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“No. I am. And maybe I shouldn’t be—because you’re right; it was my decision—but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like you had something to do with it. You were right there. You only had to say one thing, and youwantedto say it.” Her frustration was turning to tears, and she didn’t want that.
“You could haveasked. I didn’t know what you wanted. Guess what? Not a fucking mind reader. You can’t put this on me, because I’m not the only one who kept their mouth shut.”
“But you saw things I didn’t.” This was ridiculous and childish, and that didn’t stop her from feeling that way. Now was her chance to get it all out.
“And I tried to point them out to you.” His voice rose in volume, and he winced. “Fine. Let’s do this your way. Let’s dive back into the past and pretend things went different, though we can’t fucking change anything. I said,No, Bailey. Don’t marry him. I love you more. And you said,Oh, really? Me too.”
The words she would have given anything for then sounded harsh and cold now. She wanted him to take it back. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what? Face reality? I just want one more minute. Then we’re done. How does it go from there? I leave for college; that was the plan. I’d ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend. We’d date long distance. But it didn’t have to play out that way. You could join me. Go to UC Berkeley. Except it’s not that easy. You’d have to wait a year to start, because you hadn’t applied yet, and you might as stay here and save up. That’s what you tell me. Email makes it easy to stay in touch, but I’msofar away.
“And then the next asshole comes along, and I haven’t saidI love younearly enough, because I’m on the other side of the fucking country and college is hard. So one day, your message to me says,It’s over. I’m marrying Billy Bob.Which still brings us back to where we are, and it’s still not my fucking fault you exercised poor judgment.”
She didn’t know if the fake past made her more hurt or furious. “Now I know how you really feel about my ability to think for myself.”
“That’s not me. That’syou. If it’s my fault you made shitty decisions, that never changes. I’m sorry life sucked with Danny. No one deserves that, and I’d give anything for you to not have gone through it, but I can’t change the decisions I made. I thought I was doing the right thing. The same way you did.”
“No one’s to blame, then. Fantastic.” She stood and brushed past him. “Conversation’s over. Life goes on.”
He grabbed her arm. “It’s not over, because you’re still pissed off, and nothing’s been resolved.”
“Sometimes things don’t get fixed.” She forced herself to meet his gaze and wrenched herself free from his grip. “But I’ve got a solution. We get back to work. As soon as the roads open, you go home and we never speak again. That’s how this plays out, right? Because I’m so bad at making up my mind, and you sure as hell don’t want to be here. So we pretend to gloss this over, according to your magical powers of perception, and it still aches inside and we never really forgive or forget. I’ll still be fickle, and you’ll still be a callous asshole who loves numbers more than people.”
None of the words sounded right in her head, but she was too hurt and angry to take them back. Now the things she tried to convince herself she didn’t mean were on the table. When it came down to it, she did mean them.
He didn’t adopt that stupid blank mask of his. One thing to be grateful for. Instead, hurt and fury reflected back at her from his dark eyes. “Sounds perfect. How about that? We agree after all.” Hard lines creased his forehead, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll be in my room, throwing things out. You do... whatever it is you do.”
She had to clench her jaw, to keep from saying anything else when he stepped around her. She couldn’t spit out an apology, because everything was too raw for her to mean it. If she opened her mouth, more half-thought-out notions would slip out. Things that weren’t true, but parts of her held onto with ferocity. She no longer had to worry about it aching when they parted ways. The pain could start now, and be a numb throb in a few days.
*
JONATHAN STRUGGLEDto find reason through the haze of anger clouding his thoughts. This was worse than being drunk. It was also a fantastic reminder of why he let work take priority over personal relationships. He made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of trash bags. When Bailey’s soft, gasping sob landed against his back, he refused to look.
That entire conversation was a mistake. He got sucked in, he said things he didn’t mean, and he let it cut deep. Worse, he watched the words devour her and didn’t take any of it back.
He strode up the stairs without looking in her direction, and cut a line for his old room.
Gray light peeked around the edges of his windows, but between the shutters, the storm, and the lingering smoke, it was hard to see. He didn’t care. Most of this was junk. He’d scrape it into bags, and set it out with the rest of the garbage.
The plastic dinosaurs went first, followed by the army of green soldiers guarding a model car. He grabbed the car to sweep it into the bag, and hesitated. The toys were almost all gifts from his parents and friends of the family. Things they insisted little boys needed, growing up. He had to be the weird kid and ask for a scientific calculator when he was nine. He got the model car kit instead.
The memory added another layer of pain to what simmered inside. He’d sat up here, whining about how much he hated the stupid thing. Bailey argued it was awesome and pulled the parts from their box. The cheap pieces didn’t fit together the way she wanted. She was ready to give up on it too, until he pointed out where they had to sand and what parts needed a touch of heat to warp them and make it all click.
The red paint glopped in places and left plastic exposed on others, but back then they were so proud of it.
Thiswas why he didn’t want to come back here. He set the model in its home, to be dealt with later, and turned his attention to the closet. Nothing hung from the bar. His clothes had come and gone with him each year. As he grew older, he got snobby. Refused to wear anything that wasn’t trendy. The memories of teenage-him would make him laugh if they didn’t carry so much else.
He used his phone as a flashlight. The battery would be dead by the end of the day, unless the power came back on, but without a signal, it didn’t matter.
Boxes were stacked high. He grabbed the first one and grunted when he realized how heavy it was. A peek inside showed books about mathematical theories, patterns, and code breaking. This was all his stuff. He set it aside. They were old and so out of date they weren’t useful anymore, but they could be donated.
The remainder of the boxes were the same. Sorting through them didn’t take as long as he hoped, and all he did was shift the stack from the closet to the edge of the room. He might have to go back to the toys on the shelf sooner than he expected.
A twinge of pain shot through his right hand, and he dropped his phone out of reflex. “Fuck.” He wiggled his fingers, to get rid of the ache, and knelt to retrieve the device.Don’t let it be cracked.It was fine, as far as he could tell. Maybe scratched but still usable. The light cast along the back wall, reflecting a shine.
“What the...?” He tried to angle himself better, to get another look, but couldn’t find whatever caught his eye. He was about to give up, when he caught the glint again. He crawled into the closet and ran his fingers along the wooden paneling, until he hit a bump. A latch? No. Couldn’t be. It didn’t matter how many stories Nana told, or if they had a toe in reality; she didn’t have hidden compartments around her house.
The logic didn’t stop him from fiddling with the metal clasp. Did it twist? Push? Flip up?
