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Her words hurt, because I had been using her, but then everything changed. I don’t want to be a user, taking up her life, forcing her to fit perfectly without valuing her as her own person.
Heather grabs her things and makes her way to the door.
“Let me call you a cab,” I say, wanting to prolong her staying here.
“No Baxter, you don’t get to play the hero in any situation, not now, now ever.”
“But—”
“No buts Baxter. Back in college I never pressed for more from you because I knew you were too shallow to commit to a real relationship.”
Her words stung. “I can commit now.”
“No, Baxter, you’re still trying to please your father and mother instead of living your own life.”
“I don’t understand what I should have done.”
“Well, accusing me of something without asking and hearing me out isn’t how to do it. A real conversation without you blaming me would have been better.”
I swallow because she’s right. I accused her of doing this thing, acting like it was bad without hearing her side of the story.
Heather opens the door to the hall and outside then walks out. I move to follow, but she turns and shakes her head, her eyes narrow to slits, as she dares me to follow. I have nothing to say, other than I am sorry, which doesn't seem to be enough.
I’ve messed up everything. I don’t even have a defense. I can’t recover from this. I’ve lost the only person who has ever mattered.
