I reach blindly for the door handle and stumble out of the truck.
“Bea?” Simon says.
“I don’t know,” I say again, and this time my voice cracks. I spin to face him as he climbs out of the truck. “I don’t know, okay?I don’t know. Say I take you back. Then what? Then I just ride along doing whatever you’re doing because I still don’t know what I want to do for myself? That you’re the next man whose life defines mine so that I don’t have to decide who I want to be or what I want to do?”
His chest moves slowly, like he’s controlling how fast he inhales and exhales so he doesn’t lose his shit either. “I would be honored to be the lucky bastard who gets to watch you discover all the different places you might find your joy in life.”
I rub my eyes, then sigh, barely able to look at him for knowing he’s hurting. “I can’t do this right now.”
He blinks several times, then methodically nods.
“You have my number.” Dammit, his voice is froggy now too. “You can call me anytime. Day or night. To yell. To talk. To breathe. It’s only you, Bea. It will only ever be you.”
My nose burns and I can’t swallow right and the entire world is disappearing behind a waterfall.
I want to hug him.
I want to believe him.
But I’m too raw, and more than not knowing if I can trust him, I don’t know if I can trust myself.
Because thisisjust like every other boyfriend.
I sill don’t know who I want to be.
And how fair would that be to him?
So I give him a jerky nod, and I retreat into Daphne’s apartment.
Alone.
The way it needs to be.
37
WHEN A MAN CAN’T STOP LOVING A WOMAN
Simon
“Has he moved all day?”Lana asks one of the boys two days after the last time I saw Bea.
“He put on sunscreen every thirty minutes and drank two beers,” Charlie reports.
I had a temporary above-ground pool installed while waiting for the in-ground pool that was hidden beneath decades of leaf decay to be properly cleaned, filled, and balanced—even my money wasn’t enough to fix it immediately when I decided the hell with it, that I wanted a pool—and my children have been enjoying the novelty while I’ve been enjoying the privacy that comes with not leaving the house.
“I also served you lunch,” I say without opening my eyes.
Opening my eyes hurts too much.
There’s sunshine and blue sky and happy children and complete uselessness because there is not also a Bea.
“He told us where to find the boxed macaroni and cheese to fix ourselves,” Eddie says.
“You know how to operate the stove,” Lana muses.
“But it’s summer vacation.”
“And you’ve made friends and had a blast at that summer program your dad found for you, and I know for a fact he’s cooked for you or taken you out to eat practically every other meal this summer.”
