Page 11 of The Unraveling

“Don’t fucking baby me.”

“I think maybe we should find a therapist to help you work through—”

“Oh my god, Jordan. Sometimes it’s not as simple as just, oh, someone died, now everyone’s sad about it. You don’t even know what things used to be like. It was awful. Horrible. She was a villain. And now she’s dead and I never—”

I almost say, And I never got to tell her how angry I am at her, but I know it’ll prove his point, so I stop.

“Jocelyn.”

“And this isn’t about her, though I know that’s an awful convenient thing for you to blame all this on,” I insist, suddenly finding a way to redirect. “It’s about the fact that suddenly I have no life! No independence! All I do is walk around with you as your arm candy. Hanging with your friends. Living your life.”

“That’s not fair, Jocelyn. I didn’t make you quit ballet. I said we could make the long-distance thing work for a bit until I could come to you. I never once said you needed to uproot for me. You wanted to do that. I’ve also been encouraging you to reach out to the ballet companies here. You can have your own life. I love having you around, and I also love when you do your own thing. There’s no crisis here.” His voice remains calm and steady. There’s no way he can win with me right now, because even this makes me furious.

“Whatever,” I snap.

I don’t even recognize myself right now. I’m completely shut down. Any love or affection I have for Jordan has vanished. Or, if it’s still there, it’s hiding. The kinder he is, the more annoyed I feel by him. He’s giving me unconditional love. The kind people usually get from their parents growing up. The kind people talk about getting in their relationships. When people really love you, they’re with you during the hard times. You’re supposed to be able to yell and scream at them and have a fit and be wrong. You’re supposed to know that they love you no matter what. It’s so far from what I grew up with in my own home that it’s almost laughable.

If I wanted to be loved, I had to go to my grandmother’s house. Mimi is still alive, but she’s not present. Her dementia got worse about a year ago, around when I got together with Jordan. My mom had her in a memory care facility. I don’t even talk to her anymore, which makes me feel even worse and guiltier.

The problem is, when I do FaceTime her, there’s always an aide there. I understand why, but it makes me feel chaperoned and I have trouble being myself. I feel embarrassed in front of the person monitoring. Afraid to ask Mimi if she remembers me or remembers her own life.

No wonder I’m such a mess. My life has crumbled.

On top of everything, I know that Jordan’s right. I know he’s right even in my rage. I know I gave it all up for him, that he didn’t ask me to. He’s not even taking all the credit he deserves. When I said I was quitting, he told me he’d sooner give up the opportunity in London than let me leave the NAB. So, I did it behind his back and didn’t give him a chance to stop me.

It was supposed to be spontaneous. It was supposed to be romantic. Now it just seems like self-sabotage.

“Jocelyn, can we work on this? Together? Do you think we can do this? I want to. If you want me, I’m not going anywhere. But ever since your mom’s accident, you have torn me and us apart every single night. And now that she’s passed away I don’t think it’s going to get better.”

“Now who’s being dramatic?” I roll my eyes.

He’s right. Again.

“Jocelyn. Please.”

I bite the tip of my tongue hard. My mind is starting to tangle with the fact that his words are threatening to access the things inside that I’m not yet ready to access. It’s like he’s jimmied the lock open and I know that if the door opens, all hell will spill out. I’m not ready to deal, so I stuff the lock to stop him.

I say the words that will crush him.

“Jordan, I’m done.”

I’m cool as a poisonous apple. No warmth in my tone. No regret in my eyes. No uncertainty in my words.

The blood rushes out of his face.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that unless you mean it. We swore we would never play games, Jocelyn. If you’re saying this, I believe you.”

My back is stiff and my glass nearly empty already. “Jordan, just go to bed. I’ll be gone by the morning.”

I can see I have hurt him. He looks like I just told him I’d murdered his dog and I’d done it for fun.

He gives a small shake of the head and comes over to me. He kisses me on top of the head. “Please come to bed, Jocelyn. If you go, I know you mean it. I don’t want that. But I can’t fight for us every day and every night.”

“Go!” I scream it with such unexpected vigor that I see it shock him even more than it shocks me. “Get the fuck away from me.”

I hate myself. I can’t stop. I feel possessed.

“I’ll give you some space. Jocelyn, please don’t go. I’ll be right in there. You don’t need to apologize or anything, just come in when you’re ready.”

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