Page 32 of The Trauma Response
I can’t ignore it, and with every attempt to work through it all, it only screams louder until I break down in tears. I can’t do this, not to Cai. I can’t expect him to pick up all my broken pieces after all these years, make me whole again, with the chance that my feelings for him are not what I think they are. I need space. Time to think this through, heal, figure out if what I’m terrified is true, actually is.
As if my pain is a beacon for Cai, my phone rings and his name appears on the screen. I have to do this. Pull it off like a Band-Aid. The faster I tell him I need some time and spaceto contemplate my life, the faster I can resolve these issues. Hopefully.
“Hey, Cai,” I answer, desperate to hear over the din in the café.
“Hey, beautiful. I was just confirming our lunch date. Wondering what you think of meeting me at Brokedown? They have a great roast beef sandwich.”
It’s now or never. Band-Aid. Pull it fast.
“Listen, Cai, I need some space, okay? I’ll just…call you when I’m ready to talk.” With that pathetic excuse, I hang up the phone. Regret and guilt strangle me, but I can’t bear the thought of hurting Cai. I’m a mess, and I have no right to expect him to fix me.
My phone rings again. It’s Cai, but I force myself to ignore it. It’ll be okay. It’s better this way. I refocus on the paperwork that must be completed and sent back to the office today. Everything is blurry thanks to the tears clouding my eyes, but I manage to get through half of it before needing a refill of coffee.
It’s likely I should have offered him a better reason, literally anything more than I gave him, but what do I say?Oh, sorry, I’ve probably been using you as a distraction and your feelings mean nothing to me?
But they do. Hedoesmean something to me. I only wish I knew how much and how deeply my own feelings run for him. I’m stuck in limbo now, unsure whether to keep up my claim that I need space, or crumble and apologize, take it back and pray I’m wrong.
“Can I help you?”
I shake my head and step forward to order more coffee and a sandwich, even as my phone rings again and again.
Chapter sixteen
She needs space? What does that even mean? How am I supposed to be settled with such an obtuse statement? I blink and stare at my phone, willing it to rewind and start over again. Surely, she must be mistaken. She didn’t mean to tellmethat she needs space, right? The only thing I can think to do is call Jackson and see if something went sideways and I’m the last to know.
After a few rings, he picks up. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Not much, but is there some reason why Whits would tell me she needs space and not to bother her, then hang up on me?”
“What? No, not that I know of. She’s excited about the new job, and as far as I know, she was going to the coffeehouse near her place to get the paperwork done today.”
“Something is definitely off with her. We had a lunch date, and I called her to see if she could meet me at Brokedown. Things went down from there, but I don’t know why.”
“Weird. I’ll give her a call,” he says.
“I just parked at Brokedown, but keep me posted if you figure it out.”
“Hopefully it’s nothing, but yeah, I’ll keep you updated.”
“Right, thanks man.” I hang up and push my door open. Having to ride in my cage of a car all day has not been fun, but the rain has been relentless since last night. On and off storms and bad drivers do not make for the best bike riding experience. With nothing better to do on my day off, I decided to hang out at home until lunch, then figured I’d see if she wanted to catch a movie or something. Now, I’m not sure what’s going on.
Inside, the tavern is practically empty. It’s still early for lunch, which is why there is a group of older gentleman arguing by the main, streetside window. The men are as much a fixture in the place as the hockey players and fried food, adding a little bit of charm you don’t find anywhere else. Today, they’re arguing about golf. It’s not my thing, so I head straight to the bar to order my usual roast chicken and mashed potatoes.
Once my order is placed, I zone out watching the television. I’m interrupted by my phone ringing and Whits’ name is on full display. “Thank goodness,” I breathe and answer. “Hey, are you—”
“Do you think you and Jackson could stop going behind my back and talking about me? I’m a grown woman and I don’t need you both hounding meconstantly.”
Wow. Okay, fair enough, but wow.
“Whits, I was worried. That’s all. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well, you did. I said I needed space, not for you to go tell Jackson something is wrong. He’s sent his wife to check on me like I’m a child.”
“I’m sorry, Whits. I don’t know what else you want me to say. One minute you were supposed to spend some time with me today, and the next you dropped out on me with no real reason.” I’m about to add that the idea of her going through a rough patch again scares me, that I don’t want her to do it alone, and I’m always going to be there for her. But she has to know that bynow. Which means she doesn’t care or doesn’t want me in that position any longer. It’s a big turnaround from the way things have been the past couple of weeks.
“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to honor my request, give me some space to think, and I’ll call you when I’m ready, okay?” Her tone begins firm but ends with a waver that Iknowmeans she’s keeping something from me, something she doesn’t want to say because it will break her argument into nothing.
Instead of calling her out and furthering her anger, I relent. I’ll give her space. “Yes. I understand.” It’s all I can muster before she hangs up. I groan and drop my phone onto the bar, rub my hands over my face, and pray for patience.
