Page 88 of The Art of Drowning

“I’m good.” I swallowed past a lump in my throat that indicated I very much was not. But after a few deep breaths, I forced myself to be.

“Do you feel up to getting something to eat?”

I thought about it for a moment before I slowly nodded. “Something salty. And greasy. Maybe fries. Or onion rings. Or a burger.” My stomach clenched but not because I was going to be sick. The idea of food woke it up and now it was going to be a beast to feed.

“If you want to wait in the car, I’ll check us out and we can grab a bite on the way out of town.”

“Why don’t we stay? It’s so late in the day, we could get an early start tomorrow.”

“I can’t.” Damien got to his feet and stuffed them into his shoes. Was he mad at me?

“I’m sorry about last night,” I told him. “I’ll be good tonight. No drinking. Not that I could if I wanted to,” I tacked on. The mere idea of anything alcoholic or sweet made my stomach sour.

“I need to get back, Callum. I have a business to run and a business partner who has been exceedingly understanding about the situation. I can’t keep bailing on him.”

I forced a smile. “Right. Right. Uh, okay. Let’s… go then.”

Damien’s lips flattened into a line but after a moment of awkwardly holding his intense gaze, he let out a sigh and said he’d be right back. I couldn’t help but replay his words over and over again even though it wasn’t fair of me.

Damien had to get back to his life. He couldn’t keep bailing on his business partner. And I should’ve been far happier that he was a man of integrity, but the feeling that he was going to abandon me wouldn’t go away. I’d tried to drink it away last night and tried to sweet talk around it this morning, but it sat in the pit of my stomach like a stone.

One day, maybe soon, Damien was going to leave me again. He was going to go back to the life he’d built without me, and I’d let him because I didn’t know how to make myself fit anywhere.

After a fortifying set of deep breaths, I left the room and waited outside for Damien to come back so he could take me home.

“Ready to go?” He offered me a half-smile and didn’t comment when I didn’t try to return it.

FORTY-TWO

damien

NOW

NOW

DAMIEN

Every word of caution Bowie ever gave me was suddenly on a loop in my head. And if that wasn’t bad enough, my own insecurities reared their ugly heads and joined in the mix.

Callum and I were impractical. We didn’t work on paper. We lived different lives in different locations. We led lives we knew largely nothing about. And I knew it was petty because Callum had a lot going on, but I couldn’t help but think that he hadn’t made an effort. Not a real one.

He hadn’t come to my town, or my house, or met my best friend. I realized that last night when there were four of us at a table and the three of them had all these stories to tell, because even though Callum moved away, they still kept in touch. He still came back and saw them. That was a luxury I wasn’t given.

Instead, there was a huge gap, and I was suddenly unsure of how to bridge it.

Callum dozed most of the drive back, his head pressed against the passenger window, his jacket balled up for a pillow.

When I used to dream of having Callum in my life again, it wasn’t like this. It was more balanced. Less one-sided. He was supposed to be in my life because he wanted to be, not because he’d somehow stumbled back into it. Kind of. Sort of. It felt like he had one foot in and one foot out.

By the time we got to his house, it was late but when I pulled into the driveway, I didn’t cut the engine. I hadn’t stopped for dinner because Callum wasn’t hungry and, frankly, neither was I.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door, but paused when he realized the car was still running.

“Are you not coming in?”

“Not tonight.” Maybe not ever.

Callum looked at me like I’d slapped him. “You’re not staying? And I thought… we were going to stop to meet your friend.”