Allie Newbern (allienewbern) wrote in the_brook, @ 2010-03-01 00:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !finished, !oneshot, allie newbern |
with these broken wings, i'm falling
Physically, everything was exactly how she remembered– the peeling paint on the side of the hardware store hadn’t even been replaced, ironically enough. The same group of elderly men still sat around the same round table at the same little diner, drinking from the same mismatched coffee mugs and swapping the same old stories. The same people still walked the same streets as they always had, moving as though their feet were permanently attached to an invisible track, day in and day out. It was the typical small town way of life, everyone going about their day and nothing ever really changing– except that, with the omission of the physical aspect of the small New England town, everything had changed, and Stoneybrook would never look the same to Allie again.
Being back home brought on a flood of nostalgia, beginning with the view from Allie’s childhood bedroom, looking directly into the backyard, which once held a dingy, plastic Sesame Street kiddie pool– eventually meeting its demise after one too many head-first slides into it– that she and Ryan would splash around in as kids. She knew being home would bring back some memories of Ryan, but she didn’t realize how prominent or frequent they would be. It had been different in Florida– she’d thought about him constantly, but always had something there to distract her. Here, her mind was a vast portal, ready to suck in and retain any morsel of a thought she’d have about her ex-boyfriend.
Letting out a small sigh, Allie rolled over and curled herself into the fetal position, glancing at the crimson glow illuminating off the bedside clock. Midnight on the dot. She rolled onto her back, wondering why she suddenly had the vague sense of needing to be somewhere... being late... missing something...
Bolting into an upright position, she grabbed the clock radio, knocking her water glass onto the floor in the process and fumbled at the dial, frantically twisting the knob until she got to the station. Shortly after her arrival, she’d met up with her former roommate for coffee and gossip– the former the only one Allie was really interested in. After droning on and on about their former classmates– with Allie zoning in and out of consciousness and wanting desperately to know what Ryan was up to, but wanting more desperately to not mention him– Liz finally informed her that Ryan was working at some radio station in or near or around or close to Manhattan. Her heart had sunk slightly when she found out he was all the way into the city, but she knew she’d be a complete fool for thinking that he might still be in Stamford, waiting for her and the inevitable collapse of her marriage.
After twisting the dial back and forth and coming up with nothing but the usual stations, Allie shoved her blankets off her and pulled on some jeans, fastening the belt as she quietly bolted from her bedroom. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation, maybe the urgency of sentimentality, or possibly a slight case of desperation, but whatever the case, Allie wanted– no, needed to hear his voice.
She twisted the knob to the station the instant she climbed into the decrepit old Chevy her dad had loaned her, letting the static noise fill the cab. Allie’s truck had long since been sold, the money squandered by Beau in Vegas when he thought he could count cards and make them money. ‘Thought’ being the key word, and although she never dared to show it, Allie found it hilarious-but-in-a-bad-way-cause-she-has-n
The snowy station was oddly lulling, and Allie cracked the window slightly to keep from falling asleep. She thought back to the late night drives she’d go on in Florida, trying to calm down after another fight with Beau had occurred. She would drive aimlessly, think about anything and everything or sing along to angry chick music, but, what she always did, no matter the caliber of the fight, was listen to an old, saved voice mail from Ryan. She never told anyone– it sounded more than a little weird, even to her– but hearing his voice, hearing him tell her that he loved her and would be home soon gave her hope that somewhere out there, someone had loved her, and maybe one day, someone could love her again.
The static was starting to break through as Allie drove closer to the city, and she reached over to turn up the volume, not wanting to miss a second of whatever was to come. She could almost make out the faint guitar rifts amongst the snow and when the sound finally burst through, clear as a bell, she nearly drove off the road in shock.
Show me what it's like to be the last one standing, and teach me wrong from right, and I'll show you what I can be. Say it for me, say it to me, and I'll leave this life behind me. Say it if it's worth saving me.
Throughout their relationship, Ryan would play a handful of songs while at work to let Allie know he was thinking of her. Some of them were less-that-romantic, because, of course, he was Ryan– hello, Crazy Bitch. But a few of them– this one in particular– was one of the sweetest songs she’d ever heard... more than likely because he was dedicating it to her, because he loved her, and she threw that all away like the asshole that she was.
She cranked the wheel hard to the right, skidding on the roadside gravel for a moment before screeching to a stop. Maybe it was just a fluke that the song was playing, maybe it meant nothing at all. Maybe Ryan wasn’t even DJ-ing that night. But as the final words echoed through the truck, a painfully familiar voice followed, impossibly louder than the song was. She squeezed her eyes shut as his voice crushed her heart, and she was frozen, vehemently aching to turn the radio off, to make his voice disappear like she did. But she didn’t. She listened, breathing in shaky breath after shaky breath until his voice vanished and a commercial for some Manhattan store she didn’t give a shit about took his place. She clicked off the radio, the deafening silence taking over the airspace until her quiet, choked sobs erupted. Letting herself wallow in the memories for a few moments, Allie finally aggressively wiped her face and shifted the truck into gear, twisting it back into the direction of home.
It was a fluke, she decided. He wasn’t still thinking about her, not after she trekked across his heart like it was nothing more than a piece of trash before vanishing to the other side of the country with a boy who treated her as though she was the trash. If anything, he should hate her, and anything that they’d once had– as friends or lovers– was now nothing more than hearts and flowers... dust in the wind.