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I opened my mouth, ready to list a million reasons why I lost it, but slowly shut it again.
I couldn’t answer her question.
CHAPTER FIFTY: Cole
The house was quiet. Too quiet. I hadn’t slept a wink all night and now I sat in the dimly lit kitchen drinking cold coffee because every time I filled a new cup I forgot to drink it. All the blinds remained closed even though I’d seen bright blue skies through my bathroom’s skylight. Maybe the cocoon of protection I hid in by closing my house up would protect me.
Even at thirty-seven years of age, I kept picking my cell phone up and glancing at the screen like a teenager, praying for a text, a missed call, any sign that Chad was okay. The worst thing? I was an adult, and yet, I couldn’t simply call him and ask if he was. I’d even thought of calling his father, Alex, but after witnessing his anger over the Clint situation and how he’d disliked how his son was treated, I was afraid to bother him.
Even more pathetic? I’d made assumptions about what had transpired and I wasn’t even there when it had. I was going on information from a guy named Rat. When Rat told the story, every detail was about Chad ‘losing his shit, dude’, but in my mind, the scene was Clint returning to woo Chad back. I imagined a scenario where Chad was so overcome with loss that he overreacted, and Clint would, of course, forgive him.
The scene in my driveway was what I’d focused on. Chad barely knew I was there and how concerned I was about his well-being. When I’d asked what happened, his response was that Clint wanted him back, we’re building a house, and something about his food truck. I hadn’t considered that Clint returning and wanting Chad back was even a possibility. I’d been led to believe that Clint wasn’t gay and so the relationship had ended because of that.
Several weeks of convincing myself of how confident I felt about Chad and me flew out the window the second I was confronted by difficulty. I’d given my heart over, finally, and of course, I’d given it to a man who wasn’t over his ex.
Even though I’d given great thought to my concerns about Chad being under a year from his breakup, his confidence and breezy disposition convinced me he was. I’d focused on my own realization that I could love again, and that by itself was cause to celebrate my personal growth. Yet, here I was, feeling like everything Chad and I had been building was for naught.
He was obviously still grieving, or so angry inside, that even a man with his considerable skills at forgiveness lost control of his emotions. And naturally, because I never felt like I could possibly be enough for someone, was convinced I’d ignored the signs and would now pay the price. I was a rebound. That must be it. At least that was what my inexperience at dating and the rules concerning love were indicating.
And to further convince myself that I couldn’t be anyone’s first choice, I thought about how terrible I felt when Alan left me for someone else, and how ridiculous the notion that I could start again with someone new seemed to me then. Let alone start something after seven or eight months, like Chad attempted to do.
Unlike Chad’s dilemma, Alan didn’t come back for me after a few months. He didn’t ask me to take him back, or plan things like building a house together. Had he done so, what would I have done? I’d had three years to heal and an ex that hadn’t come back proclaiming his love. Chad had only a few months and a chance at saving what they had. Where did that leave me?
My phone buzzed, causing me to jump. My first thought was that Chad was finally calling me and that he would explain away my doubts and fears. The caller was Marla.
“Hello,” I answered.
“I knew it,” she stated. “I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I sighed.
“Don’t fuck with me, Cole. I sensed something in the air,” she stated. “Tell me everything is okay with you and lover boy, and then I’ll hang up and leave you be.”
“Everything is not okay with me and lover boy,” I said. “He’s not over his ex,” I added.
“Did he say that?” she pressed.
“Not exactly,” I replied, poking my finger into my coffee cup. Fuck. Cold again.
“So you just decided to assume that he wasn’t over his ex?”
“His ex is in town. He just showed up and announced he wants Chad back,” I explained. “Chad had a meltdown, so obviously he wants that, too.”
I could almost see her disgust at my assumptions as she made a noise of disappointment that I was familiar with. A throat sound where you knew she was holding back a few choice words before she responded.
She cleared her throat, paused again, and then finally let loose. “Okay, Professor Dipshit. So, you’ve deduced that because his ex wants him back that he’s automatically agreeing to that? Is that what I’m hearing, you sophomore?”
“Why else would he have a meltdown and have to be dragged off of his ex by his friends because he was so angry?” I asked.
“Is that what happened, or are you making that up, too?”
“It happened according to witnesses, yes.” I answered. “I saw him after as well and he was in some kind of stupor over the encounter,” I added, sure I’d convinced her of my theory.
“Are you that dumb?” she sighed.
“I dunno,” I mumbled.
“He was pissed, Cole. Pull your head out of your ass. He was fucking pissed the guy showed up after they broke up,” she explained. “You don’t lose your goddamned mind when an ex shows and you’re actually happy to see them, do you?” I remained silent. “Well, do you?”
