Flynn dropped the clay on the table with an audible thud. “You don’t want me to go with you,” he surmised, his voice now flat and unemotional.
“I just think it would be best if I went on my own. I know you don’t really want to go anyway,” I said quietly, not meeting his eyes. I stared at his fingers, still molding the clay. I could see the tension in his wrists and it hurt my heart to know that it was because of me.
But all I was doing was hurting him.
Since coming back to Wellston I had been trying to build a life that just didn’t seem to be going anywhere. And my unhappiness was affecting Flynn. He was trying…but maybe he shouldn’t. Perhaps the best thing I could do would be to let him live the life he had created without me in it.
But the thought of that was like a knife to the gut.
“You’re going to New York,” he repeated, as though needing the confirmation.
“I’m going to New York,” I said.
We were quiet, letting the words hang in the air.
“Will you come back?” he asked.
I winced at his question. But I had to answer him truthfully. He deserved no less.
“I don’t know.”
**
I left for New York the following morning.
Our last evening together was stilted and uncomfortable. Flynn barely spoke to me and I knew that I had wounded him deeply by choosing to take this trip on my own.
I almost changed my mind at least a dozen times. Because when Flynn hurt,Ihurt.
But I was in a tailspin that I didn’t know how to get out of.
I just needed some distance to put things in perspective.
I needed to be reminded that there was an Ellie outside of Wellston. That I had been that girl for three years. Because I felt as though I was losing the girl who had been independent and competent. Full of hope and belief in a better future for herself.
I put my small bag in the back of my car. I stood there with my keys in my hand, staring up at the house that had always been my sanctuary. With my mind in such a bad place, it no longer felt that way. It felt like a prison.
Flynn hadn’t come out with me. He had stayed in the house. I could see Murphy through the window.
I had told Flynn I wasn’t sure I was coming back but could I bear not seeing this house again?
How could I ever live with losing Flynn?
I didn’t know anything anymore.
I had started to get in my car when Flynn appeared in the doorway, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets.
“Goodbye,” he called out.
My chest constricted painfully at his words. “You know, sometimes goodbye is just see ya later. So let’s say that instead,” I said, with a hint of smile. A smile he didn’t return.
He stared at me for a time and then turned around and headed back into the house. No more words.
Why did this feel so final?
Why did it feel like an end?
I didn’t linger. I got in my car and left before the tears could fall.
