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It’s almost enough to make me stay and tell the voice growing louder in my head to shut the fuck up. That I can endure this for them.
But then I remember that he only offers me his full attention when I’ve asked for it too many times, or when something’s wrong. He doesn’t tell me he loves me first anymore, doesn’t hug me from behind the way he used to, nuzzling my neck with affection.
If honesty is the best policy, damn it, I’m doing the best I can. I’ve stayed this long for the kids. But are they benefitting from an unhappy mother?
The guilt of staying with Peter because he stayed with me is eating me alive.
And no matter what anyone else thinks, it stings to be the person who leaves. To be the one who’s tearing their world apart.
I can’t give myself a life of lukewarm love that doesn’t yank me from my soul anymore. And as much as I tried in the six, almost seven years we’ve been married, I can’t stay. Not when I’ve experienced something so potent it still pulls me by my fucking teeth.
The weight of having seen Abraham, even over a month ago, followed me around all day, and I find myself closing my eyes to experience it again.
Or maybe to hide from it.
But the giddy warmth of existing in the same space as him is impossible to deny. And the romantic in me, the one I’d held a funeral for, jolts to life.
Am I one of the last romantics inthiscity?
Unsure, I fall back into a time where I was allowed to be imperfect.
CHAPTER FOUR
I DON’T CARE
PAST
“How’syiayia?” I ask my little sister, keeping my phone pressed to my ear so I don’t miss her response as I make my way through a group of people crowding the campus main office.
I didn’t think this summer semester would be busy because it never really is, but it seems like more students desire to live and breathe the New York City life all year round. I just want to hurry up and graduate so I don’t have to keep worrying about the dwindling amount of money in my savings account.
“I haven’t talked to her,” Denise answers, and I have to bite down the urge to call her out for being an asshole.
“She isn’t getting any older,” I offer instead.
“Or any wiser, apparently,” she mutters, knowing that if I were next to her, I’d pop her one good time.
“Don’t be a fucking asshole.” A few people glance at me and I pull my phone away from my ear. “What?” I ask them, my eyes wide and my patience already thin. Having to deal with drunk Miley the night before as she puked into the early morning was not my idea of a good time.
When they turn away, I press my phone back against my ear in time to hear my sister’s response.
“Takes one to know one.”
“You do realize I’m not too far from Boston to come knock some sense into you, right?” I threaten, spotting Miley’s flirtatious grin from across the street. How she had the energy to flirt, let alone be standing upright, is beyond me. But her nineteen to my twenty-one felt like eons sometimes.
I took my time and saved up before I came here. I didn’t date and didn’t fuck around, deciding neither were worth losing focus over. Just before I graduated, I finally gave my virginity to a guy who’d been pursuing me pretty heavily for years. While it lacked fireworks, he was sweet and we did it a few more times before I left and never looked back.
Here, the dating pool is more like a kiddie pool. Overcrowded and full of piss. I’ve gained a little more sexual experience, but nothing to brag about.
“Promises, promises,” she tells me before letting me know she has to get ready for work.
“Call me tomorrow, okay?” I try to remind her, but she’s already hung up the phone. I hitch my bag over my shoulder as I look both ways, crossing the street to check on Miley before my second class of the day. The guy she was talking to is nowhere to be found and she’s scrolling through her phone when I approach her.
“Bitch, how are you alive?” I give her a once-over and she smiles, her lips together and her eyes squinting up at me. Her makeup is flawless, not a dark circle in sight, not a blemish to be seen.
“Oh, to be young again,” is all she says, and I roll my eyes.
“Keep it up and you’ll be buying your own liquor from now on,” I warn her.
