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“Why do you care all of a sudden?” His words lashed out like barbed wire, each syllable laden with bitterness and resentment, I winced at the venom in his tone, though at least a faint echo of sobriety tinged his speech, his slurring no longer noticeable under his blatant anger.
God, it was on the tip of my tongue. The urge to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness. I wanted to tell him that my concern stemmed from a place of love, that I had never stopped caring for him and I never would.
But his anger was a tempest, tearing through my feeble attempts at reconciliation. “It sounded like you might do something reckless. I’d never forgive myself if you hurt yourself...” My words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by his rage.
“Fuck you!” he screamed, the sound reverberating through the night’s silence like a gunshot. “You hurt me. You ruined me, broke me into pieces and tossed me away without a second thought..”
“I know,” I whispered. “I know I hurt you, but you need to take that anger out on me, not on yourself. I’m worried that you’re drinking. It’s not like you, and you have so much to look forward to in your life. Don’t be like them.”
His response was a barrage, each word a dagger aimed at my heart. “Don’t fucking talk to me like you know me. If I want to pour vodka on my Cheerios, it’s none of your goddamn business anymore. You made that very clear.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. Surely, he couldn’t mean it. Sobriety had always been a non-negotiable for him.
“I still care about you. I still want the best for you.” The words hung in the air, a weak plea for understanding despite the chaos of our fractured relationship. How could I make him see that I was doing all of this for him?
“LIAR!” he screeched into the receiver. “You played with me for your own amusement. You toyed with me and made me give up everything that mattered to me. Every coping mechanism I had, you made me get rid of. My dignity. My fucking virginity. Then when you got what you wanted and took everything from me, even my fucking name, you threw me away without a care in the world.”
I felt my heart splintering as his accusations landed, each syllable a searing reminder of the pain I had inflicted. “No, no! I didn’t do that! I swear. I meant every minute we spent together. I’m sorry I just…”
“Gray! Are you okay in there? I heard yelling,” Remy’s voice called out from the other side of my bedroom door. Shit! Somehow in all the drama I’d completely forgotten I wasn’t alone in the house. I’d be lucky if I didn’t hear Violet start crying in a couple seconds, since she was a notoriously light sleeper.
The line fell eerily silent, Colt’s voice swallowed by the void. I held my breath, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t hung up, that he was still there on the other end of the line. “Colt, are you still there?” I whispered, hoping Remy couldn’t overhear.
“Who was that?” Colt’s voice had taken on an icy quality that caused goosebumps to ripple down my arms. He sounded like a stranger, a far cry from the man I’d shared a bed with in the not so distant past.
The question caught me off guard. Why would he be angry that Remy was checking up on me? But before I could formulate a response, Colt continued, his tone laced with bitterness and resignation. “Why all the lies, Gray? You could have just told me you met someone else. At least then I could have spent the last few months having hot revenge sex with the groupies throwing themselves at me instead of going around and around in circles wondering what I did to make you change your mind so quickly. Because it seemed inconceivable to me that it would have been something you had done. I am the screw up after all.” He laughed darkly.
The confusion swirling in my mind threatened to overwhelm me as Colt’s words sank in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Colt,” I stated, my bewilderment genuine.
“Right,” he spat, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. “You must think I’m a fucking idiot. A guy is staying in your room in the middle of the night, but of course it doesn’t mean anything. Don’t ever call me again, Grayson. I never want to hear from you unless it’s your lawyer sending me the divorce papers.”
Divorce papers? No, no, no. His words landed like a ton of bricks, sending my thoughts spiraling. Sure, in the recesses of my mind, I knew it was a possibility—a logical outcome given the circumstances. At some point Colt would find someone else actually worthy of him and wouldn’t want to be tied to me. But I guess I’d naively been holding onto the idea in my subconscious that in a few years when Violet was older and we were more settled in our lives, that I could try reconciling with Colt. Begging him to forgive me. Hearing the words “divorce” spoken out loud made me feel like I’d been blindsided by a Mack truck while crossing the road.
“Oh and one last thing, Grayson. I hope that bastard gives you syphilis and your brain melts.”
As the line went dead, a profound sense of finality washed over me, like the closing of a chapter I’d never wanted to end. I cradled the phone in my hand, inexplicably knowing that it would be the last time I heard his voice, the last echo of a love that had been lost to misunderstanding and fear.
Every fiber of my being yearned to dial his number, to pour out my heart and dispel the lies I’d told that had torn us apart. But the weight of my own actions, the months of silent agony and unspoken truths, held me back.
For too long, I had harbored the hope that his anger would provide the catalyst for him to move on, to find solace in a future untainted by the ghosts of our past. If his hatred of me could pave the way for his healing, then perhaps it was a sacrifice worth making.
So, I resigned myself to the silence that stretched between us, knowing that some wounds were too deep to heal, some bridges too charred to rebuild. And as the minutes ticked by solemnly, I braced myself for the inevitable, knowing that the hardest part of letting go was yet to come.
PART II
22. “Without You”
Colt,
I need you to no how sorry I am. Your songs are breaking me and every day, I want nothing more than to hold you and tell you I didnt mean it. I’ve tried calling you so many times but you blocked my number. I get it. I do. If I were you, I’d hate me to. Put since I no youll never see this journal - I want to tell you I still love you. I never stopped and never will. I wish you could met Violet - she reminds me of you. I try to hold myself togehter for her, but sometimes I feel the darknes in my chest spreading and I cant get out of bed. I miss talking to you. So maybe if I right to you, you can still be in my life.
Please no, I wish you nothing but happyness Colt. You desevre the world
-Gray
Colton
6 Years Ago
