Page 56 of The Art of Loving Ellie
Frowning, he makes a small motion like he wants to step toward me again. “I’m so sorry—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Aunt Jane has offered me a job, and a place to stay back in Texas. I’ll be moving back before Christmas Eve.” I tilt my chin up, trying to be brave about my decision, but he doesn’t waver. He’s reading me, testing me, and trying to gauge if I’m telling him the truth, or if I’m just trying to cut him deeper.
“If you wouldn’t have pushed me so hard. If you would have left it all alone, I wouldn’t have had to watch him die. I didn’t want to know him again!” my voice cracks and I sit back and watch my grief take charge. It takes on a life of its own as it grasps at any excuse it can hold on to and exploits it. “I had my dream job, I was self-proficient, I was happy just the way things were before I ran intoyou.”
He shakes his head at me, my words only fueling his desire to fix this as he closes the distance between us again, bringing his face closer to mine. My eyes travel over worry lines that have been permanently marked in-between his brows, and there’s a five o’clock shadow dusting his chin and neck.
His whiskey eyes are wild when he asks me, “Why are you doing this Ellie?” The tone of his voice takes on an angry edge, and I can’t think of a time since I’ve known him that I’ve ever seen him so upset. “You’re single-handedly sabotaging something great between us, for what? Because you'rescared?” he laughs under his breath.
Pointing back toward the hall in the direction of my bathroom, he focuses on me intently. “Look in that mirror right now, and ask yourself if you even believe a word that you’re saying to me. Do you seriously believe thatI’mthe source of your problems?”
Is he implying that I’m the problem? I almost scoff at him. “Yes, I do. You push and you push, Tyler! That’s all you do. Everything is a challenge for you.” I brace my hands across his chest moving him away from me slightly, but only because he allowed it.
“This,” I motion rapidly back and forth between us, “can’t happen anymore. If I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that happiness—” I sigh, momentarily at a loss for words, “it always has a price.” I don’t recognize the gritty sound of my voice as the tears I’ve been begging for start to gather behind my eyes.
Tyler pauses, contemplating our argument for a moment before taking the liberty of placing his hand around the side of my neck. He meets my gaze, begging me silently to stop doing this, and in a desperate last attempt to keep me, he crushes his mouth over mine. He’s pleading with me in every connection our lips make not to destroy us. His very essence fills my senses, fueling the flame between us, and I return his kiss wildly, pulling him to me hard and giving him everything I have—knowing this will be the last time.
With a firm push, I straighten my arm in an attempt to separate us. His chest moves up and down frantically with the passion of our kiss, but he remains unmoving this time despite the force I’ve pushed him with.
“I don’t want to be with anyone else, Ellie. You’re the one, don’t you get that?” There’s a tightening in his voice as he forces a hold on his emotions.
“I’m sorry, Tyler.” I can’t force my eyes to look at him. “There’s nothing left here for me anymore.”
The weight of all of my failures surround me, and I think to myself that even now, as I take my anger and grief out on him, he deserves so much better than anything I am capable of giving him.
I close my eyes, keeping them shut as I hear him release a long sigh. After a moment, the sound of his boots crossing the stretch of my living room to the door echoes loudly in my ears. Tears begin to pour out of my closed eyes, and I close them tighter in an attempt to stop their flow.
I hear the sound of him opening the door and then a pause. “I love you, Ellie.”
The door closes with a gentle click and as my knees hit the floor, I sob into my hands until I can no longer breathe.
∞∞∞
I’m floating in a strange in-between where I’m not as sad about the loss, but I’m not quite motivated to start my life back up, either. I’m lying in my bed, flipping through shows on the TV and I take a swig of my sprite, burping loudly. If I thought I was lacking the motivation to do anything with my life before, the experiences I’ve has these last two weeks have ensured that I’ll most likely never get it back.
Crying when you’re sad is supposed to be cathartic, but it’s only made me feel exponentially worse. Mostly because I couldn’t cry a single tear for my dying father, but the waterworks began immediately after Tyler left me two nights ago. Now, every time I start to cry, I can’t stop because I feel so guilty about it.
My phone pings on my nightstand, and I’m hoping that it’s Tyler, even though I know it’s not. Heart racing, I look and see that it’s a text from Alex.
A:Letme in.
My stomach tightens painfully and I’m confused by the text message until I hear a series of knocks at my door. Jumping up quickly, I grab a brush and run it through my ponytail. I ditch my robe for a t-shirt and pajama bottoms while my mind spins in circles. What horrible thing must have happened to bring him knocking on my door?
I gather myself, trying to appear much more put together than I currently feel, even though I’m a train wreck. Twisting the knob, I open the door coming face to face with Alexandre.
“Oh, Sugar,” he says as he gives me the once over. I know what he’s seeing, and the woman he's looking at is not the Ellie he knows. Though I may be undeserving, the pain in his eyes gives me hope that somewhere deep down he still loves and cares for me.
I move slightly, gesturing for him to come inside, and he slowly obliges.
“What?” I ask, looking down at my unkempt form.
“Well, honey, you look like the manager of a trailer park. And by the look of this place, I don’t think I’m too far off.” There’s a glint of teasing in his crystal blues, but I’m not exactly in a playful mood.
Walking past him into the kitchen, I mumble, “If you came here to insult me, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t waste your breath.”
He watches me as I sift through three different pizza boxes that have been sitting untouched in my fridge. I pull out a large slice of cold pepperoni and take a big bite out of it, chewing obnoxiously. Rolling his eyes he steps over to me, snatching the piece of pizza out of my hand, and throws it in the trash can.
“Hey!” I call after him, but he responds by pointing to the couch where he wants me to sit. I take a moment to rebel, keeping my feet planted as I stare at his beautiful face. As always, he's flawlessly put together. Not a hair is out of place, and he’s wearing a perfectly pressed dress shirt and slacks. He gives the expression ‘Fancy Pants’ a whole new meaning.
