Page 50 of When I Come Back
“So you’ve just been living one giant lie all this time?” I ask knowing this conversation should wait until he’s sober, but I’m not able to hold back the question.
"Yes. Maybe? All I know is I've been living for you my whole life. Even when you left me. God—I went as far as to grow my hair out—and don't worry, you were right, I think it looks better this way too." He drunkenly laughs at himself, but I don’t have it in me to find anything funny right now.
Instead of responding, I start walking to the car. I shouldn’t be having this conversation with him right now, maybe not ever. Nothing he’s saying is making any sense. When I left, we were in a terrible place. We’d been fighting constantly. I was so unhappy, and neither of us were discussing it. I’m not going down the rabbit hole of possibilities when he’s too drunk to explain further.
Once I’m at the car, I look up to see he’s still standing there, just watching me. I open my door to get in, standing there for a moment before saying, “Get in before I leave you here, Cary.”
It takes him a couple minutes, but he stumbles to the car on his own. He fumbles to fasten his seatbelt, but finally secures it. The car ride home is virtually silent aside from the music I put on. Cary is almost asleep by the time I’m pulling back into my driveway. I give his shoulder a shake to let him know we’re here. He’s able to unbuckle and shuffle out of the seat without my help.
Getting him inside is much harder than getting him out of RED was. The liquor seems to really be hitting him. I still don’t want to sleep in my bed that smells like him, and I don’t want to risk my couch having his scent all over it either. I help him walk to my room and dump him on the bed. He can sleep in his clothes, I’m not undressing him or giving him anymore of my energy tonight. I do grab the small trash can from my bathroomand sit it beside the bed in case he wakes up sick, but that’s more for my own benefit than his.
I close the door behind me, hearing him groan from the other side as he shifts around on the bed. Grabbing my blanket, I situate myself back on my couch and lay there staring at the ceiling for another hour before sleep finally finds me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carrington
8 Years Ago
(23 Years Old)
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seth asks me. “I thought you guys haven’t been in a good place.”
“She just had a rough night. She finally heard from that job she had her heart set on, but they went with someone else,” I say, my eyes fixed on the display cabinet.
“I don’t mean just yesterday. Though, that was hard to watch. I didn’t know a girl her size could put back so much liquor.”
“Yeah.” I run my fingers through my short hair and over the back of my neck. “She took it a lot harder than I thought she would. And she’s definitely paying for it this morning.” I had left Thea in bed with the curtains drawn and some ibuprofen and water on our bedside table. I have a feeling she’s going to nurse that hangover at least until late afternoon.
“But what about what you told me about the fights you’ve been having? Are you sure this is the best time for,” he motions down with an open palm, “this?”
I look down at the rings behind the glass, sparkling like the sun off the water at the lake. Like Thea’s eyes when she turned her unabashed smile at me when we first moved into our shitty apartment. Like the way her hair shines that lemony color when the sun hits it just right.
“Yes, this was always the plan,” I say with a small smile. My mind is still flooded with memories spinning on an ongoing reel—running around and exploring the lake as kids, finding the first ring on the bank of the lake that I knew I had to give to Thea, our first kiss, laying on the hood of the car somewhere in the middle of the desert on our road trip to Seattle, cooking dinner together on a random weeknight.
Unfortunately, those happy memories are soon replaced by the last few months of silent evenings spent on opposite sides of the couch, watching Thea leave the bathroom and pretending I didn’t hear her crying, then me shutting down because I don’t know how to help her.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. It’s just a bump in the road. Every couple has them. As soon as she lands a job at one of the big marketing firms, things will get back to normal. We’re happy. We have big plans. I got my dream job as head chef in one of Seattle’s most popular upscale restaurants starting in a few weeks, and I know it’s just a stepping stone to me owning my own restaurant. I have a five-year plan, and Thea’s at the center of it. I can’t do this life without her. And buying the perfect ring is the first step in showing her that.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” An older man steps to face us on the other side of the glass display, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are we shopping for anything in particular today?”
“Yes,” I say and produce a print out of the ring I found on the store’s website. I’ve been browsing online for the perfect ring for a while now. I’ve been saving for it for even longer. When I came across Romero Jewelers’ website, I knew I’d find what I’m searching for here. They specialize in antique and estate jewelry, which means most of the pieces are one-of-a-kind and not necessarily “mainstream.” Just like Thea. After scouring dozens of pages of rings on the site, one jumped out at me, and I knew it was the one. “I was hoping to see this one.” I hand over the paper.
“Oh, that’s a lovely piece. Let me grab it for you.” The man steps away, walks behind the counter, and makes his way to the other side of the store. He zeroes in on the right display cabinet and busies himself with unlocking it and getting the ring out.
I turn back to Seth with a smile. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so excited about something. Even getting my new position doesn’t match the anticipation I feel about my future with Thea. He doesn’t appear to match my enthusiasm. His lips are pulled into a tight line, and his eyes look… sad?
“Just say whatever it is you’re thinking,” I say.
“Look, it’s nothing. You seem like you’ve already made up your mind,” he says.
“Fuck, Seth, just spit it out.”
Seth sighs, squares his shoulders, and, looking me directly in the eye, says, “I think you’re making a mistake.” His words instantly douse the flames of my excitement. “I just… I don’t think this is the right time.” He looks down at our feet for a beat and then back up at me. “I’m not sure she’s the right person for you.”
My heart sinks at his words. I knew he didn’t like Thea. I’m not sure of the exact reason why, but they never clicked. She thinks he’s too bristly with his always-serious demeanor, and he sees her as aimless and unmotivated because she hasn’tbeen able to secure a position in her field. I’ve been the buffer between the two of them, and it’s worked until now. His words are a step too far. My temper flares.
“Not the right person for me?” I hiss through my teeth so we’re not overheard by the other customers in the shop. “She’s theonlyperson for me. Has been pretty much since the day I met her. She’s forever, Seth. This,” I tap a finger on the display case, “is just a fucking formality.”
