“So then why don’t you talk to him?”
A flash of anger blazed behind my tightlyclosed eyes. Letting out a deep breath, I resigned myself to saying, “Because I tried. He made it pretty clear he didn’t want to talk to me, so this is on him. Yeah, things need to be fixed and its way more complicated than I’m making it, but he has to come to me.”
She smiled, her eyes warm and caring. “You get that from me,” she said. “Just ask your father about it. I’m sure he has some selectwords.” We both shared a laugh before she continued. “There will come a point when you won’t care about your pride, that you’ll decide feeling at peace about whatever the situation is more important than being right.” Taking my empty mug from my hand, she stood from her seat. She stacked them together in one hand and clapped me on my shoulder with the other.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, sweetie.Just think about it. Think about what it’s worth to you and see what your heart says.” And then she walked away back into the house, leaving me there under the stars to contemplate how to forgive the one person who’d hurt me the most.
By the time I made it to my room, all thoughts of working out were gone. The energy it took to rein in my emotions left me with nothing else to give. So insteadof beating the crap out of the heavy bag, or lifting weights until my arms shook, I lay in bed wondering if this is what every relationship I’d ever have would be like. Would they always be afraid of being caught, of being outted? Would they always be ashamed of me and our relationship?
The logical side of my brain said probably not, but in my heart I knew that my road would never be an easyone to travel. So rather than think about any of that, I lost myself to the mindlessness of scrolling through the texts I’d received from my friends. They all wanted to know where I was and why I wasn’t at the party. I didn’t want to reply to all of them, but I figured I owed Korey an explanation.
But in the middle of my apology text, apingstopped me in my tracks. It was Ryan.
Ryan: What ifI told you I was already halfway to your house?
It was past midnight on a Friday. What could have happened that made him come to me? I was worried about him, but that concern wasn’t strong enough to wash away all my anger and frustration.
His words echoed what he sent to me all those months ago. Having reread those texts a million times, I had them memorized. But no matter how many times I readthem, I still couldn’t figure out where it all went wrong. And even now, I still had no idea what to say to him to make the pain go away.
With my thumbs hovering over the keyboard, I struggled to respond. Mom’s advice floated through my head.Why don’t you just talk to him?So with a deep breath held in my lungs and my heart stitched on my sleeve, I wrote back.
You already have the key.
I hopedhe knew I meant more than just the key to my door, but that was a little heavy for right now.
Within minutes, I heard the distinct sound of a key unlocking the door. Soft footsteps followed as Ryan walked down the steps to my room. I cringed when the third step let out a squealing-like noise as he pressed his weight into it. When no other footsteps followed from upstairs, I could breathe again.I had pulled myself up in bed right after he texted me. Sitting up against the wall, I sat with the blanket covering my crossed legs. My hands were shaking so much that even gripping them together did nothing to stop their movement.
He stood before me, his eyes red as if he’d been crying. I wanted to go to him, to wrap my arms around him and ask him what was wrong, but I stayed right where Iwas, waiting not-so-patiently for him to make the first move.
Of course I’d seen him at school. It was impossible not to notice how his body had changed, but here, in my room, his physical presence made it nearly impossible to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet, but certain. The air rushed into my lungs and relief swirled around me. It wasn’t much of an explanation for how he’d treatedme, but simply knowing he was sorry and seeing the truth of his words etched into his face, it was enough to soften me to whatever else he had to say. “Can I sit?” My ability to speak still hadn’t returned, so I simply nodded, tilting my head toward the opposite end of the bed. The mattress creaked under the pressure of his weight. And the weight of his presence hung like a thick, black cloud,waiting to release all of its rain.
We sat in the uneasy quiet for a few minutes. I knew if I looked over at him, I would break, so I stared down at my hands, twisting them together in knots. “I don’t blame you for hating me.” His words cut through the silence, leaving a gash in their wake. “I fucked it up. Just like I fuck everything up.” The anguish in his voice was like salt being pressedinto that wound, making me wince in pain as if I’d actually been injured.
Despite struggling to figure out what to say to him, I took a deep breath and told him, “I don’t hate you.” His head was buried in his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. He wouldn’t look up at me, no matter how much I was willing him to do so.
“How could you not?” he asked, his hands muffling his words.
I wantedto pull him into my arms, breathe him into my lungs, let him seep into my bones. I wanted to take away his pain, but I knew that wasn’t my job. As angry as I may have been with him, I couldn’t bear to see him this way. Pushing back the blanket, I moved to sit next to him. I draped an arm over his shoulders and every inch of where our bodies touched came alive. My skin was on fire, my heart thuddingin my chest as if I’d just run a marathon. “I’m upset and confused as hell about what happened with us, but no, I don’t hate you.” Taking a risk, I pulled his hands away from his face and lifted his chin up so that we were face-to-face. I needed to look into his eyes while I spoke. “Ryan.” I missed having his name on my lips. “Please listen to me and believe me when I say this, you are not nearlyas much of a fuck up as you think you are. Not even close.” I let my eyes rest on his and wishing so much to take his pain away. “I happen to think you’re pretty amazing, actually.”
His eyes widened in what looked like shock. “Liar,” he muttered.
“I have nothing to gain from lying to you. But I can’t expect you to believe me when all you see is what your family has told you for your entire life.”
The silence stretched again, broken only by his movements. He leaned over at an awkward angle and pulled something out of his back pocket. “I got in,” he explained as he handed me the folded sheet of paper.
“See? Amazing. You have proof right here in your hands that you’ve done something incredible, and you’re still trying to convince yourself that you’re some kind of delinquent. Like you’reunlovable or incapable of anything positive.”
“I don’t know how to process it all,” he explained. “My parents told me they were proud of me and I lashed out at them.”
“That’s understandable,” I said. Our legs touched but neither of us moved.
Progress.
“Because I’m an angry fuck, right?” He let a humorless laugh fall from his mouth, but all I could focus on was the shape of his lips. Theirsoft fullness called to me like the sirens singing to their next victim.
“Because they’ve been shitty toward you forever, and now all of a sudden they support you. And to top it off, they basically told you that you had to go to a college because that’s where Patrick was going. I think it’s perfectly normal for anyone to lash out when all of a sudden your parents change their tune. Like, whycouldn’t they have been like that all along?” Despite everything that had happened between us, I was angry for him.
“Pretty much hit the nail on the head there,” he muttered. “I just don’t get them.” Angry, he stood from the bed and immediately I missed the heat of his body next to mine. “They had more to say, but I stormed out before they could finish.” Lifting his arms above his head gave methe perfect view of his broad back, muscular shoulders, and defined waist. Cocking his fist back, he punched the heavy bag once before turning around to face me again. “It seemed so easy for them to change their tune, you know. Likeoh, hey, we’re really proud of you,but I can’t accept it from them because of everything else they’ve put me through. I felt like my chest was going to explode andI just had to get out of there.”
He shook with so much anger he had to shove his hands into his back pockets just to steady them. With as much calmness as I could muster, I stood from the bed and walked over to him. Standing toe to toe, I could feel his pain radiating in waves from his body. I wanted so badly to help him relax. I needed to help him understand that he wasn’t nearly half as badof a person as he thought he was, but that would have to come later. There was one thing I needed to know before he said anything else. “Why’d you come here?” I hated how shaky my voice was, how weak and tentative I sounded.
Then everything slowed down so much that I had to wonder if it was happening at all or if it was simply a dream. As he closed his eyes, he took a deep breath. When he reachedfor my cheek, it felt as if my heart stopped beating. Laced with anticipation, the moment drew out between us.
He swiped his thumb over my lip and moved even closer to me. There was no space between us and I felt his warm breath cascade over my skin.
And when he finally pressed his lips to mine, my heart started beating again.
