Page 87 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

Her eyelids snap open and the wound reopens in her gaze.

“I see,” she says simply, in a tone that sounds like surrender.

I don’t hide behind anything.

“Yes. She appeared when I was a wreck, when I didn’t even know who I was anymore. She was my friend first and foremost. She held me up when I couldn’t hold myself up. She helped me get up every morning. She took care of me with a patience I didn’t deserve. And over time… I started a relationship with her.”

Lidia takes a step back. Barely one, but I feel as if the ground is opening up beneath my feet.

“So you did love her,” she says, and it’s not an accusation. It’s worse. It’s a weary, deep disappointment.

I nod, because I’m not going to sugarcoat anything anymore.

“Yes. I loved her and I still do. She’s an incredible woman; she was there when my world was falling apart and offered me a stable, peaceful, orderly life… a life where I didn’t have to constantly look back or face my mistakes.”

“And what the hell am I doing in all of this?” she asks, and her voice breaks at the end, as if something inside her had snapped.

I move a little closer. This time she doesn’t pull away.

“You were the one thing I couldn’t forget, no matter how hard I tried,” I reply honestly. “You were the thought I returned to every night, the voice I heard in my dreams, the scent that followed me through the streets of London.”

Lidia looks at me as if she doesn’t know whether to slap me or burst into tears again.

“That doesn’t comfort me…” she whispers.

“I’m not trying to comfort you,” I say firmly. “I’m trying to tell you the truth, even if you hate me for it, even if you decide you never want to see me again. I thought I could build a life without you,” I continue. “I really tried, with all my strength. I told myself over and over that love could also be calm, habit, routine, peace… and maybe for someone else that would have been enough. But it didn’t work for me. Because with you, I didn’t have just any old relationship. With you, I had my whole life, Lidia. You were my home, my future, my everything.”

Lidia trembles visibly, and I can see how she’s fighting not to completely break down.

“Then why did you lie to me?” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Why did you let me trust you? Why did you make love to me and make me believe we were okay? Why did you hide from me that you had a partner!?”

The question cuts right through me, mercilessly. There’s no possible defense, and I know it.

“Because I was a coward again,” I confess, and the tear I’ve been holding back for a while finally rolls down my cheek. “When I saw you… everything I’d been burying for years exploded all at once. Everything. Your eyes, your voice, the way you looked at me… it took just one night for me to realize that I’d never stopped being yours, that my heart was still beating for you even though I tried to deny it.”

She laughs. It’s a broken laugh, full of sadness.

“How nice of you to say that now, after everything you’ve done,” she murmurs ironically.

“I’m not trying to make it sound nice, Lidia,” I reply honestly. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

“The truth would have been to tell me that before you kissed me back,” she retorts, and her gaze hardens slightly.

“Yes.”

“The truth would have been not sleeping with me while someone was waiting for you in London.”

“Yes.”

“The truth would have been to choose me, to have told me the truth from the start, and to have spared me from getting hurt again.”

I look at her and feel that, even if I live a hundred years, this guilt won’t go away. It will stay there, like a scar that will remind me of the stupid mistake I made and what I lost.

“Yes,” I repeat, my voice heavy with regret. “You’re right about everything, Lidia. I have no excuses.”

She wipes her tears away angrily, as if she’s annoyed at crying in front of me.

“So, what do you want from me now?” she asks, and the question hangs between us like a precipice neither of us wants to look over completely. “Do you want me to forgive you and pretend nothing happened?”