Page 138 of Van Cort
Or perhaps it’s because I haven’t seen them – either of them – for a year.
I had to put distance between us. So, leaving was the obvious and only decision that made sense to me. For a lot of reasons. But most importantly, to ensure I could think clearly amidst the revelations they divulged. And then the idea of marriage haunted me, lingering at the back of my mind.
And even when I thought I was ready - although I’d analysed the situation from every aspect and vantage and weighed the outcome against the risks - I still didn’t call.
Petty, perhaps, but I felt like punishing them. Both of them. I wanted them to feel how they made me feel when West walked into Everett’s apartment. I thought I was going mad, and my heart felt ready to burst from my chest, broken and in pieces.
Not calling has been the only way I could rationalise and express my anger, tell them how cross and confused they made me. My blood would rise and vibrate in my veins when I thought about what they had done. Space gave me the ability to see the cruel way they played with me. But it also made me long for them in a way I hated, too.
As the weeks went on – raged on – I did the only thing I could and immersed myself in work. Work that I loved. I fed off the idea of finally being able to prove myself, of being just as good as I knew I was and being recognised for it. Proving myself professionally was a goal that I’d sought for years. And, finally, I reached it. Or at least could see myself accomplishing it. But no matter how well I was doing at work,theywere missing.
Missing from my heart.
So I called.
Everett first. Then West.
Only something had broken. My trust, for one. My ability to believe any of the words they said to me that night at the apartment, or leading up to it, was lost.
And I couldn’t let that be. I couldn’t just forget it and resolve the situation. It wasn’t a business decision; it was my life. Our lives.
So I asked them to do something.
“River.” His voice sounded strained that evening, even to my ears.
“Everett.”
“Are you okay?”
“In the literal sense of the word, yes. Is West with you?”
“He’s here.”
“I’d like to speak with both of you.”
There was a pause that held the weight of all three of us, and I knew he wouldn’t like not knowing my next move. “I’ll put you on speaker.”
West said I needed to work out who each of them were, and he was right. There was still so much I was in pain over, though. I couldn’t get past that. But I missed them. It was like I was trapped, not able to move on, and not able to get over either one of them. And if I gave into them too early, I’d resent it. I’d resent them.
That fact tore me up more than anything else.
“You showed me your feelings the way you could. You said you’d do it a hundred times over if it meant making me see what you feel for me. Well, I need you to show me again.”
“Gladly,” West answered without a beat. “I’ll fly out. We both will.”
“No. I can’t see you. I don’t think I’m ready to see you.”
“Then how can we show you?” I could hear the confusion in West’s voice.
“I want you to tell me. Write to me. Show me what I mean to you. What this means to you. Each of you. If this is it for you, if you’re both prepared to marry me, then you’ll wait. You’ll giveme this time and space. And you’ll do what you said you would. Unless it was a lie.”
The silence after that lingered.
“We’ll show you, Andie.”
It was West again.
Everett didn’t say anything. And I almost feared he wouldn’t write.
