Long Way to Love

That Thursday after work, Cheyenne checked the messages on the machine and heard one from Eric.

"Hey," he'd said, hesitating between the greeting and the rest of the message. "I have a few things of yours at my house. Drop by after work today and you can pick them up."

She deleted the message and debated forgetting about her belongings. She'd spent so much time over at Eric's house, she was sure there'd be at least two boxes worth of stuff. Most likely books and clothes. She always stashed books around his room so she could read if he was busy with something.

But was the stuff important enough to go over there? It was getting to be painful stepping into his apartment, knowing it'd probably be the last time she'd ever be there. It was like her second home now. How could she say goodbye to it?

Eric's messages sounded like he wanted the things gone more than she needed them back. He was clearing his life of her. Her pink bra hanging on the closet door knob probably didn't help the process.

Driving out of the driveway, she made a left at the end of the neighborhood. Chances were, Eric wasn't even home in the first place. Band practice started in thirty minutes, but he was probably going to hang out at Tom's place to make things easier when she picked up her belongings.

As she waited at a stoplight, she turned on the AM/FM stereo. An old Stones song blasted through the speakers.

She grabbed the tube of lipstick Robin had given her from the center console and spread it over her lips. She smacked them together and checked herself in the rear view mirror.

A horn blared behind her. The stoplight had already switched to green and she was holding up traffic. She stepped on the gas, hit two more green lights, and turned onto Beech Street.

She saw Eric's truck parked at the curb in front of the apartment building.

Should I drive right past? she wondered.

Heart beating a little faster, she pulled up behind the truck and parked. As much as she wanted to avoid awkwardness or worse-more arguments-she still wanted to see him. Now that they were broken up, she hardly talked to him.

A young woman opened the door when Cheyenne knocked. From the way her face softened, seeing Cheyenne standing there, the woman obviously knew they'd broken up. Her short hair layed above her shoulders in loose, wet curls as if she had just gotten out of the shower and threw on some clothes to answer the door. "Oh, Chey," She whispered, pulling Cheyenne inside and into a hug. "I'm sorry." She ran her hand down Cheyenne's hair.

Cheyenne blinked excessively, not knowing whether she should push this woman aside or suffer through the hug. Was this Eric's new girlfriend? Eric must have mentioned her if the woman knew his nickname for Cheyenne.

"It's all right," Cheyenne said. She breathed in the woman's perfume, a light, fruity scent.

"It's not your fault." The woman said, breaking their hug.

Cheyenne gave the woman a strange glare when they made eye contact. The woman laughed before explaining, "Oh, you must think I'm nutty. No, no. I'm Adie, Tom's sister. I was over here on official business. See, practice was canceled today and i needed to drop off the brownies our mother made for Eric. It's pathetic how much she loves Eric. He's like part of the family, you know?"

"I'm in my room!" Eric shouted, his tone airy and casual as it would have been any other time she came over. But it wasn't any other time. Things had changed between them. Why was he acting so normal?

Cheyenne nodded to Adie and shot her a smile before taking short steps down the carpeted hallway, pretending for a second that things were the same, until she went up the stairs and into his room and the box on the floor reminded her that he was kicking her out as well as breaking up with her.

They'd painted and decorated his room together. She'd picked out the color for the walls. He picked the navy blue bed set. She'd whined until he bought the black shelves and hung those up. she stuffed them with records and a picture of the two of them on his birthday.

She glanced at the shelves now. The picture was still there. It was just their faces, Gizmo in the background. They were both smiling. What would he do with the photo now?

Eric sat up on his bed and set the magazine he'd been reading aside. He smiled uneasily.

"I figured you'd be at practice already." She said.

"Didn't you hear? Practice was canceled today." He shrugged and got up. "I thought you deserved for me to be here when you collect your stuff. You know, instead of my just sending you off with a box."

Eric always was polite (beside the burps). Cheyenne realized she probably would have just sent him off with a box. He'd always been a better person of the two of them.

"Thanks," she muttered, bending down to open the box. She dug inside, seeing a few T-shirts and a few books, just as she suspected. She pulled out a holey, torn, shirt and wrapped the material around her hands. "I'd forgotten about this," It used to be her favorite shirt. Hence the holes. Eric had gotten too excited during one of their make out sessions and his ring tore the fabric.

"I was going to throw it away, but i knew you'd be pissed." he said, his tone mirthful.

"You always tried throwing it away before."

"I know, but it's your favorite."

"I appreciate you keeping it."

"No problem." he hesitated for a second, before grabbing his jacket. "I'll walk you out."

She picked up the box. Eric held the front door open for her.

The sun started to peek through the clouds, rays glinting off the few inches of snow. Cheyenne narrowed her eyes, he light nearly blinding her. Eric took the box out of her hands and slid it in the backseat of her mid seventies Oldsmobile. She'd probably miss this the most, his need to take care of her, even now when they weren't together.

"So, i guess i'll see you," she said, hesitating. The void between them was growing, and she wanted to fill it with something. She stepped up on the curb and snaked her around his neck. A hug was safe, friendly.

Eric returned the hug, and for a second, she thought maybe there was a chance they'd get back together. It was hard to even believe they were broken up, as if it were some sort of practical joke he was playing and any minute he'd laugh and say, "Gotchya!" Not that Eric was into playing practical jokes.

When she pulled away, there was something she wanted to say, no, needed to say, because the longer she thought about it, the more she thought this breakup had more to do with her than it did him. It was like a death, their whole relationship suddenly flashing before her eyes and, almost always, it seemed the bad parts were something having to do with her temper or stubbornness.

She was kind of a bitch.

"I'm sorry," she began, holding his hand.

He looked out over the street as if collecting his thoughts. "It's not you. I need the space. So do you."

Letting his hand go, she kicked at the snow with her foot. "I guess that's it." She looked up, meeting his eyes. They say it only takes twenty-one days to develop a habit. She'd been with Eric, kissing him every day for, like, 100 days. That wasn't a habit anymore, it was an addiction.

Without thinking about it, Cheyenne reached up to kiss Eric on the lips. But just before she planted the kiss, he turned away.

"Sorry," she muttered, anger and embarrassment burning her cheeks. She hurried around the front of the Oldsmobile and got inside. She drove away, avoiding looking at Eric, still standing there on the sidewalk.

If Eric could be happy without her, then she could be happy without him. Like he said, he needed space.