Page 52 of When I Come Back
Having to then face our friends, all dressed up and ready to celebrate with us, felt like my own personal hell.
“She’s… not coming,” I said, looking around the room, from one pitying set of eyes to another. The room was silent, and I felt about two inches tall.
A week, three clipped phone calls, and very little sleep later, and I’m not feeling any better than I was that night. I feel abandoned, but I also feel like I’m being unfair. She’s dealing with a lot with her mom’s new diagnosis. She’s busy looking at treatment options and nursing care, but if I could just get more than a few sentences out of Thea on the phone, I’d feel better. There’s a deep, dark chasm between us, and I can’t find a way to scale it.
It’s Monday afternoon when I hear from her next. The restaurant is closed, and I’m attempting to use my day off to catch up on sleep, not that it’s working. I’m lying on the couch when my phone rings, and as soon as I see it’s Thea calling, I’m scrambling to pick it up.
“C–Cary?” Her voice is soft.
“Hi, Lemon. I’ve missed you,” I say. She is a balm to the nerves that have been wreaking havoc inside me since she left. “How’s your mom doing?”
“Listen, I umm… I don’t really know how to say this.” She lets out a long breath. “I—I think I have to stay.”
“Okay, I get it,” I say, nodding my head even though she can’t see me.
“It’s worse than I thought. My mom needs more help than I realized. She needs me here.”
“Of course. Do you think you’ll be another week? Do you want me to fly out there and help too? I’m sure I could get Mike to—”
“No, Cary,” she cuts me off, an edge to her tone. “I… I have to stay. Indefinitely.”
It takes some time for my mind to catch up to what she’s saying. I look around our apartment, at the furniture we’ve acquired from friends and yard sales. The pictures Thea’s put up on the walls of us smiling, happy.
“Say something, please,” she says.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Thea,” I reply. I’m fighting the emotions bubbling up inside me, trying to keep my voice even. “It kind of sounds like you’re moving back to South Carolina.”
There’s another long silence, and I think I hear a quiet sob, but she seems to have covered the phone to muffle the sound.
“What are you saying right now? What does this mean?” I ask.
“I think it’ll be easier this way. You have your hands full with your new job. You won’t have to worry about me anymore. We both know I wasn’t going anywhere in Seattle,” she rambles. I try to cut in, but her words don’t stop. “I’ve been stuck in the same serving job for almost a year now, and the marketing jobs I’ve interviewed for haven’t gone my way.” I call her name a few times, but she doesn’t take a breath and doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Thea,” I say louder. She stops talking, and there’s a beat of silence. Two. Three. Then I whisper, “Are we over?”
“I think we both know we’ve been over for a while.”
My eyes catch on the blue velvet box I placed on the bookshelf holding all of our favorite paperbacks. The ones with the broken spines that we’ve read over and over again.
I wish I could say I remember the rest of the conversation, but for all I know I stopped talking and she hung up on me after calling my name a few times or maybe I begged for her to explain.
We’ve been over for a while.I think that statement broke something in me. Why do I feel so blindsided by this? If we both knew we were over, shouldn’t this be less of a shock?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thea
Iwake to the smell of bacon filling my living room and a sore neck from sleeping on the couch. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, allowing my ears to assess whatever is happening before I do. All the events from last night come crashing back to me full force. I’m not as angry though, I mostly feel numb now. I wonder how much he remembers since he’s apparently cooking himself a goddamn meal in my kitchen.
I let my eyes slowly blink open, squinting as the bright morning light shines in on my face through the windows. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet which is perfectly fine with me, it gives me an extra moment to decide how to handle things. Last night would have been the more opportune time to come up with the morning-after plan, but it was late, and I was done thinking about it for the night. Pressing firmly into the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, I decide maybe it’s for the best that we talk before I kick him out.
I take another second before bringing attention to myself. My eyes drag down his body, annoyed that he’s dressed in his pants from last night but seems to have forgotten his shirt in my bedroom.
I sit up, allowing the blanket to fall from my chest and swing my legs onto the floor. The instant I do, he turns to face me. There are dark circles under his eyes like he didn’t sleep well.
Serves him right.
I yawn and stretch when he says, “Hey… I, uhh, I made you breakfast.”
