Now I wasn’t so sure.
We got comfortable on the couch that I realized was brand new. The sale tags were still attached to the arms.
Flynn flipped on the television and started going through the channels. “It’s four forty-five, the A-Team doesn’t start until five. Right now it’s Laverne and Shirley,” he recited, stopping on a channel that played old shows.
“You watch a lot of Laverne and Shirley?” I smirked.
“They’re funny. It was my mom’s favorite show,” he said and I nodded.
“Well, let’s watch Laverne and Shirley then,” I told him, watching as he sat on the other end of the couch.
He sat upright, his hands in his lap, his feet flat on the floor. He didn’t look particularly comfortable.
So we watched television together. And I smiled at the sound of Flynn’s barking laugh. His shoulders shook and his mouth curved upwards into a beautiful grin. He looked happy.
I spent more time watching Flynn than I did the television. But he didn’t comment. He was too focused on the show.
He really was sort of amazing. After everything life had thrown at him, here he was, whole and healthy. He hadn’t become embittered or angry. He had become content and fulfilled in ways I could never understand.
He had welcomed me into the home I had destroyed. He sat beside me, sharing his space, opening his heart and even though I felt the weight of my truth deep in my soul, I also felt the joy.
Had I ever felt joy before?
Yes I had.
Once.
With him.
I surged upwards on my feet, startling Flynn. He looked up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“I have to go,” I told him suddenly.
His frown deepened.
“You don’t like the show? I can change the channel. We can watch the A-Team another time,” he said, consulting his watch to be sure of the time.
I shook my head.
“I don’t fucking want to watch TV!” I fumed, unable to hold back the outburst that barreled its way out of my chest.
I needed to leave. The hateful part was combating the tiny shred of happiness that had unwillingly unfurled in my gut. The happiness didn’t belong there. It had no place in the black pit of my heart.
“You’re mad,” Flynn deduced, watching my face, analyzing.
Yes I was mad. I was freaking furious. But it made no sense.
I was fucked up. I was scarred and ruined. I would taint him with my ugliness.
I needed to leave.
“I just need to go.” I didn’t explain. There was no way I could give voice to the demons possessing me.
“I’ll drive you. I can watch the A-Team tomorrow. It’s on at 5:00 every day.” I was sick and tired of hearing about the stupid A-Team!
I didn’t say anything. I waited for him to get his car keys and I let him take me home.
I couldn’t say I’m sorry.
