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Her eyes were glassy, and as she lowered them, a single tear trickled down her face. That’s when I realized what I’d done. That was the old Ryan saying that stuff to her. The ain’t-shit Ryan. Ain’t-shit Ryan didn’t exist on the same plane as Angela, and up until that moment, I thought he couldn’t exist in her presence. But somehow, his stupid ass had popped up, and now Angela’s Ryan was left to deal with the consequences.
She slightly shook her head and looked back up at me, her eyes now full of tears. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.
“Baby,” I said softly, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. It’s just…I had a bad day. I told you now wasn’t a good time to talk about this.”
She raised her eyebrows and wiped her eyes with the hem of her t-shirt. “So this is my fault?”
“No…no, baby. That’s not what I meant. Baby, I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? I don’t know how to deal with shit like this…”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to go. Just go, Ryan.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked, actually perplexed at the thought of leaving her. What was I supposed to do with the hours between now and when I had to be back at work besides spend them with her, laughing, talking, eating, making love…
She shrugged. “I don’t care. You just need to go. If you don’t, I will. But I don’t wanna see your face. I don’t wanna hear your voice. I just want you to get the fuck out of my house.”
My heart squeezed in my chest and for a full five minutes, all I could do was stand there staring at her.
She finally shook her head and left the living room. I followed her until she entered the bathroom and slammed the door in my face, screaming from the other side, “Ryan, go!”
So I left.
I went back to work. Couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I would’ve gone to a bar to drink my sorrow away, but if anyone had even said hi to me, I probably would’ve cursed them out. I didn’t want to be around people unless they were named Angela Strickland. And I had fucked up so royally with her, that was out of the question. As I sat in my dark office in the empty hotel that smelled of paint and wood and cardboard, I told myself this was for the best. I wasn’t wired for this relationship stuff. Trying to navigate the world of monogamy was like rocket science to me. I was bound to mess things up with her. I was kidding myself trying to be in a committed relationship. Whoever I was with her wasn’t really me anyway.
I shook my head at my own stupidity. Sitting there in the dark over a damn woman. I didn’t do shit like this. What I needed was to get ahold of myself and take my ass somewhere and find me another woman, a good one-night-stand partner, someone I could screw with no attachments. Yeah, that was exactly what I needed, some random, no-strings-attached pussy.
I snatched my keys up from my desk, and said to myself, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”
33
I don’t know why I pushed him. I could tell he was stressed, a state I’d never seen him in before. Ryan was laid back, happy, intense when it came to intimacy, but stressed? Never. So why had I pushed him?
Because I wanted to know what the future held. Because the possibility of us ending when his job did always resided in the back of my mind. Because I loved him, loved him fiercely, and the idea of losing someone I loved that much scared me to death.
So I asked.
The timing couldn’t have been more wrong, but I asked. And he said what he said, breaking my heart, shattering it beyond repair. I thought I’d had my heart broken before by Benny and Khalil, but those were only little scratches. Ryan had actually split my heart in two, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever recover.
I sat on my bathroom floor, on the ice blue rug, hugging my knees with tears flooding my cheeks. I shouldn’t have ever started up with him, but if I hadn’t, I would’ve never known what it felt like to love him, and I wouldn’t trade having loved him for anything in the world. I was hurt, but I wanted him back.
But it was too late for that. It was over. He’d said so. So that made it law, because he was Ryan Boyé, and Ryan Boyé was a man who always got what he wanted, including me. I was his to throw away, and he’d thrown me away.
And it was my fault.
I should’ve just listened to him, offered some support, screwed him, anything other than starting a damn argument. And maybe I shouldn’t have told him to leave.
I shook my head as I lay on my side and hugged myself. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep on the bathroom floor.
*****
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a bumping sound awakened me. I was sure it was late, but I’d left my phone somewhere in my apartment and I didn’t have a watch on. I sat up, tried to get my bearings and blink away the pounding headache that made it hard to think.
The bumping sound returned, and I recognized it as knocking. Someone, most likely Ryan, was knocking on the bathroom door. Almost reflexively, I reached to unlock it, then remembered what was said, what he’d said, and drew my hand back.
“Angie!” he called through the door. “Angela?! Are you still in there?”
I just sat there with my eyes on the door, unable to answer him.
“Look, I know you don’t wanna talk to me or see me, but if you’re in there, would you say something? Are you okay?”
