Broken Fairytales

Broken Fairytales

By Monica Alexander

Copyright 2012 by Monica Alexander

ISBN: 978-1-4764-0237-6

Cover Image: © Design Pics / www.fotosearch.com

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or personals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

The information in this book is distributed as an as is basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

Playlist

Chapter One

You’re leaving?! my best friend Rachel asked when I called to break the news to her. Tell me you’re not serious.

I’m serious, I told her, flopping down on my bed.

My still damp bathing suit clung uncomfortably to my body, but I didn’t feel like getting up and changing. Visions of a house on the beach and a summer spent lying in the sun with my iPod and a stack of books had me wishing the next few weeks would fly by, and I couldn’t focus on much else.

Mom and Dad are whisking us away for eight weeks of fun in the sun and apparently some much needed family bonding time or something, I continued. Chase and Keely aren’t very excited.

Neither am I, Rachel murmured. I could hear one of the chairs on her back deck scratch the wood floor as she pulled it out and collapsed on it in a huff. Why the need for the sudden familial bonding and whatnot?

I sighed. Because Chase and I are graduating in the spring and Keely’s off to college, so this is the last summer we can do something like this as a family. My mom’s feeling sentimental, I suppose.

When do you guys leave?

The first of July, I said, examining my stomach to see how tan I’d gotten in the four hours we’d spent laying out by Rachel’s pool that afternoon. After eight weeks at the beach, I’d be sporting a tan worthy of a suntan lotion ad, and the thought gave me giddy chills.

Shit. That’s in like two weeks.

Rachel was decidedly not giddy. She was bummed. In the background I could heard the methodical clicking of something that sounded like a lighter. I knew the sound all too well. My brother had smoked since high school and had a bad habit of clicking his lighter when he was nervous. Rachel’s intake of breath confirmed my suspicions.

Tell me you’re not smoking, I said, hearing the condescension in my voice.

Ever since Rachel had gotten back from New York, where she’d spent the spring semester studying at Columbia and interning at a music magazine, she’d been smoking when we went out at night. She claimed that everyone she met in New York smoked, so she’d picked up the habit. She swore she was just a social smoker, but as of late it seemed she was moving beyond that.

I’m not smoking, she said, very non-convincingly, as she inhaled deeply and blew out a breath a few moments later. Spare me the lecture, Em. I know smoking is bad for me, blah, blah, blah, but whatever, I just found out my best friend is leaving me for the summer, and I’m not exactly thrilled.

Fine, I said, holding my tongue, but we both knew the judgment that was hidden behind that solitary word. But for the record, you left me all spring, so you don’t really have much room to talk.

Point taken, Rachel said begrudgingly. Although, that was for school. It wasn’t for lying on the beach, partying, and meeting hot guys.

I laughed out loud. Yes, because you know my goals in life are to get wasted and hook up with random guys, I said sarcastically. You’d think after fifteen years you’d know me better, but I guess not.

A girl can dream, Rachel sighed, but I knew she was being facetious.

We’d been best friends since the first grade, and she knew better than anyone that I didn’t party, and I hadn’t dated anyone but my boyfriend Ben in five years. My plans for the summer were strictly PG Rated. Rachel knew that, but she loved to goad me, especially about Ben since she felt we’d been together too long. She hated that we planned to get engaged and move in together after graduation.

Rachel had been telling me for the past two years that I needed to experience more in life, including untying myself from the only guy I’d ever really been with. Only recently, had I started to wonder if she might be right. I hadn’t said anything to her though. I needed to be sure about my feelings before I admitted them out loud, because honestly the idea of ending things with Ben terrified me, and once I put it out there, I knew couldn’t take it back.

I wish you could come with us, I told her, knowing it was a fruitless invite.

Had it been possible, Rachel would have come with my family to the Outer Banks where my parents, not thirty minutes earlier, had surprise-announced that we’d be spending the last two months of the summer there. But Rachel had scored an amazing opportunity to work for a local music magazine, and I knew she’d never pass up the chance to do what she loved. Her role at the magazine was small, but she coveted it. She was responsible for watching live music and writing about the bands. She was in heaven, even if she was only earning a menial salary and had to listen to some pretty crappy music a lot of the time. She got into the concerts for free, and sometimes she even got me in with her, which was an awesome perk when it was a band I actually wanted to see.

What did Ben say when you told him you were leaving? she asked, catching me off-guard.

Um, I didn’t exactly call him yet.

I could almost see Rachel’s eyebrows rise in mix of surprise and skepticism. For years, if I received any earth-shattering news, my first call would have been to Ben. Why I hadn’t called him first, I wasn’t sure. I told myself I’d spent the day with Rachel, so she’d been on my mind, but in reality, when my parents had dropped the family vacation bomb just a few minutes earlier, one of my first thoughts was that leaving for the summer also meant time away from Ben – and that had been a positive thought. I hated myself for feeling that way, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

Ooh, Prince Charming’s going to be pissed when he finds out you’re abandoning him, she teased, and I wished she could see my glare through the phone.

I hated that she called Ben Prince Charming, but at least she never called him that to his face. She just did it to tease me. Having been friends since we were kids, Rachel knew that my childhood fantasy was to be a princess, so I could fall in love with a handsome prince and live in a grand castle with a moat and a drawbridge.

I attributed that farfetched dream to too many Disney movies and a mother who fully supported my desires by allowing me dress up as a princess not only for Halloween, but also for many other non-dress-up appropriate occasions. Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures, and as adorable as everyone says I looked, it’s a little odd to see Belle in all her yellow-ball-gowned-glory at a summer picnic when everyone else is in shorts and tank tops. But my mother knew how much I loved being a princess, so she fed into my deep-rooted wishes to live in a fairytale world where everything was perfect and birds dressed me in the morning.

She even went so far as to dress my twin brother Chase up as any number of fairytale princes for Halloween until he was old enough to tell her no. The last year he let her do it, we’d been six, and he insisted he get to be Luke Skywalker since he was way cooler than Prince Charming. I was okay with it, because I got to be Princess Leia, complete with cinnamon bun twisted braids on either side of my head. After that, Chase refused to coordinate costumes with me, so I was on my own.

Eventually, I stopped dressing like I was a Disney character, but the desire to live the life of a fairytale princess never really left me. I relished the day I was crowned Prom Queen my senior year of high school, because I got to wear a real tiara and a beautiful ground-sweeping pale pink gown. Ben, having been crowned Prom King, stood beside me, wearing a crown of his own, holding a staff and looking like a real prince. I knew in that moment, as we danced together, that I’d found my prince, and one day we would live in a castle – or at least moderately sized single family home – together. I’d made the mistake of telling this to an intoxicated Rachel that night, and hence Ben’s nickname was born.

Ignoring Rachel’s teasing, I kept that dream alive for the next three years, making the decisions that would lead me to the life I’d planned out with Ben by my side. Everything was perfect. I could see so clearly what my future would hold when I made the decision to follow him to the University of North Carolina where he’d gotten a full ride to play football for the Tar Heels. I knew I was making the right decision when I’d stood in a circle of my sorority sisters and blew out the candle to signify that Ben had given me his fraternity letters to wear sophomore year. And I knew that my life was right on track to have the fairytale ending I’d always dreamed of when Ben told me he wanted to marry me.

Then one day I woke up and everything I’d always dreamed of having suddenly seemed wrong. I had no idea what had happened to make me change my perception so drastically, but as I thought about the life I’d planned for Ben and me, I started to freak out.

If I had to pinpoint an exact moment in time, I’d have to say everything started to feel a little off right around Spring Break when I’d gone to visit Rachel in New York. I don’t know if it was that my eyes were opened to a different world that was bigger than the one I’d dreamed of, or if after spending a week away from Ben, I realized I didn’t really miss him as much as I thought I would, but suddenly it was like I knew wanted more out of life – more than I knew deep down Ben could ever give me. And I’d been stewing about it ever since.

Ben will understand, I told Rachel. He starts summer practices in a few weeks, so he won’t be here anyway.

It was a solid attempt to pacify myself and stop the gnawing in my stomach that had started as soon as the guilt from my thoughts washed over me. I rationalized that Ben was a captain this year and had responsibilities beyond his wide receiver position that would keep him busy. He was also a big boy and could survive a few weeks without his girlfriend.

Yeah, but being two hours away, you could easily visit him, Rachel reminded me. It’s a little harder to drive five hours from the coast for a weekend visit.

I hated that she’d reminded me of that small detail, because I knew the added distance would have Ben pouting. I’d already thought about it, knowing how frustrating the conversation was going to be when I told him just how far away from Chapel Hill I’d be for the next two months.

Maybe distance is what we need, I said softly, so softly that I wasn’t sure if Rachel even heard me.

She didn’t answer right away, but after a few moments of probably wrapping her head around what I’d just said, she asked the burning question we both knew I didn’t want to answer.

Em, are you thinking about breaking up with Ben?

I could hear the concern in her voice, because as much as Rachel thought I needed to date other people, she also knew how I felt about Ben. If I was making this decision, and I honestly wasn’t sure I was, it was going to be one of the biggest decisions I’d ever made.

No. I don’t know. Maybe, I said, biting my lip as the words escaped without my control. But as soon as they did, a deep feeling of relief flooded through me. I’d been holding on to that thought for months, and it actually felt good to admit it out loud. I just have a lot going on right now, and I’m not sure what I want.

Oh, Emily, Rachel said softly, because even though teased me about breaking up with Ben, I don’t think she ever thought I’d seriously consider it.

I wish I would have told her sooner what was going on with me, but I just couldn’t. She didn’t know that I’d spent the entire plane ride back from New York, and the subsequent next four months, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with me. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew I should be happy. The things I’d worked for and aspired to be all my life had come to fruition. I should have been elated, but I just wasn’t. Worse, I wasn’t exactly sure what was missing in my life or what I needed to change. I knew if I could figure that out, I could go after it, because that was how I did things. It was what I’d always done.

So far, in my twenty-one years, everything I’d set out to achieve, I’d accomplished. I was a stranger to disappointment, as I’d rarely experienced it. Some might say I lived a charmed life, but I always liked to think of it as being planful, careful, and making good decisions. I wasn’t ever reckless, and I didn’t take risks. That helped me stay on course.

But what was I supposed to do when the course I’d set myself on for so long didn’t seem like the right one anymore? I definitely hadn’t planned for that, so how did I even begin to navigate through it? As the spring semester wore on, so did the nagging feeling that I was doing something wrong in the grand scheme of life. I didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone about what I was experiencing because I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. I was definitely too young to be having a mid-life crisis, or even a quarter-life crisis, but I seriously felt like I was losing my mind.

But even though I hadn’t told anyone what I was going through, anyone who knew me could tell something was wrong. No matter how hard I tried to maintain my composure and pretend everything was great, I couldn’t help the times when my personal angst bubbled to the surface and reared its ugly head. It was to the point that my friends were starting to ask questions.

I was irritated a lot, which led to me snapping at people and muttering sarcastic comments under my breath – two things I’d never done before. I was known for being sweet and kind and always collected. I was the girl who took care of everyone else, not the one who needed to be cared for, but suddenly, I just couldn’t seem to keep it together.

Poor Ben had taken the brunt of my aggravation, and we’d started getting into fights on a regular basis. I’d grown to find his constant bouts of pouting annoying, especially when they were because he didn’t get his way. I felt smothered by his incessant need to spend every waking moment with me, and I’d started to push him away. I wasn’t even sure he was really the issue or if he was just one of my problems that I’d found a possible solution to – even if the solution terrified me.

It’s fine, I told Rachel, pulling myself together and checking my emotions, knowing it was what I should do. I’m not actually going to break up with Ben. I’m just having a mini-crisis. It’s stupid.

It’s not stupid, Rachel said emphatically. Em, you have plans to get engaged to Ben, and move to Atlanta with him after graduation. That’s a big deal, so if you’re second-guessing if you want to be with him, you shouldn’t dismiss it. Let’s talk about this.

Aren’t you supposed to be telling me to break up with him? Isn’t that what you do, Rach? I snapped, wondering why all of a sudden, my usually snarky, detached best friend, was being conscientious.

She was supposed to give me tough love. It’s what she did. She wasn’t supposed to coax me into facing my emotions, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to want to talk about them.

Don’t be a bitch, she cautioned, and suddenly the Rachel I knew and loved was back.

I sighed. Fine. Then be honest with me, I told her, hearing the exhaustion I was feeling come through in my tone. What should I do?

Rachel sighed, long and loud, and I heard her light another cigarette. After a few moments, she said, Moving to Atlanta with Ben is safe and easy, and it’s a mistake.

But I have a job lined up there, I reminded her, thinking back to the summer before when I’d interned at Grabel PR. They’d essentially offered me the chance to come back after I graduated and take an entry-level position. Sure, they did PR for financial companies, which was a little dry, but it was a job, and jobs were hard to come by. Working for Grabel might have been safe, but it was also smart.

Em, I know you better than anyone, do I not?

Yes, I said warily, not sure where Rachel was going with her question.

And because I know you better than anyone else, I also know that you are truly talented. If you take the job with Grabel, you’ll be wasting your talent in a job you’ll hate after three months. Which is why you should come to New York, live with me, and work in entertainment PR like I know you want to.

I sighed, because it wasn’t the first time she’d brought up something so tempting. I’d kill to work in entertainment PR in a city like New York, but I also knew I didn’t have near the connections I needed to make that happen. It was a seriously long shot that I’d even get an interview anywhere. And even if I did, there was a good chance I could fall flat on my face. I knew how cutthroat that world could be.

Rach, it’s so competitive, I said softly.

Yeah, and if you break up with Ben, you might never find anyone else, she said sarcastically, hitting on another one of my deep-rooted fears.

Screw you, I snapped at her, anger suddenly boiling in my blood. I’m sorry I can’t be as flippant as you and spit in the face of monogamy, but maybe that’s your problem. Maybe if you’d let someone get close to you for once, you’d realize what it’s like to really love someone and be sincerely afraid to lose them.

At least I know when to cut someone loose, she snapped back.

Yeah, as soon as you hook them, you throw them back. You don’t ever give yourself a chance to develop any lasting feelings.

Well, at least I’m not with a guy who’s completely wrong for me, who I should have dumped years ago because I’m holding onto some fucking fantasy of what I wanted my life to be like when I was five!

I sucked in a breath, knowing she was aiming below the belt and had hit me right in the gut, right where she knew it would hurt. Unfortunately, she didn’t stop her tirade there.

Emily, you are so damn scared of making any decision without weighing out every single option that you never make any decisions at all!

That’s not true, I fired back.

Oh yeah, I forgot. You choose whatever is safe and easy. You do make decisions, but they’re the most boring decisions ever!

Rage was boiling in my chest at that point. I was so mad I could hardly form words. Shut up, Rachel! You don’t know what you’re talking about, I seethed.

I know more than you think, she said in that self-satisfied way of hers. And if you think marrying Ben, moving to the suburbs, and having 2.3 kids is going to make you happy, then you’re going to wake up at thirty-five and realize you sold out and you hate your life. You’re better than that!

I leaned my head back against my headboard and closed my eyes.

Dammit, Emily! Rachel shouted, so loudly that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Take a goddam risk for once, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find out how happy you can actually be instead of faking your way through life.

Yeah, and maybe I’ll fail, I shouted back.

Yeah, well at least then you would have tried, she said, and with that she slammed the phone down.

Chapter Two

I felt like I should cry. I hated fighting with Rachel, and I usually didn’t fight back. But ever since I’d started to fall apart at the seams, I’d started challenging her when she’d get on her high-horse and tell me what to do.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the tears to come. My best friend had just berated me, I’d berated her, and then she’d hung up on me. I should want to cry, but for some reason, the tears didn’t come. I knew deep down that Rachel had said what she had out of love, so I couldn’t bring myself to be mad, but she’d still pissed me off – mostly because she’d made me think about things I’d have rather pushed to the back of my mind.

She was right, though. Everything she’d said was exactly what I’d been feeling for months but was too afraid to admit. It was disconcerting how well she knew me, and as she’d just proven, how she sometimes knew me better than I knew myself.

I sat up, sighed, and flopped back down against my pillows. My stomached churned at the idea of moving to New York without a safety net and trying to make it in entertainment PR. It was a ridiculous notion, but at the same time, the idea of doing PR for bands or for Broadway or even for bars and night clubs had my adrenaline going. I knew deep down it was what I wanted to do, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be courageous enough to take that leap.

Dammit, Rachel was right. And I was going to have to call her later and tell her she was right. Grr. She was always right, and I kind of hated it.

I’d known Rachel since the first grade when she sat next to me in Ms. Cunningham’s class and passed me a note on the first day asking if I wanted to be her best friend. I’d never had a girl best friend, since my brother Chase and I had been inseparable as kids, so when she asked, I immediately told her yes. I remember taking in her long auburn hair, big blue eyes and stylish clothes and thinking she was the coolest girl I’d ever seen. Of course I wanted to be her friend. I just didn’t know how amazing being her friend would be.

Ironically, it was our differences that kept us close over the years. Rachel was always stubborn, tough, and a bit of a know-it-all. She didn’t put up with anything from anyone and stood up for me more times over the years than I could count. In third grade, when Bobby Fallon made me cry after telling everyone I had cooties and not to talk to me, Rachel cornered him on the playground, strong-armed him into apologizing, and then forced him tell the whole class that it was really him who had cooties. Then in seventh grade when Taylor Jansen, my crush for the better part of the year, dumped me after a week of ‘going out’, Rachel told him off on the bus on the way home before protectively putting her arm around me as I cried. And in eleventh grade when Ashleigh Ballast had tried to make-out with Ben at a party, Rachel had threatened to hit her, and she backed off.

Rachel was fearless, confident, and she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She was everything I couldn’t be, everything I coveted, and I valued her more than I realized. I never had to stand up for myself, because Rachel was always there to do it for me. If it hadn’t been for her, I probably would have been a huge nerd, but she brought me out of my shell. All my life she’d pushed me to do things that scared me, just like she was pushing me to take a risk and go to New York to pursue my dreams. She’d seldom steered me wrong in the past, but those decisions seemed so insignificant now, and the risks hadn’t been big. Throwing away my future with Ben and moving to New York with Rachel could be disastrous.

Of course, it could also be amazing, and I knew that as much as Rachel pushed me, she’d also be there to catch me if I fell. That was just the kind of friend she was. She’d always been there for me. She was with me the first time I got drunk, taking care of me when I was later puking in the bushes of our sorority house and keeping a watchful eye out for our house mother. She was there for me when I got into my first car accident, had rushed Gamma Pi with me because I’d wanted to join a sorority, and had even held my hand sophomore year after I’d taken a pregnancy test and had to wait five minutes to learn my fate. Thankfully it had been negative, but I don’t know what I would have done if Rachel hadn’t been there with me, telling me that regardless of what the test said, we’d handle it together. She’d been by my side through almost every significant moment in my life.

I waited an hour before I called her back, giving her time to cool off.

You’re right, I said as soon as she answered. I completely need to take more risks.

I’m sorry I hung up on you, she said, knowing it was better not to acknowledge my apology. She knew I wasn’t ready to talk about my life after graduation, so she was letting it drop. And I’m sorry I said all of that stuff about you and Ben. That was shitty of me.

Yeah, it was, but it’s fine. I know you meant well. I still love you.

Love you, too, she said softly.

We were silent for a few moments, feeling each other out before either of us spoke again.

So you really have to leave before Fourth of July? she finally asked me.

I nodded and said, Yeah, the parents want us there for the holiday.

Oh, she said, sounding sad. It made me wonder if something else was going on outside of just me leaving.

It wasn’t like Rachel to be upset about something like that. She wasn’t clingy, and it wasn’t like we couldn’t exist without being in the same city.

So Chase and Keely are going down at the same time as you? she asked.

Um, yeah, I said, confused by why she’d even be concerned with the whereabouts of my brother and sister.

My brother, Rachel, and I had been really close as kids, but once we hit high school, we pretty much stopped being friends. Chase barely spoke to me now, and he barely saw Rachel. I couldn’t remember the last time they’d said two words to each other. Rachel and Keely had never been close, since Keely was four years younger than us. It was strange