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Is that the reason he asked to meet me? To ask me the question I’ve been asking myself for nearly a decade? Nine years. It took nine years, a drunk text, and his brother to
make him ask me that question. It’s too late. God, it should’ve been too late years ago.
“Do you?” I ask, because maybe I owe it to my past self to finally have the answer.
“Yeah,” he says. “Recently, yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
How is it possible that I’m bone-tired and exhausted, but also that years’ worth of weight has been lifted off my shoulders at the same time? To be relieved and disappointed at the same time?
“Just recently?” I ask. “You hadn’t… thought about it at all before you and Alice broke up?”
“I mean”—he shifts in his seat—“I’ve never really had to. I thought being with Alice was the right choice. That we were perfect for each other, even if sometimes our relationship wasn’t,” he goes on, but I’ve already checked out. I have my answer, and it’s the least surprising conclusion.
I’m his second choice.
I’m the girl he sidelined for the better choice. Now that the better choice is gone, he’s got me all lined up and ready to go. But this isn’t all on him. It’s on me for ever giving him the idea that I’d be okay with this. There’s nothing left to be guilty over, but the shame remains. And oh, it burns me from the inside out.
“… but you were always there for me.” I’ve missed most of what he’s said, but I return my attention at this last part. “Anytime I needed you, you’ve always been there for me. No judgment, no complaint. You were always the person who stayed. And I know there were a lot of times when I took that for granted.” No kidding. “And I’m sorry for that. God, Marcela, I’m so unbelievably sorry for that. But know that words can’t express how much I appreciate you.” He reaches out his hand as if to grasp mine. He hesitates at the last moment, from whatever expression must be on my face. “What’s wrong? Was it—was what I said not okay?”
“I’m such an idiot.” The words burst free of their own volition. My eyes shut, because I can’t even bear to look at him for a second longer. “God, I’m a complete and total idiot. And you have no idea.”
“Marcela—”
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” Or maybe he does. Why now? I laugh humorlessly. “Years, Ben. Actual years, I’ve sat and waited for you to change your mind. And it never would’ve happened if I hadn’t fallen in love with your brother.”
There’s that word again. Love. And here I am for the second time, telling someone who isn’t Theo how I feel. But I can’t focus on that right now, or the utter astonishment on Ben’s face.
“That’s not the point.” I redirect my focus on Ben. On the anger brimming just below the surface. “But let’s go back in time and think about it. Why did you think we were better off as friends?”
“I don’t know,” he says, but there’s something in his face that makes me not believe him. “It was so long ago. But I knew you were someone I wanted in my life. The emotional connection we had back then, you don’t find that anywhere. It’s rare.”
“But it wasn’t enough.” At least, it wasn’t for him. “Why is that?”
“I guess I just didn’t see us that way at the time,” he says, and there it is. It almost doesn’t matter we were together that way for weeks. Why would it, when the whole time he didn’t see it? See me the same way I saw him? It’s the same coded shit I used to get all the time from guys I met on dating apps. I tricked myself into believing he was different from those men, that the connection we’d formed was stronger than that. That it actually meant something to both of us, even if we didn’t work out romantically. But the only reason we didn’t work is because he decided that we didn’t.
“You didn’t ‘see us that way,’” I repeat, practically spitting the words in an effort not to scream. “You mean you didn’t see me that way. Physically.”
“I was stupid,” he says. “I didn’t appreciate the connection we had at the time. I thought we worked better as friends.”
“You thought you could do better, but you wanted me around just in case,” I translate.
“You never said anything.” His face colors with embarrassment. I know I’m right on the mark because he can’t look me in the eyes anymore. “I thought you agreed with me.”
No, I never did tell him how I felt. Partly because I was too humiliated to have been so off base, and partly because I thought if I kept him in my life, he’d change his mind. I didn’t want closure, but I needed it. Desperately.
“Let me ask you something, then.” I straighten my shoulders. “How could you regret that we didn’t give it a fair shot if you were never attracted to me in the first place? Is this some kind of game to you, or are you just that scared to be alone?”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer.
“You kept me on the hook, leaned on me when you couldn’t lean on anyone else. And then, you got with Alice.” His shoulders lower the longer I keep talking. “You made me your second choice. I am so sick of waiting around for you, Ben. No one is worth waiting ten years for. Absolutely no one, and least of all you.”
He sits back in his seat, mouth falling open.
“I never meant to make you a second choice,” he says.
A wave of frustration crests over me. “Then why am I here?” I’m too mad to feel embarrassed when heads from the table next to us turn to stare. “Alice left you, and suddenly you want to reminisce about the past? What do you think you’re making me now? It’s too late, Ben.”
“Because of Theo.” His mouth twists. “Because you think you’re in love with him?”
