Page 57 of Mostly My Girlfriend
She shook her head. “It’s got to end? Why? Because you suddenly decidedyou’reready. Well, maybe I’m not!Youstarted us down this path of friends.Youmade the rules. You said I shut down after my father died. Well, you shut down when you realized your birth mother abandoned you. When your parents finally told you the truth about the fact that you were born addicted to drugs. And maybe I don’t want to be with someone who is that fucked up!”
It felt like a slap across the face. My darkest secret. That I was born addicted because my biological mother couldn’t stop herself from doing drugs for nine lousy months while she carried me.
That Jules would say it in front of a stranger also hurt. Because, despite yesterday and today, that’s all Carol was to us. Really.
I stood then, slowly, making sure my legs wouldn’t give out. I ran my hand through my hair. My unique reddish-brown hair. From a mother and father whose DNA I carried, but whose faces I didn’t know. DNA coming together in a combination that made me highly intelligent but also highly volatile unless I was either under stringent control or medicated.
“You don’t want to be with someone so fucked up.” I repeated her words clearly so that they might sink in. “Then what was the point of today? Did you come here just so you could hurt me? Was this supposed to be payback?”
Jules stood and approached me, but I backed away. “Ethan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that—”
“No. You know I went to her apartment last night, right?” I said to Carol, who was quiet. “I went there, and I begged her to give me another chance. Kissed her, fucked her, and made her promise to give me one more hour or I wouldn’t let her come. That’s how I got her to meet me here today. Kicking and screaming, or should I say biting and scratching, the whole way.”
“Ethan!” Jules shouted at me.
“What? That’s not something we can share with Carol?” I asked snidely. “But my meth addiction as a baby, that’s open for discussion? Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re both too fucked up for this. I thought therapy might be a way through to the other side, but this isn’t…we’re not getting anywhere.”
In my head, it had all been so simple. Come back, admit that I screwed up, and tell her I was finally ready to love her.
What I hadn’t considered was how much I’d hurt her. How that pain would make her curl up inside herself. Just like she’d done when her father died.
I was finally ready to love her.
But now I could see…Jules wasn’t ready to loveme. And I didn’t know if there was any amount of therapy that might fix that.
I walked toward the door. If I opened it and left, then this was it. There would be no going back. I’d had to drag her here today because, the truth was, she didn’t know how to say no to me.
To me, it was proof she couldn’t let me go.Wouldn’tlet me go.
But maybe she was right. Maybe I was just the unhealthy thing she was addicted to and she needed to quit me like a bad habit.
“Ethan!” she screamed. Screamed with a level of pain I’d never heard before. I did that to her. I’d hurt her and she’d hurt me back. And we were both caught in this twisted fucking relationship.
And maybe the best thing for both of us was for me to walk away. Because even though she’d tried, she couldn’t.
I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t see her agony and I didn’t want her to see my heart breaking. My hand stayed on the doorknob. Such a simple thing to do. Open a door, close it behind me.
There was some new world out there to conquer. I suppose I could do that…without her?
“Maybe it’s okay to let go, Jules. Maybe once we’re both free of each other, the pain will stop.”
I opened the door, stepped through it and closed it behind me. There was no satisfaction in being the one to walk away this time. No sense that I’d done the right thing or the wrong thing.
Just the sense I’d lost a piece of myself. But if that piece had been cancerous…maybe this was the only way to survive.
* * *
Therapy
Julia
I dropped into the chair I hoped was behind me. Otherwise, I would have fallen flat on my ass. I was breathing heavily, as if there had been physical exertion, but there’d been none.
Other than the clenching of my hands into fists so I wouldn’t slap him.
Really, talking about making me come. In front ofour therapist!
“Julia, are you all right? Can I get you some water, tea?”
