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“Well, you should,” I snap. “If it were true. You should stay far away from any asshole who would do something like that.”
She just stares at me like I’ve gone insane, and the rage within me surges. What the hell is wrong with this girl?
I take a breath, not wanting to scare her any further. I’m much bigger than her, and even if I can’t wait to get away, it isn’t cool to make her afraid.
“Look,” I say with forced calm. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s wrong. Yes, that was the girl, and yes we broke up. But it was a mutual decision.”
I wince a bit with that one, but it isn’t really a lie. Anna didn’t want a relationship, and I couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t the only thing I wanted.
“She’s a nice girl. And it makes me sick that people would think otherwise.”
Wide-eyed Shannon nods as if her life depends on it. She’s clutching her arms over her chest. I put that fear in her, and guilt clenches my stomach.
“I’ve got to go. Sorry.” I’m not sure what else I can say. I just need to get out of here.
By the time I get home and manage to turn on my laptop, my hands are shaking. Nausea rolls around in my stomach as a TikTok search for my name pulls up millions of views. And there they are in endless posts of malicious glee. Speculation on why I was arguing with a curvaceous redhead. Hate-filled comments about Anna that make my heart ache and my blood boil. But it is nothing compared to the videos.
There I am, looming over Anna, who looks so tiny in comparison. I’m a monster with muscles bulging and a vein sticking out on my temple.
I’ve never felt so ashamed. Anna’s pale, her chin lifting in defiance. That I remember. But I never saw the aftermath. There’s one of me walking away, humiliating because it captures my own pain. My face is twisted with it. And then one of Anna.
She’s leaning against the tree, clutching her arms around her middle, her gorgeous eyes looking up toward the sky as if it holds some answer. Pain etches her features.
With shaking fingers, I nearly touch the screen. Pain that mirrors my own.
Have I done the wrong thing by ending it with Anna? Does it matter? She’s currently on a date with Mr. Yuck. And I can’t overlook the fact that she was right. One public argument with me has brought the ugliness of public opinion down upon her head. I never wanted that for her. After reading through the hateful comments, how can I blame her reluctance to be seen with me?
For the first time in my life, I dread going out on the field and playing again. Because they’re all watching for the wrong reasons.
twenty-nine
Anna
I’m so grateful for the fall break I could cry. Not only will it spare me from having to face Drew in class, but I need to get away. For the first time in years, my mother’s home is a haven to which I want to run as fast as I can.
Better still, I won’t have to see Terrance when I get there. Last month, when my mom voiced second thoughts on selling her childhood home, Terrance went ballistic, telling her that she had no right to keep them from their dream by being a coward. Mom realized that it wasn’t her dream, but his. Two weeks later, old Terry was sailing off to the Bahamas with his chow chow’s groomer.
Thanksgiving dinner is subdued. Mom often invites people to spend it with us, single friends, those who couldn’t make it home to families of their own. When I was younger, I would protest because I didn’t want to share her with other grownups. Not when I only saw my working mother at dinner.
As I got older, I grew to appreciate the sound of laughter and interesting conversation during those meals. Unfortunately, this year, my mom hasn’t invited anyone. I know it’s because they’ll ask about Terrance, and the breakup is too fresh for Mom to deal. I empathize. Entirely. Only I’d rather have the distraction. Now it’s just Mom and me. And a quiet house.
We cook together, and I try to find something to talk about. Conversation usually isn’t a problem, but since the only thing I want to do is curl up in bed and cry, I’m finding it a struggle.
My mother fills the void and talks. About her practice. About her friend Silvia, who she thinks might be depressed. About the new moisturizer she’s found and loves to pieces. And it’s fine. If only this aching, gnawing hole within me would fill up with each bite of food I take, instead of growing larger. If only I’d feel warm instead of cold. My walls are no longer shored up. I could topple at any moment. Right onto my mom’s plush Turkish carpet.
Dessert, as always, is taken in the living room, while tucked up in front of the fire on the old chesterfield sofa that Mom had reupholstered last year in cream linen. In the frenzy of redecorating, Mom also converted the wood-burning fireplace into gas, and though the flames dance and look cheery, I miss the scent of burning wood.
Drew’s house has a wood-burning fireplace. I picture him kneeling before it, stacking wood and getting the tinder ready. Is he there now? Is he with Gray? God, I hope so. The idea of Drew being alone makes my heart physically hurt. I take an extra-large bite of pumpkin cheesecake and try not to choke on it.
“What is going on with you, Anna?”
I nearly jump in my seat. I hadn’t noticed Mom studying me. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. Even if she doesn’t always act like she’s paying attention, she usually is.
I run the tines of my fork through the burnished cheesecake. I could evade, divert attention, but telling the truth is the quickest way with Mom. Like ripping off an especially sticky bandage. “I broke up with someone.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, sweetheart.”
My fork stabs deep.
