Clay pulled me closer until our chests were touching and I had to look up to see him. He reached down and pushed the bangs off my face. I melted as his fingers glided over my skin.
“I will never hurt you like that. As long as we’re together, I have something to fight for,” he whispered.
I wanted to yell at him that he had hurt me like that a million times already. That he hadn’t fought for us, or himself, despite the fact that I gave him all the love that I had. But he made me weak. I hated myself for not being able to verbalize the thoughts and doubts that swam through my head. Why couldn’t I just say how I felt? Why did I allow myself to get sucked under by him time and time again?
“I love you. You are my life.” He placed my hand over his heart. I could feel it beating erratically beneath my palm. “Feel that? It’s yours. For now and always!” he said emphatically, before wrapping his arms around me.
He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my shoulder as we held each other.
“I love you,” he whispered again before burying his face in my neck. I let him hold me for a while before I pulled away. He looked at me with confusion as I stepped back, trying to give myself some space.
“Clay. I love you, too—” I started but he cut me off.
“And that’s all that matters! We love each other! That’s all we need!” He seemed so sure. But, then again, he always had. This time, I wasn’t.
“No, Clay. That’s not all we need. You need help!” I told him.
I watched as Clay’s face darkened. “Not this again. We’ve talked about it. You are everything! If we’re together, I’m fine!”
I held up my hand to stop him. “This is a lot to take in. I need time. I need to think. Please, just stop,” I begged him, backing upeven farther. I didn’t bother to argue with his ridiculous statement. I just needed to halt this conversation before I caved completely.
Clay came toward me again, looking broken. “Maggie, I was wrong! Please, don’t leave me!” he cried, reaching for my hand again. I moved away from his grasp.
“I have to go,” I said, and turned to leave.
I started to run through the trees. I didn’t get far before Clay’s hands grabbed me from behind. I tripped as he pulled me to a stop. He crushed his chest against my back and pressed his face to my neck.
“I can’t lose you again! I’ll do anything! Just don’t walk away from me!” he pleaded. I could feel his body shaking as he gripped me. His hot tears burned my flesh as they slid down my neck. I reached down and tried to unwrap his arms from around my middle.
“Then let me leave. Just give me time to think. I can’t do that when we’re together,” I urged, not turning around to look at him. I knew that if I saw his grief-stricken face I would be a goner. And I needed to decide whether a life with him was what I wanted. If a life without him was something I could stand.
Clay was quiet for a few minutes. I could feel the ragged draw of his breaths against my back, the warmth of his tears on my shoulder as he pressed against me like his life depended on it. Then, without another word, he moved his arms and I felt the cold air of our separation as he moved away from me.
Letting me go.
I was shaken by my time with Clay. I went home practically in tears and more confused than ever. My mind was churning and I struggled against the need to run straight back to him. I hadn’t been lying when I said I needed time. But something told me that time wasn’t going to solve anything.
How did I reconcile myself to the fact that I had just walked away from the love of my life? Particularly when he needed me most. What kind of person did that make me? I had acted on a desperate sort of self-preservation when I left him standing alone in the woods. I was scared and mixed up. But I couldn’t think past the fact that he loved me and wanted us to be together.
Why couldn’t that be enough?
I was a complicated mixture of scared and angry. I felt like punching the wall or pulling my hair out. It was unfortunate for my mother that she happened to walk into my room in the midst of my very real freak-out.
I sat at my desk, twirling my chair in circles, wishing I could grow a pair of wings and leap out of my second-story window. I had chewed my nails to the quick and was currently gnawing on my cuticles.
I heard a light knock on my door and, without waiting for permission, my mom pushed it open with an armful of laundry. She wore an annoyingly perky smile and was still dressed in her office clothes. She must have just gotten home from work.
She dropped the pile of clean clothes on my bed. “How was school?” she asked me. I shrugged, not looking at her. I just wanted her to leave. I still blamed her and Dad for a lot of my current situation. Maybe if they had been more accepting of Clay, things would have been different. Or maybe it would snow in July. Well, whatever—I needed to blame someone and they filled the bill.
“Is that a good shrug or a bad shrug?” she asked lightly.
I shrugged again. My mom was quiet and then I heard the squeak of my bedsprings and suppressed a sigh. Great, she wanted totalk.I swung my desk chair back around and gave her my best stink eye.
“Yes?” I asked in irritation.
My mom frowned at me. “What’s with the attitude? I just wanted to know how my only child is doing. Is it wrong for a mother to care about her daughter’s well-being?” Okay, that was it. I was sick of their concern. Sick to death of their overprotective mama-and papa-bear bullshit.
I glared at my mother, the woman who had been my best friend and biggest support for most of my life. But in that moment I forgot all about that. Instead, all I saw when I looked at her was my enemy.
