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“My family shuts me out. I don’t shut them out.”
“Right. And you shut me out. Don’t do that to Reese. Don’t do that to me anymore.”
“I won’t,” I say. “I don’t want to. I might need you to shake me here or there. Old habits and all.”
“Do I have permission to shake you up if needed?”
“Yes, times one thousand.”
“Good. I will.”
I stand up. “I need to go get my things from his apartment. I have to deal with this and get home before I melt down.”
“Buy a stock of Ben and Jerry’s. I’ll be by to see you, and it helps anyway. Eat it. And I’ll bring Julie with me. She’s a good friend, Cat, and good friends get us through bad times.”
I hug her and I leave.
Thirty minutes later, I stand in my apartment—no, Reese’s apartment. I start packing up my things, but I decide, no. I’ll take only what I have to take. I’ll be back and soon, I hope. I fill a bag and then sit down on the chair where we often watch the sunset, and where we often just sit and talk. I’m going to miss this spot with him so much. My eyes prickle and I stand up before I melt down. My gaze goes to my nightstand where I have a pad and a pen. I walk to it and sit down, and on a blank page I write: I wish I was right HERE right NOW in huge letters. I tear off the page and set it on my pillow.
I then write him a note:
Reese,
There is no wall that could survive the force of how much I have fallen in love with you. My family is vicious. They will find a way to strip your license if they can. Don’t risk it. Don’t call. Phone records can be traced.
I left most of my things because I am coming back.
Love, Cat
Chapter thirty-eight
Reese
The first night apart…
Iwalk into my apartment and it is silent, empty, cold. Cat is gone. My phone rings and it’s my mother. Cat and I didn’t even talk about what to tell her. I answer the line and walk to the bar, and pour a stout drink, as I begin telling her everything.
“I don’t even know what to say,” she breathes out. “Yes, I do. She really loves you or she’d still be there, as backwards as that sounds. She’s worried about protecting you. She should be and you’re worried about—”
“Losing her.”
“You won’t. She loves you. That is so obvious. The kind of love a mother wants for all of her children.” She laughs bitterly. “And herself. Go solve this. You can. Focus. Do. Get your woman back.”
When we end that call, I’m reminded of how strong my mother is apart from my father, just not with him. Cat is strong with or without me. I need her to be strong without me now, and keep that damn wall down. I refill my glass before heading up the stairs. I walk into the bedroom and spot the note on her pillow. Adrenaline surges through me and I down the whiskey before I pick up it up to read: I wish I was right HERE right NOW. “Me too, sweetheart,” I murmur, before lifting the second piece of paper. I sit down and read it, emotions punching through me.
She’s coming back. I hope like fuck she still says that when this is over.
I consider buying disposable phones and sending her one. We could talk, but she will ask questions and worry about every move I make. I have to do what I have to do to ensure her family doesn’t ruin me and us. I need a level head, not an emotional one.
Cat
With my MacBook in my lap, I sit on my bed among the pink pillows, under the pink comforter that used to feel like my bed. It doesn’t anymore. I consider going to my family but if I do, I risk exposing my personal feelings for Reese. I could put a target on his back or at least paint it a little larger.
No.
I can’t go to my family. I can’t go to Reese. I just have to lay here in pink frilly everything and do nothing. An idea hits me. I don’t have to stop talking to Reese. I can send him a message in every column I write. One line. Something small. I stare at the column I’ve just completed, which is a piece about a recent police shooting. I look at the final few lines of my closing and rework them.
In a world where the lines between peace and war seem to have fallen, I suggest that we don’t seek to widen those lines. We look to erase all that divides us. And we can’t do that by blaming each other. We can’t do that by letting the press tell our story. We the people must come together and let no one else tell our story. We must tell our own story. Until then —Cat
