Page 92 of I Promise You
Then his phone rings, and I’m crying heavy tears in silence.
He looks at his phone intensely.
This is the part I hate. It can’t be work calling again at this time. He just got back…no way. He can’t leave me now. This is important.
He walks further away from me. A dreadful, long, sad silence between us stops us from talking.
“So this is what you want, right? Me, gone?” he recites my words back to me, spewing them with anger and frustration.
“I—” He interrupts me.
“I'm no good for you?”
“I—”
“I’m poison to you?” he shouts, the veins in his neck making a presence, and I’m growing desperate. I haven’t seen him this hurt since the night he confessed everything.
“Danny, sto—” I try to interrupt him, but it doesn’t work. This time, there’s no stopping what’s about to happen.
“We need time apart?” he growls.
“I don’t know!” I shout, frustrated. I look into his eyes, my own searching back and forth vigorously for mercy and patience. I need him to wait for me, but…I can’t say it. I don’t think it’ll change how I feel or how he feels.
He nods, defeated…and I swear the first time when I look at his blue eyes... He’s the one that’s broken, and I’m afraid Noel was right. I think I just broke Danny beyond repair.
“I’ll make the decision for you, then. I’m leaving.” He brushes his beard with his hand, looks at me, then back at his truck. “Goodbye, Ari.”
It feels like my chest got defibrillated with pain.
Shit.
I never thought the word “goodbye” would hurt me with the devastation of an impact like it does now. A type of farewell that holds much more of a sting.
It feels like I took what we had built up these past few months, from when we first met, our journey of healing together, to his growth…and obliterated it. I depleted it like glass shattering on the floor into a trillion pieces with no repair in sight.
That’s the first time he’s ever said goodbye to me. It’s always a “see you soon,” but he didn’t say it.
“You mean, see you soon, right, Danny?” I croak out. My whole body feels like it’s going to fall over.
“I have to go.” He looks at me through a tightened jaw.
He’s really saying goodbye this time, and I’m full of regret.
He walks to his truck, but every step he takes breaks me more and more as I come to self-clarity.
“Say it!” I shout at him. My voice bleeds with sadness, pleading with him, like if he won’t say it, I’ll die. I walk after him, tripping over a rock, but I catch my balance, avoiding stumbling into the flooded lawn. My arms swing forward, and I see my reflection in a puddle, my wet hair falling into my face.
But he says nothing.
“Please say it! Saysee you soon, please.” Not one more word comes out of his mouth, and I know I went too far with my truth.
I stop walking when he gets into his truck and starts it. My chest heaves with desperation, sobbing against the freezing wind. I’m watching him through raindrops that blur my vision.
He’s actually leaving.
His engine roars as he slowly pulls out of my driveway.
He’s halfway down the road already, and I don’t know what I just did. I’m full of remorse. I watch the rain in the sky, and I blink fast.
