Page 125 of Playbook
“I’m not.”
“Then why stop seeing her?”
He lets out a long breath.“I just wasn’t feeling it.”
There’s something he’s not telling me, but I can’t figure out what. “Did she dump you?”
“It was mutual,”he replies dryly.
“I don’t get it then. She’s hot. You two seem to get along. It’s uncomplicated. And the sex sounds like it’s fun.”
I get another look at that comment, but come on, our bedrooms are close.
“You’re deaf. I am not,”I remind him.
He flips me off in reply.
“What is the actual problem?”It’s cheering me up focusing on his life instead of mine.
“She talks a lot.”
“O-kay.” One side of my mouth lifts. Of course, I’ve noticed that Wren likes to hear herself talk, but I didn’t realize this was a dealbreaker for him.“And that’s a problem? Because it doesn’t sound like a problem when she’s yelling your name.‘Archer! Oh, Archer!’”
He looks like he wants to strangle me, but I feel better so, whatever.
“No, but…” He hesitates like he doesn’t want to admit whatever it is to me.
“She always forgets to look at me while she’s jabbering on,”he says finally.“Or she covers her mouth with her hand.”He demonstrates, resting a hand over his mouth so it’s impossible to read his lips.
He lets his hand drop and shakes his head.“It’s dumb, I know. I’ve dated plenty of women that I’ve struggled to communicate with at times. I think that’s just to be expected, but Wren treats my hearing loss like it’s an urban myth. I’m constantly having to ask her to repeat herself or just smiling and nodding and pretending like I understood and hoping I didn’t agree to something crazy. It’s exhausting and I’m always on edge. Sex is the only time we manage to communicate just fine.”
Sympathy for him and anger at her duel for my primary emotional state. What an inconsiderate asshole. I guess anger won out.
I think back on the times I’ve been around them, seeing it all differently now. I thought he was just tuning her out. I should have known better. Fuck.
“I’m sorry,”I say. And I am. Sorry I wasn’t there when he ended things. I’m sure he was way too nice about it.
“It’s whatever. Dating is too complicated right now anyway. Sex, parties, and fun only from now on. The Brogan Six playbook so to speak. Pre-London, that is.”
I know he’s deflecting, but I let him off the hook. Lord knows I have done enough of that lately.“Let’s hope I’m not Post-London.”Thinking of my girlfriend makes my chest tighten.
“I thought you said she was great about everything.”
“She was, but I’m supposed to see her tonight and she’s going to have questions…”I trail off.“How do I explain it?”
“What?”
“All of it. My parents. That the people who are supposed to love me more than anyone or anything in this world could give a shit less about me. Or that the thought of having another one of me was so awful they gave my sister up for adoption and never bothered to tell me. I was barely two when she was born, so it’s not like I expect to remember much from that timeframe, but it still seems like something I should have known. I guess it’s on par for them. The only time they’ve contacted me in the past ten years was to ask for money. Not even a fucking ‘Hey, how are you? Congrats on the job!’ ‘Proud of you, son!’”
“Fuck them. It’s their loss.”
God, I wish I could write them off as easily as he does, or at least write off their actions as having nothing to do with me. What the hell did I do to make them hate me so much? I wasn’t a bad kid, I don’t think. I tried my best to stay quiet and not need them for anything. No matter how small I made myself, they weren’t happy with me.
They didn’t care if I got good grades at school or if I played a good game. They didn’t care about me, period. And they didn’t want me around. They were only interested in going out and hanging with friends. At least as best I remember it. If they were home, they were sleeping, or our house was filled with people I didn’t know. They weren’t addicts, I don’t think, though they did plenty of partying. It just seemed like they weren’t interested in being parents. Sometimes I think it’d be easier if they were. I know that’s fucked-up, but if I could blame it on anything other than myself, I would. Otherwise, it just feels like it was my fault they didn’t love me.
Seeing Sabrina put me back in that place. If she is my sister and they gave her away, why didn’t they do the same for me? Was there some time they did want me, and I fucked it all up? I know what Archer would say if I asked him, but I can’t help but wonder. Was I the problem?
We eat the rest of our lunch in silence, but when we get up to leave, Archer says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there last night or this morning.”
