Wasted Words by Staci Hart

I headed for the subway, descending the stairs as I put in my earbuds and walked through the turnstile, all to the same album I’d been listening to on repeat. I always did that — listen to them over and over again until I was almost afraid to turn them off, afraid to lose the feeling the music gave me. This one in particular I’d played until I knew every single note, every beat, every word, and the whole of it made up the sum of me as I stepped into the metal train, heading for Wasted Words.

I didn’t have anywhere else to go. At least there was alcohol there. And Rose. I could really use some Rose.

The train rattled and clattered down the track, though I was lost in thought, even as I reached my stop and made my way out, ducking my head against the rain once it found me again. Before long, I was standing in front of the store, my home away from home, pulling the door open.

I flipped back my hood and took out my earbuds, stowing them in my pocket. Rose was behind the bar, and her brow rose as I approached.

She frowned as I took off my jacket and sat down, feeling flat and dead.

“Whiskey?”

“Whiskey.”

She nodded and poured me a drink, watching me inconspicuously. “Want to talk about it?”

I didn’t say anything.

She handed me the drink, and I took it, sipping it gratefully. “We got in a fight. A bad fight. And now he’s gone.”

“Oh, Cam,” she said softly.

I shook my head and shrugged. “It went so much worse than I thought it would. He said he didn’t want to talk about it again. That if I didn’t get it, there was nothing else to say.”

She frowned again, and this time her whole face joined in.

I shrugged again and took another drink, wincing against the bitter rye.

“So you didn’t talk to him about what’s holding you back?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want to hear it. Our relationship was already so fragile, and I blew it up. I think it’s over, Rose.” My nose burned as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

“Just like that? I mean, it’s not like he can avoid talking to you about it. You live together.”

“This whole time I was worried about me getting hurt, and I didn’t spend nearly enough time worrying about how he felt, what he wanted. I’ve been selfish. I’ve betrayed his trust by worrying he would betray mine.”

She didn’t have anything to say, just waited for me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say to him or you or anyone. He’s hurt because I took it too far.” I sighed. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

Rose’s lips were tight. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? He’s better off without me, I’ve been saying that this whole time. This way we can just move on.”

“You really think you’re going to just pick up and move on from Tyler?”

I shrugged, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Come on, Cam. You’re smarter than this.”

I didn’t respond.

She fumed. “I’m not kidding. You guys breaking up isn’t better for either one of you.”

“How so? Because he was right. I was on the fence the whole time, and that’s not his fault. I’m too fucked up to be with him, that much is painfully clear.”

“I’m through being cute with you about this. Look at you. You’re fucking miserable. You think you’re doing anyone any favors with some bullshit self-sacrifice? You think you’re saving yourself? Or saving him? Because that’s absolute horse shit.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and banged out a text. “You’re talking to Patrick.”

I made a face. “Why?”

She gave me a pointed look. “Because he’s been an idiot before too, and you need to hear the truth from somebody as stupid as you are.” Her phone buzzed. “Good. He’s on his way. You just sit there and get a little drunk while we wait for the cavalry.”

“I don’t need a talking-to. I’m not a child, Rose.”

“Really?” she said, hands on her hips and brows high. “Because you sure are acting like one. Your dream guy is all about you, and you pushed him away because you think he’s better than you. That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever fucking heard in my life. You speak like a thousand languages and have an IQ that puts you somewhere in the borderline genius category of humanity, and yet here you are, giving up. You shot yourself in the foot because you’re afraid.”

“I know I did, but that’s just how I feel, Rose. Like I don’t fit in. I don’t always know my place around him, not like here. Not like over there.” I motioned to the comic side of the store. “Why do you think I worked at a comic store all that time? Sure, I could have gotten a ‘real’ job pushing papers and filing reports and who even knows what, but I don’t fit in there either. I want to feel like I belong, just like anybody. So I worked at the comic shop because I didn’t feel weird or different. I could be me, and that was enough.” The words left me too quickly, too honestly, with my heart banging and cheeks flushed.

Her face softened. “I know, Cam. I know. But you’re enough. The raw version of Cam is who we all love. We don’t want you to be different than that. And I get you feeling out of place, I really do. But just because you put on lipstick and a dress doesn’t mean you’re not who you are.” She threw a coaster at me that said, Comparison is the thief of joy – Theodore Roosevelt. “Why do you compare yourself to anyone else? To strangers, to what you think Tyler wants? Why can’t you just accept who you are and who he is and let that be enough?”