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“You do matter,” my voice cracks, showing my weakness. “You matter to me. I’m sorry I ran. I know it wasn’t right of me. If I could take it back, I would. You just caught me off guard. You know I don’t like surprises. But I’m sorry that I hurt you. That was never my intention.” Dropping my eyes to the floor, the guilt settles in my stomach. No matter how much I don't want to marry him, or anyone for that matter, I don't like hurting people.
“Well, fuck me for trying to surprise you by proposing! That’s a normal fucking thing, Liza! People do that all the time and guess what? Real women handle it just fine,” he spits. I wince at his words and close my eyes, trying to ground myself.
“I know…” I choke out. There's no since in arguing. There never is with him. You just take it and wait for it to be over.
“You know,” he scoffs. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
Looking at Jett, I shrug. “I already explained myself. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“So that’s just it? You get to completely embarrass me in front of everyone I know, ignore me for over an entire day, then just give me some lame excuse for your behavior and I have to accept it? Well, the joke is on you now, Elizabeth. I refuse to be made to look like an idiot.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” Things need to end, but I figured there would be more of a discussion. That's what adults do. They talk things out and make peace with each other. This feels like a punishment. Like I'm a child again.
“What choice do I have? Do you know how pathetic it would look to take you back after you ran off on me?”
“I accepted your proposal, Jett. There’s no taking me back if we are still together.” Why do I sound like I’m pleading with him to stay together? I don't want my options taken from me. I want to have a fucking say in what happens in my life.
“No, Liza, we are not. We could have been. I could have given you a wonderful life. But you had to go ruin it for the both of us.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I refuse to anymore weakness. “I’m sorry. I wish you knew how sorry I am.”
He stares at me, and my heart jackhammers even harder in my chest. Fuck. I can’t afford to have a panic attack right now. I’ve never let him see me have one and I refuse for today to be the first time.
“Come to bed with me.”
“What?” He can't be fucking serious.
“You say you’re sorry… prove it,” he shrugs, face made of stone.
“You want me to make it up to you… by sleeping with you?” The thought alone makes me nauseous. Who propositions someone like that?
“Listen, I’m not begging you. This is a onetime offer. You can either prove to me that you mean what you say, or you can get the fuck out of my house.”
“You’re not going to let me get my things?”
Silence.
I don’t know whether to be sickened or saddened. It’s disgusting that he wants me to prove myself to him with my body. Sad that he can so easily throw me out if I don’t. And what kind of choice is that? Reducing my worth only by what I do in the bedroom, or kissing my comfort goodbye?
“I’d like to freshen up.” Sleeping with him is the last thing I want to do, but I can't say no right now or I’d be thrown out in seconds. I need time to get my thoughts in order.
His eyes soften a small degree, but there is still something in them that has the hairs on my arms standing on end. “You do that. I'll be right here.” A simple statement, but it feels more like a threat.
I turn hastily to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognize a single thing about myself. My auburn hair feels like a wig. My blue eyes are judging me. And my pale skin is suffocating. The disconnection between body and soul are nothing foreign to me. Although it's been a long time since I had to reign in this much panic. The kind that feels completely out of my hands. Like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, it's going to pull me under in the end.
How had things gotten to this point? I went from being so sure of myself, so sure of what I wanted out of life, and never questioning myself, to having my almost fiancé asking for sex to prove that I’m sorry. Old me wouldn’t have let Jett think this was even an option. Hell, old me would have left him a long time ago. Somewhere along the way, I lost my spirit in need of comfort. Now, the thought of losing any amount of that comfort feels like being pushed off a cliff. Just like when I was a kid.
That isn’t reality, though. I am on flat ground, no cliff in sight. Maybe metaphorically, but metaphors never killed anybody. I close my eyes and place my palms on the cold countertop. In for four, out for four. I repeat it until the static in my veins goes away. When I can finally expand my lungs fully, my eyes open. Looking at myself once more, I stand and straighten my shoulders, take the ring off my finger, and place it on the counter.
This ends now.
5
“Hey! Libby? It’s ok, everything is going to be ok.” Blake is rubbing my arm, but I feel far away. “Libby, look at me, sweetie. Are you ok? Do you need anything?” I can't respond. I can barely comprehend that she’s even talking, let alone absorb what she is saying. My hands are shaking, my breathing is uneven, and my head is spinning. The panic is all-consuming.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her this way before. Hold on. Libby, honey, can you hear me?” I feel pressure on my wrist. “She’s not talking. No. She’s just staring off. Her pulse is really fast, but I don’t know what’s going on. She just showed up at my apartment and hasn’t spoken a word. I didn’t know who else to call. Yeah, I know. I’m just kind of freaking out here. She’s comfortable with you. Listen, I don’t like you very much right now, but I just need help.”
I feel like I’m in a twilight zone listening to her on the phone. I’m not sure how I ended up at Blake’s. One minute I was in my bathroom, the next I'm on her bathroom floor. I can’t breathe. My whole body is numb. My mind is dark, and I have no concept of time or space. I’m in a full-blown panic attack. It’s so heavy; too heavy to stay above it.
