“I just pulled up to their place.Call you later.”
“Alright.Hey, real quick, do you still go to church?”
“Uh, yeah man.Every Sunday.Why?You wanna come?”
“No.Well...maybe?I don’t know.No.”
I hear the door slam and I picture him jogging up the steps.
“I’ll let you go.”
“You sure you’re good?I don’t have to go...”
“You’re good.Go.”
***
When I irrationallybooked my flight back to LA for early that Sunday morning there were several things I didn’t consider.The first one—Gabriella.My little performance with Tate made headlines before I even got up Saturday morning.The trip to Franklin didn’t make it better, but it’s been eerily quiet on Gabriella’s end.Not a text or call.She hasn’t blasted me with posts or profanities.And for someone who has a flair for the dramatic, this is not a good sign.Then there’s Jan.My love-conquers-all, puffed-up chest has deflated into what in the world was I thinking?I feel like I was momentarily possessed by someone who is not me.Someone like Tim who goes headfirst into a relationship.Nope, I didn’t think about Gabriella, Jan, or the show the whole flight back.I’ll tell you, when I kicked my boots out under the seat in front of me, I was thinking about one thing—getting as far away from Tate as humanly possible.The first time, she left me.This time, I left her.We’re even, in a sense, but I still feel like a steaming pile of dog poop.
I punch in the code to the door, clearing my mind of feelings and ready myself for the backlash I’ve put off till now.The glass in the door wiggles a bit when I close the door behind me.Everything is just as I left it.I stride upstairs, bag in hand, just as Gabriella rounds the corner.I stop and so does she.It feels like an old western showdown.A tumbleweed will roll by any minute now.Her face conveys no emotion.
“Hey,” I say first.
Her eyes narrow a fraction.“Hey.”
Another lengthy pause.
“Look, Gabriella, I messed up.I don’t know what got into—”
I’m cut off by a firm palm between us.“Let’s drop it.This was never real, like what you have with Tate.”
I was prepared to be called stupid.Reckless.Irresponsible even.I could take those.Shake them off.But that?That felt like a one-two knockout punch.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” I say, rolling my lips inward.I watch as she cocks her head to one side, eyes slicing over my face as she attempts to read the message under what I’m saying.Finally, she gives up,
“What do you mean you don’t know about that?There’s about a million pictures on the internet that suggest otherwise.”
I scratch at a spot on the back of my neck right below my ear.The weight of my bag is somehow lighter than this conversation.
“Let me go put my bag down and then we can talk.”I make to move past her, but as I am about to, she stops me with a curl of a hand around my bicep.
“What happened?”Concern flashes over her eyes and I feel compelled to tell her.
“Can we at least sit down?”It’s a question, but I’ve already sat on the step and have my bag parked on the one right below me before she answers.
She takes a seat.“Spill.”
“There’s no good place to start.I like Tate...really like Tate, as you know.And I don’t know if I wanted closure or what, but whatever was happening is no longer happening.We’re too different.We want different things, and I should have just let her leave the first time.”
“Different how?”
“She believes in God and stuff.”I don’t mean to mumble it, but it’s how it comes out.
“What?”
I repeat.“She believes in God.And stuff.”Not sure what the stuff I’m referring to is, but the sentence also doesn’t feel complete without it.
Gabriella slaps her knee.“Well duh!You didn’t pick up on that?”
