He placed his hands in his pockets and watched me. Tattered strings of my broken heart found each other and began to mend. My throat clenched, and my eyes prickled at the corners as tears I hadn’t been able to form before rushed to the surface. My gaze stayed on the gift in my hand for a long time before it met his again. I placed his gift on the top of the couch beside me, but I didn’t say a word.
His eyes took on a seriousness that tore through me like a drill.
“Why’d you leave?”
My voice was small in my measly excuse. “I live here–”
“You know what I meant.”
I paused. I tucked my lips in as I stared back at him. I couldn’t say what he wanted me to say. I couldn’t bear the words.
“Why’d you leave?” he repeated.
“I had to—”
“That’s a lie.” His voice was stern, and it sent a tiny prick of panic through my chest. E had never pressed me far. He never pried or prodded. He’d let me lie to myself when I needed to, and let me hide when I wanted to. But now, we’d come too far. Now, he was here to push my limit. To force me to face the music I had fled from.
“No, it’s not!” I denied.
“Yes, it is.” He took a step toward me. His voice was calm. Steady and sure. “It’s bullshit, and you know it.”
I dropped my face to my hands and tried desperately to pull myself together.
“I can’t do this, E.”
“Do what?” He almost yelled.
I shook my head with welling eyes, and he stared at me, frustrated.
“What are you even doing, Syd? Do you even know?!” His shoulders rose, and his hands gestured before him. And the look on his face—the desperation in his eyes—it’s something that will haunt me forever.
“This is my life, E. This is the life I’m choosing.”
“Why are you choosing something you don’t want?”
“I do want this! I want to be happy and—”
“Safe?” I swallowed. “You think I can’t keep you safe?”
He closed the distance between us as he said it, the intensity in his eyes boring into mine like a knife. Tears brimmed in my eyes, but I didn’t blink, too stubborn to let them fall. I wanted to seem strong, to seem sure. But he saw right through it anyway. He always did.
“It’s not about that.”
“What’s it about then, huh? Tell me, because I don’t know what’s going on anymore! You love me, you hate me, you show up at my house in the middle of the night and have sex with me, and then you disappear on me. Tell me what’s going on, Sydney!”
I gritted my teeth. “Keep. Your voice. Down.”
“Why, afraid someone’s going to find out?”
“There’snothingto find out!”
He scoffed and took a step back. “Oh, that’s a good one. Maybe I’ll write it down. Tell it to our kids one day.”
“Argh!” I rubbed my face, trying to gain control of my thoughts. “You’re insufferable.”
I turned and walked toward the kitchen, but he followed.
“Tell me what you want, Sydney. Stop lying to yourself and just say what you want.”
