Page 84 of When the Smoke Clears

When I look at her, she slows her chewing and blots her mouth with the napkin. Then she nods once.

I inhale and hold it for a few seconds before exhaling everything that’s eating at me. “I’m angry that my dad is dying, but he’s eighty-two, so why am I angry? He’s had a good life. I’m pissed that I’m leaving the job I love, but that makes no sense because I’ve been telling myself for years that I need to make a big change in my life if I expect a different outcome. I’ve been stagnant for too long. My friends seem to have the perfect life, and yeah, I’m forty, and it feels like I’ve missed out on having that kind of life. And I don’t want to be jealous, but I am. And I’m still pissed that you lied to me eleven years ago, and I swear I’ll take this anger to my grave.

“The idea that you haven’t had sex with anyone since you had it with me is ridiculous and kind of disturbing. Yet, I’m fucking irritated that you may have had sex with Casey, or any other guy for that matter. And, yes, I don’t need a psychiatrist to tell me how fucked up that is. I’m well aware. But what’s just as ridiculous is I don’t want my friends to know that amid hating you, I’ve started craving you. I think about you for an unhealthy number of hours each day. But I’m not going to have sex with you because I’m moving tomorrow. And that’s the real problem because my moving to Somers tomorrow wouldn’t stop me from having sex with anyone else. So now, I’m really screwed because I’m sure that means I have some unresolved feelings or other sort of bullshit going on that I don’t have time for because my dad is dying and I’m not prepared to deal with that reality.”

I deflate, unsure whether I feel better or worse. Vulnerable, that’s how I feel.

Everleigh peers at me with a hint of tension along her forehead. Then she drops her chin, focused on her lap for a few seconds. She’s multifaceted, like a diamond. Layered and deep. Sophisticated and beautiful. Intelligent and calculated. But also, she’s young and impulsive with her emotions for me, and I feel honored to be the recipient of her vulnerability even if I’m the worst person in the world she could give herself to in that way.

I hang on her every breath even when I pretend that she’s the bane of my existence.

She sips her water before picking up her fork and knife to resume eating her chicken.

That’s it? That’s all the reaction I get after ripping open my chest to give her everything?

“I wonder if Casey’s girlfriend lives with him. It would be fun to have another girl around the house even if it’s just for a month or so until I move into my Airstream. Maybe she’s a gamer too.” She looks up at me, swallowing before rubbing her lips together as if she’s contemplating video games more than my disastrous life.

I bow my head in defeat and finish my steak without saying another word. After we decline dessert, the server returns to take our payment.

“I’ve got it,” I say, tapping my card on the machine before Everleigh gets hers dug out of her purse.

After tucking the card back into my wallet, I stare at her.

She smiles. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” I push back in my chair and stand.

Silence steals the stage on the ride home. What’s left to say?

Everleigh doesn’t wait for me when we pull into the driveway. She kicks off her heels inside the back door and heads straight up to the bathroom. I collapse onto the sofa and inspect the room. I’m leaving tomorrow, but I have no fucking clue what to take or what to pack away and store in the garage to make room for whoever rents the house.

The one squeaky stair lets me know Everleigh is coming down them, and I turn. Her hair is pulled back, face washed.

She steps in front of the sofa, hands at her sides, somewhere between Dr. Reichart and Everleigh. “I’m here for you. So are your friends. You’re not alone. And it’s okay not to be okay. Take whatever you need and leave the rest to us.” She glances around the room.

“I’m an asshole,” I whisper, leaning my elbows on my knees and threading my fingers through my hair.

“No,” she says softly.

When I lift my head, her eyes fill with tears, but she swallows and blinks while looking at the ceiling for a beat to regain her composure.

“I want to touch you,” I whisper.

She nods quickly, drawing in a shaky breath.

“But I can’t.”

She continues to nod, folding her hands in front of her. “I know,” she says with a quivering voice despite attempting to be brave and detach herself from me. “Safe travels.” Her chin tips up, and it breaks my fucking heart to see her on the verge of crumbling.

“Thanks.”

“Bye.”

I return a slow nod, dropping my gaze to the floor before she breaks me. “I’m sorry,” I say as she approaches the back door. “Eleven years ago, I should not have left you the way I did, because . . . it did mean something. It was the best week of my life. You’re the best week of my life.”

Click.

She closes the door behind her.