I lock eyes with her.“Venus?”
“I’ve given you all the time I can,” she says, as coldly as an uncaring doctor trying to get to her next patient.“You have a life to get back to, and I have things to do.”
She’s shutting me out, like a beach house closing its shutters and sandbagging the entry points ahead of a hurricane.The same blank-faced, matter-of-fact persona that I remember from high school takes over—the one she used to shelter in when she needed to believe that she didn’t care what others said or did to her.
Now, she wants to shut herself off from me behindherFortress of Solitude, veiled in dark academia—the only real home she’s known for the last decade.
“What things?”I challenge.“What has to be done at 6:30 in the morning?”
“My to-do list isn’t your concern.I don’t want to be rude,” she tries again, “but?—”
“But, that makes it easier, right?”
“I had fun.I hope you did, too.I’m glad to have apologized for my behavior and ended things on a more satisfactory note.But it’s over.You shouldn’t come here again.”Her forced smile sends a cold blade through my heart, and her words twist it.
Then, she pulls away and flees, naked, into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Fun?Satisfactory?Her dismissive words don’t even skim the surface of describing our time together this weekend.But I understand what she’s doing.Her forced attitude makes leaving easierfor me.I think of her wording—thatIhave a life to get back to, compared to her, who only has things to do.
She’s right.I have a son, a family, a small business, and classes starting tomorrow.I have an excess of life to get back to, and she’s giving me an out.It wouldn’t surprise me if she stayed in the bathroom until she hears me leave—a backward version of her racing away at my place.Prolonging the goodbye would make it harder.
But it doesn’t feel right.
I rise from the bed and find my scattered clothes throughout the house, putting them on as I come across them.I fold the throw blankets we used and make her bed.I rescue my shirt from the day before and drape it neatly on the back of her desk chair.I close her journal.
Yes, I’m lingering.Stalling.Uneasy about leaving this way.
I go to the bathroom door and tap it gently.“Venus?”
“Yes?”
“I’m ready to leave.Please, walk me out,” I say.“It’s customary to see guests out when they leave.”
The door swings open, revealing an annoyed Venus in a silky kimono that hugs her curves and highlights the green in her eyes.Her hair is tied into a purple scarf, forming a thick knot on her head.She looks like an adorable grump.
She beelines down the stairs and to the front door, swinging it open with enough force to make her robe ripple in the wake of it.I stand in the doorway in front of her, making it impossible to close the door just yet.Her eyes bounce from the floor to the ceiling to anything but me.
“Venus,” I say, catching her eyes in mine.“I did have fun.I won’t return without your permission.But I need you to install the garden.Please.”
Her tense shoulders fall just slightly.“Um, it’ll have to be today.”
“That’s fine.Come whenever you’re free,” I say, sounding upbeat.
“It won’t take long,” she says, more to herself than to me.“An hour or two, tops.”
“Okay.”A beat passes in awkward silence before I reach out to her.“Hug me goodbye.”
She groans in protest, but wraps her arms around my midsection and rests her head on my chest.I hold her there, tightening my grip until she relaxes.Her arms lock around my shoulders, pressing us closer.
“What if…” I say, holding her against my chest, “What if we tried being friends again?”
She breaks away from our tight-muscled grip and gives me a pained look that ends in a wry half-smile.“I never stopped being your friend… I have to go.Goodbye, Henry.”
The door clicks shut behind me as I step outside.The warm morning sun hits me, but does nothing for the coldness of her parting words.I should be relieved to escape whatever this is without added complications.
Instead, I feel lost.
CHAPTER23
