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“Yes. I did you a favor. Worrying over me wouldn’t have made your life any better.”
She stops and looks at me, and I swear if eyes could burn that I would be on fire. “Do you really think that I didn’t grieve after you fucking disappeared? I had no idea what happened to you until word got out about the note that you left your dad. So if you wanted to spare me pain, then you seriously missed the mark. And who the fuck do you think you are, choosing what’s best for me? That’s not what couples do, Wallace. Couples talk about what they need and what they’re worried about and then they decide what to do together. God, what arrogance!”
I’m stunned into silence for a second. “What?”
“I’m sorry, was I not clear?”
I shake my head. “Tia, I was doing what I thought was best for you.”
“And I never asked you to do what was best for me. I can decide for myself what’s best for me. You were my boyfriend, not my parent. I can’t believe I waited all this time for such bullshit. You’re selfish and arrogant and I can’t even look at you. Get out.”
I gape at her as she points off the roof, but she doesn’t move, and the fury shows even more on her face when I don’t move. “Get the fuck out of my house, Wallace.”
“Tia—”
“Go. I’m done.”
I climb down onto the balcony, still stunned. That’s not what I expected. I should stop expecting things, because so far not one of the interactions I’ve had with Tia in the last week have been what I expected. And tonight, after being together and finally feeling like things were moving forward, this feels …devastating.
The rest of my clothes are on the floor of her bedroom and my shoes are in the living room. Picking up my clothes and leaving hers there feels like a betrayal, an knife in the gut.
I’m not sure what to do. I was so sure that telling her what happened, why I did it, that she would understand. That she would say it was okay. That maybe we could go back and try to start again. I really, really fucked that up.
I get into my car and I see that she’s still sitting on the roof. Nothing but a silhouette in the darkening night. Before I’m even pulling out of the driveway, I’ve got my cellphone out and am dialing. “I need to talk to you. Meet you at First Shot.”
7
Tia
I don’t know how long I sit out on the roof. Until my eyes seem like they’re burning into the darkness. I can’t believe I let myself get that close to him again for that. I can’t believe I thought that it would be something groundbreaking. Something that would make the last years of my life hurt any less. But no. It was Wallace being an arrogant prick.
Who the hell does he think he is? How is thinking that he’s saving me pain any of his goddamn business?
Screw this.
I throw my beer can off the roof and into the dark. That beer is probably the last thing that we’ll ever share together, and I’m doing my best to ignore the way that tugs at my chest. He didn’t come back. I wouldn’t have let him if he tried, but still, seeing him drive away ripped me apart. Who knows, maybe this is what I would have felt if he had said goodbye, watching him leave and not knowing when I’d ever see him again. In this case, I know that I’m going to have to see him tomorrow. Which isn’t ideal.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m done. I have to be done. I can’t carry this tiny hope and this furious anger. I’ve spent too many years wondering why and thinking about what might have been. That’s what Wallace really got wrong. He thought that by leaving he was freeing me to live my own life. But what he really did was bind me to him. Make sure that no matter what happened, I’d always wonder what could have happened if things had gone a little differently.
And now he has everything. Money and popularity, and he swept back into my life looking to take me back. I let him have me. He got what he wanted.
Well, enough is enough. I’ve got a good job, and eventually I’ll take over the company. I’ll start dating again. I’ll find someone that will fill the hole that Wallace left, and then after that, maybe I’ll be able to move on. I shove down any feelings to the contrary. Because I don’t care.
I definitely don’t care that being with him felt like coming home. Almost like I’d never left. I don’t care that watching him walking away feels like déjà vu, the grief threatening to swallow me. I don’t care that the thought of walking away feels like something that I can never do. I don’t care.
