“No,” I cut him off, voice breaking. “I want to gohome. To Oklahoma.” I swallow hard around the next word: “Alone.”
I don’t think the reality of the situation actually hits me until I cross the state line into Arizona.
I was completely numb as I rode back to LA, numb as I packed up the bedroom, numb as I crammed everything back into my car, numb as I removed the house key from my keyring and left it on the counter for Luke. I’m honestly not sure how I made it this far, because I have no recollection of the first five hours of this drive. My mind has been playing and replaying the image of Luke’s face, stricken with grief, as he begged me to stay.
Then don’t let me go,I wanted to scream.
Tears are welling up again, blurring my vision. The memory of Luke slumped on the porch of the house in Palm Springs, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs as the cab put distance between us, will be burned in my brain forever.
Pulling into a truck stop, I check my phone and see that I already have a missed call and a voicemail from Luke. My pulse is pounding in my ears as my finger hovers between the “play” and “delete” buttons for a moment while I work up the strengthto do what I know I need to. I know that if I hear his voice, I’ll turn the car around.
I can’t quite bring myself to press “delete,” though, and turn my phone off instead.
Heading into the gas station, I take a minute to pull myself together in the bathroom before grabbing some coffee and hitting the road again. I’ve still got nearly eighteen hours of driving ahead of me, and I want to make it as far as possible today.
With my phone off, I busy myself trying to find a radio station that will come through in the middle of nowhere, and of course, my only options are a radio show that I remember my mom listening to when I was a kid, where a woman takes requests for love songs from callers, and AM talk radio. Talk radio it is then, I guess.
As the voices drone on and the miles pass, I think through every minute of the last forty-eight hours, trying to come up with any possible alternate outcome. I didn’t wake up this morning thinking that breaking up with Luke was even a remote possibility. I thought we might argue, but I never dreamed the day would end this way.
My throat is suddenly tight as I realize I’ll never get to make love to him again. I would have savored it so much more if I had known that last night would be our last time. Did I even kiss him this morning? My chest aches at the thought that I don’t remember our last kiss. Nothing about last night or today was supposed to be thelast.
Have I made a mistake?
No. Luke left me no other choice. He wasn’t willing to work on a solution to our problems, and staying would have only made it harder to leave when things eventually fractured beyond repair. Wecouldhave fixed this, I know we could have…but thatchoice wasn’t mine alone to make, and Luke made his stance on the matter very clear.
I don’t do too much praying these days, but looking backward isn’t helping me either. So I grip the steering wheel tighter and talk to God the way I used to when I was a kid, searching for the courage to keep driving east. I can’t turn back now. I did the right thing.
Even if it does break my heart.
I have to pull over on the side of the road to break down and cry again when I pass theWelcome to Oklahomasign. I’m running on about three hours of sleep on a shitty mattress in a sketchy hotel in Albuquerque, and I’m so overwhelmed by the exhaustion, heartbreak, and relief that I can’t do anythingbutcry.
I burst into tears again as soon as I pull into my parents’ driveway. I manage to get the car into park before I’m slumped over the wheel, sobs wracking my body so hard I can feel them in my bones. I can’t breathe. I can’t make myself step out of this car and into my childhood home, because that will be it. I won’t be the Riley Cunningham who lives in West Hollywood with Luke Larson and his dog, who makes adult content with his boyfriend that he’s madly in love with, even if that boyfriend doesn’t love him back yet. I’m just the Riley Cunningham who ran home crying from a broken heart, who failed to make it on his own.
A gentle tap on the car window and tug at the door handle startles me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see my mom’sconcerned face gazing back at me. I fumble to unlock the door and immediately fling myself into her arms, crying even harder as she wraps me up in a warm embrace. God, I really needed a hug from my mom.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” She’s trying to be calm and supportive with zero information, but I can hear the worry lacing her voice. “What are you doing home?”
I can’t answer her for a few minutes, and I know I’m probably freaking her out, just showing up unannounced like this. But it’s like a dam has burst inside me, and apparently, I’m going to cry until my eyes can’t produce any more tears.
Mom just stands there and takes it, shushing me gently and squeezing me tight.
Finally, I’m able to stop crying enough to choke out a few words: “Luke…he’s…we fought, I think, and…I left…”
“Oh, sweetheart…okay, come on inside.” She herds me up the front steps and deposits me on the couch, pulling a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table. “Your dad will be home from work soon; he can help you unpack the car later. Now take a few deep breaths and I’ll fix you some herbal tea, okay?”
I sniffle and nod, the dull ache in my heart easing just a little.
Mom returns after a few minutes with two steaming mugs of tea and huddles next to me on the couch, putting her arm around me and pulling me into another hug. “Now, tell me what’s wrong?”
“Everything, Mom,” I choke out, feeling myself on the brink of tears again already. How do I have any left? My eyes are already swollen and raw. I don’t think I can take another sobbing session. “I mean, everything wasso good,and living with Luke was amazing, but then when he had to work with someone else?—”
I snap my mouth shut in horror, realizing what I almost revealed to mymom,and I scramble to think of another way totell her what happened, when she laughs softly. “Oh, sweetie…I know that Luke is a porn star.”
I pull back to gape at her in shock. “I…wha-what do you…how did you…?” I stutter.
She gives me a knowing look. “Come on now…did you really think I wasn’t going to find out everything I could about the man my baby was dating? I’m not too old to use the internet, you know. Just because you won’t let me follow you on social media doesn’t mean that I can’t find things on there.”
“So…you know about…me, then,” I mumble, dropping my gaze to my mug. I’m not ashamed of the work I’ve been doing. But I’m a little embarrassed that my mom found out.
