Page 112 of As a Last Resort
“You can’t say you don’t feel anything for me.”
“That doesn’t matter.”Kitchen table, coffee table, kitchen counter…
“Everythingmatters.”He stepped in front of me and blocked my path.“Tell me you feel the exact same way about me that you did a month ago.”
The truth was I feltsafea month ago.
I knew what was expected of me.I knew my job, my responsibilities.I knew where I fit and didn’t.I knew nothing was guaranteed but if I worked really hard, there was a smaller chance I would be surprised by something and it would hurt.I could deal with an overconfident, selfish boss and a cocky coworker whomade inappropriate sex jokes.What I couldn’t deal with was someone laying out their heart for me and expecting me to do the same.
For God’s sake, where were my keys?
I looked past him toward the door and there they were, in the key dish.
“Stay.”The intensity in his eyes was blazing.They were pleading, aching, begging me to say something.He crossed the distance between us and cupped my face in his hands.His fingers laced into my hair and his mouth desperately consumed mine.My knees betrayed me as they melted underneath his touch.The familiar smell of the ocean cradled me as the room stilled.
Alarms fired in my head for every reason this was wrong.I felt the emotion pulling me down.If I didn’t stop, it would drown me.There wouldn’t be any coming back from this.It would mean everything would change.This life I had built brick by brick would come crashing down.No, not crashing down—bulldozed and set on fire with semi-grade gasoline and lit with a blowtorch.
I saw it play out in my head.I’d move back home and run into my old elementary school teacher at the grocery store newly pregnant, with a one-year-old screaming in my cart.I’d work in the concession stand on Friday nights at the football field handing over greasy aluminum-wrapped hot dogs to pimple-faced teenagers.I’d have a high school class reunion every Saturday night at Harpoon’s where I’d strike up small talk with people I used to lock myself in my room over, their words spearing through my fourteen-year-old self-worth like a hot iron through ice cream.
I’d give up everything I’ve worked so hard to build the last seven years, and all for what?For the hope that this little flutter would grow into something more and actually be worth it?Trust that itwould never leave me on the floor of my bedroom covered in tears and drowning in snot because he decided I was a little more broken than he thought I was?Or maybe I didn’t want three kids and a dog but I wanted a corner office with a view and that just wouldn’t work here?
Could I really roll the dice and hope he’d never get sick with a brain tumor, or trust that he wouldn’t crack and break if something too hard came our way?
I pulled away from him.I couldn’t do it.I couldn’t say yes and give up everything.
His lips followed after mine.
“Don’t.”I put my hand on his chest and took a step back.
“Don’t leave.”
I grabbed my keys off the dish and walked out the screen door.I refused to look back.This wasn’t going to be one of those endings where the girl changes her mind at the last minute, turns back, and runs into her lover’s arms.My life didn’t work like that.Pain didn’t just go away.Ghosts didn’t just decide to lie down and take a nap.
“What about your mom?”he called out.
“What about her?”
“What about when she comes back?You don’t want to be here for that?”
“I’ll pass on taking a front-row seat to the inevitable destruction that’ll follow that one.”
“How can you say that?”
“You haven’t been here for every other time she’s beendoing great.It’s great until it’s not, then it sucks your soul dry.”
“What about Lexi’s wedding?She’s getting married next weekend.”
“Lexi doesn’t need me there.”I answered him without even turning my head as he followed me down the shell driveway.
“She wants you there.”
“Don’t use her to try and guilt me into staying.I don’t have a choice, Austin.”
“You always have a choice.”
I kept walking.Just a few more feet and I could tie this up and shelve it right next to all the other boxes from this place.“You really don’t think you deserve to be happy.”It wasn’t a question.
“My definition of happiness is very different from yours.”
