I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was caught in a riptide and couldn’t get my head above the surface. Because she was right. Maybe I could come home for a little while. A week tops. But that was it. I’d told her differently because if she knew the truth, that would be it. It felt like she was constantly on the verge of breaking up with me. She’d never said that, but I felt it. Just like I did right now.
Then she said the words I’d been dreading for eight long months.
“It’s okay, Blue. You’re doing what you need to do to go to a good college. And I’m here doing what I need to do. It’s just not our time.”
It’s just not our time?
She opened her mouth to continue.
“Stop!” I held up a hand.
But she didn’t. “It’s okay,” she said again. But her face, her tears, her tone, none of it said she was okay. “We can be friends and maybe when we’re a little older this will w-work out.” She gasped, trying to breathe.
“No. Anna. I don’t want that.”
She shook her head, looking away. She closed her eyes and a tear plopped over the rim of her lid and rolled down her cheek. I desperately wished I could wipe it away.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do it anymore. I just miss you so much and I’m constantly worried about other girls. I saw that one girl, Lacy? I saw her post on Instagram. She tagged you. Did you know that?”
“What? No.” I didn’t give a crap about Lacy. She was a jersey chaser who’d come at me hard all season. But she was nothing compared to Anna. Not even the slightest bit of a temptation. I guess she’d posted the dumb selfie I’d let her take of the two of us after we won the state championship two days before. But I’d taken a lot of selfies with a lot of people. That’s what happens when you’re celebrating.
“It’s too much,” Anna said in an undertone. “With my mom gone and now you gone, I’m an anxious mess all the time. I’m losing even more weight. I cry myself to sleep every night. And I’m so tired. I need a break.” A look of resolve crossed her face. “This will be good. Yeah. This feels like the right thing to do.”
“Anna, no,” I sobbed. “Can we just talk about this?” The regret of leaving Seddledowne had never been heavier than at that moment. It had been a selfish choice. I’d never asked her what she thought about it. I’d made the decision and told her after it was already done. And then I’d yoked her with this long-distance relationship, as if I had the right to do that. Now, it was finally coming back to bite me in the butt.
“I have to go help make dinner right now. We can talk tomorrow.” She nodded. “But I already know this is the right thing.”
I gripped my hair, tugging it so hard prickles shot across my scalp. “So that’s it? You get to make the decision for both of us?”
Her hand pressed against her heart. “I think in a week or two you’ll realize I’m right. It’ll be a relief not to have to worry about this. You’ll see.”
I held my hands up, even though they were convulsing. “Let me get this straight. Because I can’t afford to come home for Christmas, you’re breaking up with me?”
“Blue, I… I just can’t.” She stared at me with pity. She wasn’t even crying anymore.
I was a bumbling mess. All alone. Maybe if I told her that, instead of buying my ticket, my dad had blown all my money gambling in Vegas last weekend, it would make a difference. But I doubted it. And I was already humiliated enough.
So I stopped crying too. A hardness crept in that felt good. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. We’ll see other people. Be friends. It’ll be great.”
I thought the “see other people” thing would break her resolve but it didn’t.
She just stared at me, a sad smile playing at her lips. “Yeah,” was all the response I got.
I wanted to throw something.
Just then her bedroom door opened. I heard the familiar creak. Silas needed to WD-40 the hinges. The baby cried in the background.
“Hey,” Lemon said off camera. “Could you stir the spaghetti meat while I nurse James?” The baby wailed.
Anna nodded. “Sure. Be right there.” She looked back at me. “I gotta go. We can talk about?—”
I punched the red X, ending the call. A wild desperation filled me like I’d never felt before. I stormed out of my room and up to my dad, sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a disgusting cigarette. I couldn’t go visit Anna or Mom and Colt for Christmas but he could waste money—probablymymoney—on cigarettes?
“I just got dumped because of you!” I shouted.
He shot to his feet, his chair grating against the linoleum. We glared each other down, chests heaving.
“I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate everything about you! I never should’ve let you move me here!”
