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Not that I would want to push any of what happened on to him, but there is so much he doesn’t know. That he wasn’t there for. It makes me realize how inseparable we’ve been over the years. It doesn’t feel right to have some part of me he doesn’t know.
Pushing the thoughts away, I open the door and step through.
After our months apart, it feels odd to be alone with him. I can feel his presence by the door, but I can’t face him now for some reason. I go over to the bags tossed by Cy on the bed to unpack whatever Jay brought for me.
The silence between us is brutal. I don’t know where to start.
My breath releases as I hear Jay clear his throat.
“So…” He pauses. “How are you?”
That gets me to turn around and face him. I am dumbfounded.
“Sorry. That was stupid. It sounds like something you say to an ex when you run into them at a restaurant.” There is a slight chuckle in his tone, but I know we both feel the tension behind the humor.
“This is weird, right?”
“Kinda.” I can see him thinking hard. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart for such a long time.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” My gaze drops to my hands. I can’t bear looking at him. Which is a different kind of discomfort.
I startle when Jay’s finger comes underneath my chin to raise my face to him. I didn’t even notice him walk towards me.
“I missed you. So much,” he says.
The look he gives me brings tears to my eyes.
“Hey. Don’t cry. I think we’ve done enough of that.”
Which, of course, is the exact wrong thing to say. It’s like telling a woman to calm down when she has every right to express her anger. So the tears start falling.
Both of his hands come up to cradle my face and wipe away the tears. Then he places the most delicate kiss on my forehead.
I want to tell him everything, but I don’t know where to start. It feels like if I start at the beginning, I will fall apart.
I was in this state of limbo for weeks. I can’t talk about what happened with anyone. Partially because it’s too painful. But mostly, I don’t remember. Something broke in me. Huge chunks of time were stolen from me.
My life was stolen from me.
How do you tell someone you can’t remember the worst experience of your life? How do you explain you’re broken? That because of it, you’ll never feel safe.
My best friend sees straight through me as always.
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ll be here to listen, but I don’t need to know. A selfish part of me wants to hear everything, but you don’t have to tell me anything because you think it will make me feel better.” He presses another kiss to my temple, and I melt into the security he offers. “Kay?”
“Yeah.”
The sigh he lets out next makes me tense though.
“But I do need to tell you something,” he says.
Taking me by the hand, he leads me over to the bed. He drops my hand to make his way to the center but reaches back for me when I don’t follow.
“I need confessional to get this out, okay?”
The worry rising in my chest stills.
This was our thing since early in our friendship. The first time, shortly after we met, Jay found out my girlfriend at the time was cheating on me. He asked to come over to my apartment but spent ten minutes pacing in the living room. When I finally convinced him to sit down, he instinctively pulled me into him, with my back against his chest. Evidently, his Catholic upbringing makes giving bad news a lot easier if you don’t have to look at the person.
