“You are amazing,” I tell Scott, because right now, I'm fighting for us.
And why am I the one fighting when what he said just sounds like a compliment, not an obstacle?
He looks hurt. Sad, even.
“I do care about you, Mikey, but I don't think it'll work. I’ve seen people try to make long distance relationships work. People get hurt. People cheat. People lie.”
“Doesn't mean you can't give it a chance. Come on. We've both been experiencing the same things. Tell me you don't think there's something special.”
“There is something special. I will tell you that a million times, but the reality is that we live in two different worlds. You have a life in Los Angeles. My life is here.”
“We could work it out. We could figure something—”
“There's no reason to,” Scott says, aggression in his tone, like he just wants me to stop, like he's tired of me fighting for this.
A silence stretches between us. I don't think he realizes how hurt I feel right now.
How rejected.
It makes me feel like the past few months have just been in my head. Like I’ve been taking it further in my mind than he has, but as I reflect on the nights of cuddling and sweet kisses, I can’t believe that’s true.
But there’s another part of me that feels this is for the best. I remember my parents—their bitterness, their anger. They loved each other once. I remember that. I remember being young enough when they were still in love, and there were sweet kisses and affectionate gazes, and it changed.
It turned on them.
Scott gave me a reason to believe that maybe I could find something special and meaningful, and it was worth taking a chance on. Now, I just feel like I've been kidding myself.
“Mikey,” he says, his tone seeming to be an attempt to soothe me.
“No,” I say because it's too late to fix what he's done. Obviously he's made up his mind, and I've made up mine now. “If you are so sure that you don't want this, then I would never try to make it happen. It is complicated with long distance relationships, and I can't ask you to do that if that's not something you want. Let's just do what we've always done and agree that this is going to end when it ends, and that's fine.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“I'm not thrilled,” I admit, “but you have every right to want what you want.”
That’s a fucking lie, because I'm pissed as fuck.
He approaches me and puts his arm around me. What normally feels like this loving safe hold has twisted into something cruel—this desire, this want that I can never really fulfill because he hasn't given me the chance, because he doesn't want to giveusa chance.
“Come on,” he says. “Let's go watch a movie or something. Curl up in bed like we normally do.”
“I care about you, Scott, but I think tonight I need to be by myself.”
His eyes widen. It's clear that he's surprised by my words, considering we haven't spent any nights apart since we began the repairs on the house. We've ended up in either one of our beds without exception.
“I understand,” Scott says.
Why won’t he fight? Why doesn’t he care?
My chest tightens. I don't think I realized how much I cared about Scott until he convinced me of a future where I couldn't have him.
“So I guess we'll just see each other tomorrow to get supplies for Roger’s room,” Scott tells me.
“Yeah. That works.” He starts to walk away and then turns back around. I want him to say anything that will make me think that what I've been feeling isn't totally irrational. “I'll wake up early and get started on the painting so that it can dry by the time we get back.”
It feels like someone just sucked my soul right into the floor.
I'm devastated.You've wrecked me, Scott. You've destroyed me.
