She’s frozen in place.
“Another mistake,” I say in her ear, holding her in place. “It’s always a mistake when I’m involved. You should know that.”
I slowly let my hand slide down and take a few steps backwards to allow her breathe.
And to let myself breathe.
“If you don’t want to see me, you can start by not showing up at my house,” I tell her through my teeth, trying to erase the last memory I have of her.
She turns and lifts her chin.
“You know, solitude dirties the soul, Ian O’Connor. And yours is black. Maybe even blacker than mine.”
Her words get lost in the asphyxiating silence in this apartment.
I don’t have space.
I don’t have air.
I don’t have her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I breathe on her neck.
I can’t fall for it. I have to save us both.
“You should leave now.” My voice starts to lose its sense of control.
“I’ll go right away, don’t worry.” Her voice quivers.
“I’ll take you.”
The words come directly from my stomach.
“There’s no need. I’ll take the bus.”
“I wasn’t offering.”
She glares at me as anger colours her face.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that? First, you say I’m pathetic, that I have to get out of here, and now, you want to take me home? You’ve got a real problem, Ian.”
“It’s you, Riley. You’re the only problem I have, and you know I don’t like having problems,” I tell her, looking her right in the eyes, where the reflection of everything we weren’t hits me forcefully, smashing into my heart in an instant.
God help me. I’m still there.
“Well then, I’ll just go myself.”
She turns again, lifts the door, and disappears onto the street.
I stand there, incapable of moving, of speaking, of thinking.
I can’t even breathe.
God. She’s still here.
