Page 61 of The Wrong Sister

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” My voice cracks and I’m screaming at him, my whole body rigid in a futile attempt to keep from shaking. “NOW!”

Griffin stands up as if from a dream. He looks hurt and confused. “Mina…”

“Please.” I can barely get a whisper out. “Please go, Griffin. I need to be alone right now. Please leave me alone.”

I shut myself in my bathroom, hiding in there until I hear the front door close. Only then do I let myself cry. The tears come hot and intense. I sink to the floor, cradling myself and sobbing. Why did I do that? It’s too soon. It’s too much. I should have kept it to myself. Before I can get good and angry with myself, I ask the more painful question: why couldn’t he say it back?

Is it an issue with Griffin? He’s not there yet? Or he’s not sure how he feels? Maybe he doesn’t see me as a long-term, love and romance kind of a woman. Oh God, what if this was just sex? Lots and lots of mind-blowing sex that blinded me to the fact that he was never going to want more frommeof all people? Did he even truly choose me or did we sort of fall into this? This fuck-up could be the thing he needs to graciously bow out.

That gets the tears flowing again. How many times do I have to say it? I fucking hate crying. Eventually, I drag myself from the bathroom floor to awkwardly wash my face one-handed and blow my nose. I pull on clothes and curl up on my couch, unsure what to do with myself. What now? I don’t go back to work until Monday. I’m too tired to attempt my first solo shower with this stupid cast. I’m too embarrassed to confess what happened to Catherine or Rafferty. I don’t have any other close relationships and I sabotaged the best thing in my life. FUCK.

I order a pizza, forgo my pain meds for beer, and turn onPsych. I’m not sure how many episodes in I am—I can’t recall a single thing I’ve watched—when I hear a key in my door. Rafferty lets himself in, dropping down on the couch.

“P.B.P. time, ya? Anything left for me?” I gesture towards the box on my coffee table, then back towards the fridge. “You want another?” I nod and he goes to the kitchen, coming back with two beers.

“Why are you here, Raff?”

He hands me the beer and grabs himself a slice of pizza. “Griff sent me. He’s worried about you.”

An unwelcome tear slips down my cheek. “He doesn’t get to be worried about me. And he doesn’t get to send other people to check on me.”

“Pretty sure he felt like he wouldn’t be welcome to do it himself after you told him to, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out.’” I concentrate on my beer, trying to appear unaffected. “Meens, what happened? Griff was tight-lipped. All he would tell me was that you didn’t want him here.”

“I listened to you, that’s what happened.” My voice raises embarrassingly, cracking at the admission. “I let myself feel things! I acknowledged those feelings and I named them and then, like a fucking idiot, I said them out loud!”

He doesn’t say anything, merely looks at me sympathetically and leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. I close my eyes, sharing breath with my best friend, and letting his calm settle over me. I continue more softly.

“I told him I love him. I told him, and he said nothing. He just stared at me. So I freaked out and made him leave.”

He nods slowly, taking another piece of pizza from the box.“Wanna watch some more?”

Rafferty is the best. He doesn’t ask me questions or make me talk about it anymore. It’s exactly what I need. We sit side by side, not talking, just laughing. P.B.P. Time. Who cares that my heart feels like an exposed wire? So I love someone that doesn’t love me back. I’ve got pizza, beer, andPsych. I’ve got a best friend who understands me no matter how fucked up I am. I’ve survived worse than this, right? Hell, I survived worse this month! Even if this does feel far, far worse. I’ll give myself the weekend to get over my abject humiliation and then get back to life and work. It won’t be as rich without Griffin, but I can’t think about that right now. One day I may even be glad that I allowed myself to be open and vulnerable enough to love someone, no matter the outcome. Maybe. More likely: it will always hurt and I’ll wall off my heart to protect myself and die numb and alone.

37

griffin

I’m numb but there’s something brewing. I feel restless and anxious. I wouldn’t call myself an emotional guy by any stretch of the imagination and now I feel like I’m trying to process too many emotions at once. I walk back to my apartment in my jeans, my bag in one hand and my shoes and shirt in the other. A group of women in a convertible drive past me and howl, cackling about my walk of shame. They’re not right but they’re not wrong either. There is some shame bubbling around in there. I drop my stuff inside the door of my apartment, noting how stale and empty it feels. Mina is my color.

How did I get here? I don’t even understand. I thought Mina said she loved me. I thought the morning up to that shining moment had beautifully crested, like the perfect wave, into the best day of my life. So how did it all come crashing down so quickly? I couldn’t breathe, the rush of happiness was so intense. I froze, trying to comprehend.Classic Griffin. And now, instead of basking in actual, fucking, real true love, I’m locked in underneath the waves, being tumbled endlessly, unable to break to the surface for air.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when a knock on my door rouses me. I’m still standing in the same spot. Rafferty is at my door. His eyes sweep over me and he shrugs, pushing his way in.

“Do I want to know why you’re standing here half-dressed?” I shake my head. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Raff looks at me closer, in that particular way he has, really seeing me. “You’re not ok. Where’s Mina?”

I swallow hard. “Home. Will you check on her? Make sure she’s alright?”

“I’d be happy to but, is there any reason why her boyfriend isn’t checking on her?”

“She wouldn’t want me to.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The part where she screamed ‘get the fuck out’at me.”

“That’d do it,” he sighs. I drop down onto the couch and Raff sits on the coffee table, directly in front of me. “Is this on you?”

My eyes had been unfocused. I look at him, considering it carefully. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened.”

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