Page 82 of This Life and All the Rest
“Why would you have these?” I push my hands through my hair and pull. “This doesn’t make sense, Macon.” I raise my voice because I need to hear myself over the pounding in my head. “You abandoned me. You didn’t care. You left me alone because you didn’t care.”
He shakes his head, and my tears fall faster.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I yell again, and fling my hand backward, pointing at the paintings. “What is this?”
“I never abandoned you. I couldn’t. You have to know that, Lennon.”
He walks toward me, and I back up, bumping into the paintings. He stops.
“You’re mine,” he says, his voice full of conviction. “You’vealwaysbeen mine, and I’ve always been yours. That hasn’t changed. You belong with me.”
“No. No! You and I are nothing. I belong in Paris.”
“That’s bullshit,” he spits, and I cut him off.
“Why are you doing this?” I yell. “Why are you messing with my head again?”
I start to pace, my fingers pressed to my temples. Everything is so confusing, so muddled. None of this is right.
I belong in Paris.
I’m a successful painter.
I don’t belong here. I don’t belong with Macon. He shouldn’t have my painting. He shouldn’t have painted me.
Macondoes notcare about me. He never has.
“I’m not messing with your head, Lennon,” he growls. “You’rethe one who refused to come back.You’rethe one who decided to stay in England and go to art school without telling anyone.”
“I did what I had to do!”
“That’s bullshit! You got stubborn. You threw a temper tantrum for being sent to England early, and you cuteveryoneoff. You were supposed to come back, and you didn’t.”
“Don’t you dare put this on me,” I sneer. “You don’t know anything.”
“Yeah, well whose fault is that?” he snaps back, and my mouth drops open in shock.
He’s really trying to say this is my fault? That I chose this?
“Youabandonedme,” I say. “Youignoredme. You ignored me when I needed you. You don’t get to shame me for finally making my own decisions.”
“I went torehab, Lennon!” he shouts, angry and desperate. “What fucking universe are you living in? I was inrehab. I was getting clean so I could be good enough for you. But I got out and you hadn’t come back.Youleftme.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No. That’s wrong. You’re lying.”
“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”
He stops and squeezes his eyes shut, the only sound in the small room is our rapid breathing.
“I fucking went to rehab forus,” he says, his voice shaking. “So I could love you right.”
Love.
So I could love you.
The words echo inside my head, slamming from side to side until my ears ring.
No. No. This is wrong.
