or not. I felt like I was going to die.