“I should have known better,” she said. “I don’t want another chance, LeCharles. I suppose I should be grateful that you saved me from the Saints, and I am, but for everything else? No, this was all just a ploy to fuck me and then leave on that note. So, instead, leave on this note. Leave on an argument like this. You should be used to that. And never see me again.”
Jesus. It’s come to that. It’s just like it was ten years ago.
There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to lash back with, and most assuredly, none of it was good or nice. I would have said things that would have scarred both of us for life, her for hearing it, and me for realizing I was capable of saying it. I think the only reason I didn’t say anything was that, at the moment, I somehow figured that not saying anything at all was the most brutal move of all.
Either way, I stood up, glared at her, and then turned and walked out. The only thing I did otherwise was to briefly say, “bye, Shiloh,” but I kept moving. I didn’t dare stop and pet him, lest I incur the wrath of Rose.
I slammed the door shut behind me, practically stomped to my bike, got on it, and drove straight home.
And when I finally got home, when I finally was away from the madness, I took a chance to catch my breath.
What had I done?
Just because I’d gotten frustrated by one semi-bad date... just because Rose was, frankly, justified in focusing on herself instead of me... I let everything go to hell? Wasn’t I always the one that said if I ever did get married, it would be to someone strong and independent? Wasn’t I the one that had practically begged for her back the past couple of days?
And now it had all gone to waste.
I had acted a fool.
The best part of my life was gone forever because of my stupidity.
Rose
What the hell just happened?
At first, as LeCharles left, I sat fuming in bed. Shiloh came up, but not even he could pull me out of the unbearable rage that I felt as I heard his motorcycle pull out. I screamed after he was gone in sheer frustration, just wanting to erase the previous five minutes.
But when he left, I wondered what the fuck had actually just happened. How had I let what felt like five weeks of hard work to give something potentially magical a second chance completely unravel in less than five minutes of a bullshit argument? Why had I lashed out so hard? LeCharles got carried away at the end, and he should have treated my focus with a little more respect.
But so much of what I said in between...
“Well, buddy,” I said with a sigh. “The good news in all of this is that I finally get to focus on me and myself. No boys, for the time being, no rekindling of old relationships, none of that. It’s just you and me. And luckily, you’re not an asshole or high maintenance.”
Shiloh, though, wasn’t having it. He just stared at me with a half-glazed look, as if he was stupefied by what he had just witnessed.
“I know, I know,” I said. “I know LeCharles could be a great guy. But, buddy, the keyword is could. Not is.”
Still, my dog gave me that look, as if he thought I was being utterly ridiculous.
And maybe I was. Maybe tomorrow morning, both of us would realize we had let ourselves slip into the worst kind of bad habit, and we would work to make things right. Maybe it wouldn’t happen tomorrow morning. Maybe it would happen in a few days or something.
Or, maybe this was the final straw that killed the camel. We’d already broken its back, but for some silly reason, we decided to try and heal it. No more.
But was it really the right choice to tell him to never see you again?
I guess we’ll see how I feel in the morning.
* * *
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to really test that idea out.
Oh, I made it to morning.
The problem was how I got there—I just never slept. I stayed awake the entire damn night, replaying the events over and over again. Just when I would think that I was about to fall asleep, a part of the argument would come roaring back, and I would wonder if anything could have been done differently. I wanted to say that I actually did fall asleep around three or four in the morning, but by that point, the fight was so embedded in my mind that I just dreamed about it, making it impossible to differentiate from my waking thoughts.
I felt like I’d made a massive mistake. I felt like in an effort to compensate for being such a pushover with LeCharles and try to win him back, I had swung too far the other way. Dependency was toxic, but too much independence didn’t allow for anything to develop in the first place. I had needed to find just the right balance of independence and interdependence, and such a thing was now barely worth contemplating given I’d probably never see LeCharles again.
Actually, no, that was false. I would see him constantly, especially if I chose to go out in this town. This wasn’t Los Angeles. This wasn’t Salt Lake City. This was Springsville, a town a little bit bigger than one street but small enough that there was nowhere to hide if someone wanted a social life. I couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than never seeing him again.
