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“Yup.”
“Did she have boots on at the time?”
“No. Ballet flats.”
“Huh,” he says. “Pretty baller move, when you think about it.”
“Right? You can see why I’m gutted,” I say.
We’re sitting on the beach, having just spent a good chunk of the morning surfing. Yesterday, when I got home, I wasn’t ready to talk about Allie. I told Gersh I was too wiped to even think, so we spent the entire evening watching basketball while Oscar snuggled up next to me on the sofa. Gersh only asked once if I was okay, to which I replied, “I will be. Someday.” He nodded and said, “I’m here when you want to talk about her.”
When I woke this morning, I immediately got into my wetsuit and made the most of the waves, hoping that doing my favorite thing in the world (well, favorite thing I can do without her) would take my mind off how horribly I fucked up. It didn’t. Instead, I felt totally dead inside even though the waves were perfect.
“Why didn’t you just deny it?”
“Because lying isn’t exactly conducive to a healthy relationship,” I answer.
“Yeah, but it’s not really lying. It’s not like you were grossed out by her or something. You wanted to kiss her, right?”
I watch as a wave rolls into shore. “Of course I did. I also wanted to have sex with her up at Black Creek, but in both cases, I was also desperate to hide my dyslexia from her, so I did exactly what she accused me of doing—making a move to avoid the truth.” Shaking my head, I say, “Honestly, it was the worst thing I could do to someone like her. I made her feel used and … unworthy, and she’s had a history of guys who have already done that to her.”
“But you didn’t use her, and you’re not the one who hurt her in the first place, so don’t start taking responsibility for shit you didn’t do,” Gersh tells me.
“But I am responsible,” I say, picking up a rock and tossing it toward the water. It doesn’t make it far enough and bounces on the sand. “She told me when I first met her what the line was, and I crossed it over and over. Hell, I danced over it like a total idiot, thinking she’d never figure it out.”
“Like ninety-nine percent of women would never have put that together.”
“Hmm, I think you’re underestimating the fairer sex there, but yeah, most of the women I’ve dated certainly wouldn’t have.” I chew on my lip for a second. “That’s the problem with falling for a genius.”
“I could see it having its drawbacks.”
“Yeah, if you’re a total fuck up.”
“You’re not a fuck up.” Gersh gets up and grabs his board, and I know it’s time for us to get ready for a meeting with Paul and Brittany. “As usual, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You made a mistake.”
Standing up, I grab my board. “I made the same mistake multiple times and totally blew her trust, and the thing is, Gersh, she was the one for me. We had so much fun together, and I could talk to her, you know? Like, really talk to her. And I wanted to know everything about her. And when I was with her, I could just be myself. Well, mostly. Obviously I was holding back, but when she figured out I have dyslexia, she managed to make me feel good about it. Can you even imagine that? Me feeling good about something I’ve been ashamed of my entire life?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Well, somehow she did it. She talked about it being a superpower instead of a problem.”
“Shit, man,” he says, as we walk across the beach. “If only our parents could’ve made you feel like that. It would have saved you so much heartache.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t,” I answer. “But it was my job to get over it. I’m almost forty, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be acting like a child, hiding all the time.”
“Cut yourself some slack. You had nearly forty years of them programming you to be ashamed of yourself. That would be hard for anyone to get past.”
“Please don’t make excuses for me,” I tell him. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but honestly, I need to own this. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to change.”
“Okay,” he answers, as we get to the stairs leading up to the house. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Stop fucking hiding.”
Paul and Brittany sit at my dining room table with their mouths agape. I just told them everything, and now I’m waiting for them to respond. This conversation has been one of the hardest fucking things I’ve done. I broke out in a cold sweat as soon as they showed up at the house. When I started talking, I could barely get the words out, but I forced myself to do it, knowing that this is the first step in becoming the man I should’ve been for Allie. And I know it’s over, but there’s a tiny part of me that is hoping that if I can show her I’ve changed, that she’ll give me another chance.
Brittany closes her mouth first, then says, “You’ve always had it?”
Oh God, this sucks. Nodding, I say, “It’s something you’re born with.”
