Page 92 of Lessons in Forgiving
Between the white sheets, birds chirping and the setting evening sun. With the trees ruffling in the breeze, on a beautiful spring day, Henry and I were getting into a fight.
He should know why I’d never asked, though. The insinuation that I hadn’t cared enough to want to know seemed… rude, above all else. Because he knew how much I did—that I’d centered my entire life around him, and I’d paid for that, in a way. I could barely remember the night he’d broken up with me because of how painful the thought had been. Even now, it hurt.
We shouldn’t do this.
“I know why youdid what you did,” I repeated his words. “I didn’t need you to throw all your reasons into my face when I’d already lost one thing that day. Are you kidding me? I didn’t need to hear any of it!”
Henry shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”
“Oh my God.” I wanted to throw my head back and belly-laugh at the proposition. Instead, I just began listing. “You’re you, Henry!” The way he quirked his brows only made it worse. Like he didn’t get whatthatmight have to do with it.
“You were exactly where you were meant to be. Doing what you were supposed to do. I got in the way of that! Don’t shake your head like that, I did! You didn’t want to make time in your schedule. You didn’t even want tothinkabout making time inyour schedule! I was a distraction, so you cut me off like a useless limb. The way you do with everything else—”
His mouth opened, he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t done. “You know the worst part? That I was actually happy for you, in a way. I hated you, but I was happy for you. You’re doing what you’re supposed to do!” I repeated. “Youknowwhat you’re supposed to do. And you’re lucky enough for it to be exactly the path you’re supposed to take—the one your parents wanted for you, too. Literally the entire world wants you to do this, and I was so happy that at least you still got to do that. Without distractions.”
“Right,” he scoffed. He slipped out of bed so smoothly, I only noticed when he stood to the side of it, pulling on his pants. “It’s what everyone else wants from me. Of course it is! But has anyone ever stopped to wonder if it’s whatIwant? Just because Felix left a fucking legacy behind, because I happen to enjoy the one thing my father was known for, and because I happen to be really fucking good at it, too, that’s my life. Just decided for me! By papers and press—by anyone but me.”
His eyes sliced to his shirt on me, but he decided not to wrestle it off me to cover up completely. “My father’s corpse has more control over the trajectory of my life than I do. Is that what you mean when you sayI’m doing what I’m supposed to do? I love soccer, but do I only love it because everyone thinks I should? Do I actually enjoy it or is that just the control my dead dad still has over me?”
The question was rhetorical, but I could tell he wished I could give him an answer. “I’ve been trying to figure that out since the draft, and it almost made me lose everything I’ve worked for. If you hadn’t been there, I’m not sure if I would’ve signed those contracts in New York—” His head cocked sideways, and Henry snapped his mouth shut before, God forbid, something came out of it he hadn’t planned for.
I think it was the first time he’d voiced those feeling properly. About his Dad, the impact of his life—and death.
And I wondered if he’d felt better when he stormed out of the room. When he got into the car and drove off.
I did not. Just groaned as my head fell into the pillows, then groaned louder when they smelled like him.Fuck!
Hadn’t we been arguing about our breakup? Whyhe’dbroken up withme? He hadn’t denied my guesses. But he hadn’t confirmed them, either.
And yes, sure, what he’d said was true, and tragic and explained the ways of Henry Parker Pressley so perfectly. Explained why he did what he did, why he was the way he was. Why he thought he hated his dad and loved being in control.
But I wasn’t in the mood to be understanding. I was mad. And I decided, without calling Maeve or texting our group chat or doubting myself, that I was allowed to feel that way.
For the first time, I felt my emotions deeply enough not to question them.
CHAPTER 37
THEN, June: ten months ago
My world came to a halt for a second time the day of the article complaint when there’d been exactly one person I’d wanted to talk to, and my boyfriend wasn’t picking up the phone. My heart still beat thrice its usual speed when I rushed out of Eddie’s office. My bag still stood by my desk, and my jacket still hung over my chair when I raced down the stairs and out of the building.
The dull beeping of my third unanswered call to Henry became fainter, the roaring in my ears louder. Until I’d tried a total of seven times and then finally gave up. I figured he’d been busy with something that took priority over my feelings, because he was usually busy with things that did.
Soccer. School. Soccer again.
I’d shot him a text—or ten.
Ethics complaint. Mark.I’ll never write again.
Then wandered aimlessly across campus, because I didn’t think I could talk to anyone about what had just happened, without crying more from humiliation, disappointment, rage and confusion, and the inevitable migraine would already be bad enough as it was. The thought of Laila seeing me like this—a complete wreck, mascara streaking my face and cheeks that were a blotchy red—almost made me laugh, so going home was out of the question. The poor girl would have a heart attack.
I’d wandered and wandered, unable to care where I was going, and eventually ended up at Henry’s apartment. No one answered when I rang, and I couldn’t find it in me to care about that, either. It was like the life had been drained out of me, andI wasn’t quite sure what to do with my body being nothing but a useless vessel.
Was this what it felt like to have your dreams destroyed? To have everything that had been just out of reach taken away completely? Put at the end of a marathon you hadn’t prepared for?
I honestly wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting in front of Henry’s condo. His neighbors came and went, were probably briefly worried about the strange girl sitting on the curb of their apartment complex before moving on with their day like my life hadn’t just been fundamentally changed. The sun was beginning to set, and I was all out of pity tears.
“Paula?” Henry’s voice rang through the haze of my mind, and it was the only coherent, audible thing in there. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?” He crouched in front of me before I could’ve even attempted to get up. “I called you back a hundred times. They all went straight to voicemail.”
