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I ran and ran. I pushed myself harder than I ever had and when I made it back to my street, I couldn’t tell if the reason I felt shaky was because of that or because Dexter was sitting on my porch.
As I jogged up, I couldn’t help my relief at having left my ring inside. It was gaudy and all wrong. Nothing I’d pick for myself.
But having to wear something you usually wouldn’t was a chance you took when you decided to marry someone who didn’t carry the biggest piece of your soul in theirs.
I knew Dexter was there to pick up Dylan. I also knew I’d forgotten to tell him that Miranda took him last night. My brain was frazzled and all I wanted was an afternoon with paint. In my panties and a T-shirt. To give my grief to my passion. To let something else carry my emotional weight, even if only for a few hours.
“Dylan’s with Miranda. He should be back tonight,” I said, trying not to sound winded and unsure—but failing at both.
“I know. Miranda called.” He hadn’t gotten up from the stoop, and he angled his head to stare up at me.
The morning sun blasted behind me despite the crisp morning and one of his eyes was closed. The other was squinting, but the blue of his iris looked more like a gem. Stone. So cold.
I nodded and brought my hand up to wipe the sweat from my brow. He caught the action in his stare and blinked away. I glanced down and realized I’d used my left hand. He’d been looking for my absent ring.
“Do you, um, want to—” I gestured toward the house and he nodded before standing.
He was too close as I fumbled with the key I’d tucked into the small waistband pocket of my running capris. I unlocked the door and shoved at it, heading straight to the fridge for water.
He was right behind me. “Are we going to talk about the message?”
“It’s seven in the morning. You want to do thisnow?” Sweat ran down my back and I took a gulp of water.
“I’ll take what I can get. Time isn’t what’s important here.” He leaned against the counter across from me.
“Isn’t it always?” I was skirting the issue. Something I never used to do. Something I hated other people doing.
“Fucking stop already, Noa. Talk to me,” he snapped.
“I’m not mentally prepared to talk about the things that came out of your mouth. Especially when I know you likely didn’t even mean them.” I pulled off my running shoes and kicked them under the kitchen table before grabbing a hand towel to wipe my sweat away.
All the while, Dexter watched me.
When I went to walk past him, he grabbed the towel and yanked me to him. “If you can’t handle me, that’s fine. But don’t brush off the things I say to you. Just because you’ve moved on doesn’t mean I have,” he said. Then he let me go and walked out, shutting the door firmly behind him.
I was alone when I finally said out loud what I would’ve said in response to his voicemail. Had we been face-to-face. Had it been our time. “I’m sorry that I can’t help but ruin you for anyone else. I’m sorry I always fuck everything up.”
Then I grabbed an empty vase from the table and chucked it across the room.
It shattered against the slate gray wall.
Noa
“I have to leave, Tim,”I said as I placed the dirty frying pan in the sink. “I can’t stay here anymore.”
“Don’t leave because of him.” He set his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
I didn’t bother to deny it. I’d lied to Tim about many things, but I promised myself I would never do it again. He was all I had now.
“If I stay, I’ll end up like Ma. You know it.” I turned with the dish towel in my hands. “I need a chance to see what I can do—outside of this shit hole.”
He pushed his plate away and dropped his head in his hands. “I know I wasn’t always a good role model. I fucked up a lot. I made life a hell of a lot harder. Sometimes I forgot to love you, treated you like a burden.”
I sat across from him. “That isn’t what this is about.”
“Yeah, but I have to say it. Lo siento.”
We looked at each other, our eyes unflinching.
