Page 24 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
“It’s not like that with him.” My reply is quiet. I hate admitting that I’m not head over heels for Matthias when I should be. “I want to be like that with him.”
“Do you really?” If I sit with myself and think really hard, there’s the little voice that says no, but then there’s the louder voice that says yes. Matthias is showing up where no one else is, and that means something to me.
“I think so. He deserves that.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be you that gives that to him.” Logically, I know that, but I can’t help but feel like it does have to be me. He waited all these years, for me, and me for him, too. Up until 3 months ago, I still pined for Matthias. “Regardless,” Jess motions with her hand to figuratively clear the air, “one thing I know for certain is Liam can be blamed for all of this.”
I burst out laughing. “Hundred percent, couldn’t agree more.”
I really thought tonight would be the night I’d stop feeling absolutely miserable. With Jess and Damian both here, I was certain of it. But by 8:30 I had to excuse myself to go to bed. I felt sick to my stomach, and if anything, the anxiety seemed amplified tonight. It’s not like I have any chance at actually falling asleep, but at least if I’m in bed, my best friend and ex-husband don’t have to watch me fall apart.
I pull the oversized pregnancy pillow in firmly to my chest, squeezing it tight. I try to focus all my nervous energy and fear into clenching it as hard as possible, but it does little to ease the pressure in my chest. I release it, flinging my arms back against the mattress in defeat when a gentle knock on the door pulls me out of my misery.
“Come in!” I yell, but I don’t even bother to get off the bed.
“How you doing?” Jess asks gently because I’m sure she already knows how I’m doing.
“Ugh, miserable.” A small cry breaks free from me at the last moment. “I’m pitiful, I know.”
“You’re not pitiful, babe.”
“I am. Pregnant and alone. Sad and despondent. Tragic. Oh, and weak, too. Is it any wonder why I’m by myself?”
“Itisa wonder. And you’re not pitiful or weak. Someone did this to you, but this isn’t who you are.” Jess crawls into the bed and lays down next to me, so I roll over to face her.
“Tell me something awful about Tommy so I feel better about being alone,please?”
Her response is lightening fast. “He clips his toenails over the bathtub.”
I fake a gag. “Yep, that’ll do it. All better. I’m cured. I need no man.”
Jess just laughs. “Damn straight you don’t,” making me laugh, too, before she changes her tone. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I reply.
“Do you ever think about what it would be like if Liam came back? Like if he came back here and wanted to be together?”
“I do.” The first couple of weeks after he left, there wasn’t a day, hour, or minute that went by that I didn’t wish he would come back to me. “Well, Idid. I try not to think about him coming back anymore.” It hurts too much.
He still shows up in my dreams on the rare occasion I do sleep, but that’s all they’ll ever be,dreams. It would be a dream, him coming back, wanting to be together.Andme forgiving him. But that’s the most fantastical part of it all, thinking I could forgive him. I honestly don’t think I can.
There’s no reasonable explanation that would make this all okay. At least not one I can conjure. He made very conscious and permanent decisions that I can’t move past. How could I be okay with a man who seemingly aimed to inflict the most amount of pain and humiliation possible and then completely abandoned me? I get the chills when I think about it, but I keep coming back to this same conclusion:He never actually loved me.
Was it just an act? I mean, how duplicitous can one person be? I don’t even fucking know him.I never even knew him.
“Care to share?” Jess pulls me into the present.
“Huh? I don’t know, it’s all just dark and depressing shit.”
“Well, that’s sorta the reason I’m here…”
“Right,” I sigh. “I just keep coming back to the fact that he probably never loved me. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But I can’t figure out why he would go through all the trouble of asking me to marry him, and telling me he loved me, when he didn’t. What was it about then? Was he just in it for money? Was he just preying on the fact that I'm a lonely, pathetic human, and he knew he could take advantage? What was it, Jess?” I let out another sigh, “What the fuck was it?”
Her mouth tilts up slightly in a comforting way, but not in a smile. “This isn’t what you wanna hear, but I do think he loved you. That picture you sent me was worth a thousand, no,” she shakes her head, “amillionwords. I don’t know why he did what he did, but I do think he loved you. Either that, or he deserves a fucking Oscar for his performance.”
“I want to hate him, Jess…” she reaches out for my hand.
“But you don’t.”
