The living room is clean with a few houseplants, some of whichlook fake. Jay catches up with Charlie a little before he heads back into thekitchen, saying that he needs to work on his crocheting.
Jay leads me through the living room into a side hall with abathroom at the end. He unlocks a door on the left side of the hall and guidesme inside.
“Here we are,” he says, and I can hear the disappointment in hisvoice.
The walls are bare. An unmade twin bed is set against a wallwith a window. Light pours through the blinds, casting sharp white shapesacross the hardwood floors. A duffle bag is tucked beside a wooden desk on thewall opposite the bed. Some clothes spill out of it, across the floor.
It’s not as messy as he always made it sound, but it’s so empty.So nondescript. Doesn’t tell me much of anything about his life because itlacks personality. He hasn’t put himself into this because he’s not used tostaying anywhere long enough to feel comfortable making it his own.
I didn’t think seeing his room would make me uncomfortable, butit does.
Not because of the mess, but because it reminds me that Jay isthe kind of guy who’s used to moving on. If something happened, something thatbothered him, it would be effortless for him to pack up his things and movealong to the next life he wanted to try. He’s arranged his life, hisbelongings, and his work so that he doesn’t have to stick around in any oneplace for very long if he doesn’t want to. And the idea of losing him soquickly concerns me.
“I told you it was nothing,” he says, avoiding eye contact.
I’m sure he’s sensed my discomfort, but I don’t want to make himfeel bad because it doesn’t have anything to do with him.
“It’s fine, Jay. This is totally normal.”
“You don’t look like it’s normal.”
“I’m not gonna lie and act like it doesn’t make me a littleuncomfortable. The idea of you just leaving when you feel like you’re done withAtlanta.”
His expression doesn’t offer me any comfort. He’s admittedthat’s how he is. How he can be. How he’s never been able to settle in any oneplace, so he must feel that it’s almost fate that he’ll have to leave.
“You think you’ll be moving on anytime soon?” I ask.
“No,” he says quickly, his brow furrowed. “I just…I’m not usedto having anything keeping me somewhere. Not for very long, at least.”
“But you’ve obviously had boyfriends in other cities.”
“Yeah. And I’m not used to them lasting long enough to bog medown much.”
“Is that what you think of a relationship? As something thatbogs you down?”
“No, no. I’m such an idiot. That’s not what I meant at all. Ijust meant that that they’ve always gone south pretty quickly, and when thathappens, I tend to not want to stick around.”
Does he think that’s going to make me feel more at ease? Theidea that one fight and he could be packing his bags and running out of my lifeforever? Moving on to the next place…the next partner.
I notice a stack of newspapers sitting on the desk. I approachthem. “More comics,” I say, sifting through them.
He steps beside me, interlocking his fingers as he shifts hisbody like he’s uneasy. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, should I?”
I wrap my arm around him and pull him close, kissing him.“That’s not what this is about. It worries me because I am scared of somethinghappening and you just running out. Relationships aren’t easy, and consideringwhat I deal with, the idea of it being too much and you just packing andleaving scares the shit out of me.”
But maybe that’s what needs to happen. Maybe he just needs tosave himself from all this.
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Maybe you’ll rethink that after I share what I need to withyou.”
I don’t know how to tell him this. There’s no easy way.Something like this isn’t the kind of thing that there’s ever a right time for.It’s like breaking up with someone. You just have to do it.
He eyes me curiously, surely wondering what I could haveweighing on me that I need to get off my chest.
“I…um…I used to be married.”
He tenses up.
