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Opening the front door, she is dressed just like me, in Trey’s tee with his briefs on and flip-flops. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy topknot, and her little legs and arms are covered in goose bumps.
“Shay, it’s like forty degrees out there. Get inside, crazy.” I tug her arm and pull her in.
“I know. I realize that now, but I was in a hurry. I wanted to be with you tonight.” She shivers as we move to the sitting room just to the left of the entryway. Plopping down on the couch, she reaches for all of my throw blankets and covers herself in them.
“Does Trey know you’ve had a lapse of judgment?”
“Yes, I called him and told him that I will be here with you tonight. So start talking, lady. We have all night.” She winks then shivers, causing me to chuc
kle. God, I love her.
I tell her, for hours, how Kingston and I have come to a burning bridge. I admit to her how therapy went and how it made me both frightened but relieved. Once my blabbering stops and we have both cried, she finally gets a word in.
“So are you guys a couple? Did you call it off? Did he say anything after therapy?”
I shake my head, my hands fiddling with the white fluffy throw blanket. “No, he didn’t. And as far as the couple thing goes, I’m sure we’re over. Even though he said therapy would make him stay, I don’t think it helped. He is only staying for Prince for the time being.”
“Do you think he is waiting for you to get better before you get into the relationship again? I mean, stay hopeful, because maybe this is just a break until he’s sure.” She reaches for my busy hands and stops them, covering them with hers. “You’re Lana and Kingston. You can’t be over.”
That’s a mouthful, a naïve dream I once idolized as a sure thing. But I abused that dream, sucked it dry of its power.
“That’s what I used to think, but I messed up. Hell, I bet he’s out looking for something to forget me.”
“My brother would never do that to you. You’re his lobster.” She smiles and I shake my head.
“Okay, Phoebe Buffay.” I laugh alongside her. When it dies down, I slowly look back up at her.
“I want him to forgive me and know that I’ll do whatever I can to get better. What do I do, Shayla?”
“You need to make this right. You—”
“I can’t. He’ll think they’re empty promises,” I cut her off.
“I wasn’t gonna say that. You need to show him in your actions. Go to therapy. Communicate what fears you have—the abuse, the depression, all of it. I know you want to do this, Lana. I see it. But, you have to be committed this time, not just for him, not just for Prince, but for you too. This is your life and your happiness as well, so remember that.”
I know I don’t only risk the happiness of the ones I love, but my salvation is at risk here too. I need to get better. I don’t like living in this eternal darkness as much as the next person, but I didn’t know how to get out of it. But still, I’m ready to not only save my greatest love and family, but I’m ready to save myself, from myself.
“I want to, so badly.”
“Then get your lady balls together and do it, Lana James.”
I smirk, thinking back to a few years ago when we had the reverse conversation. Sometimes a girl just needs her best friend through every ultimate fall.
The bar is buzzing with tons of people, the loud music booming against my chest, matching the rhythm of my anxious heart. I left Lana without so much as a glance, iced her out again after therapy, because I’m too stubborn, too weak, too damaged to let her back in.
We’re over. I ended it with her last night. Whether she knows that or not, I’m not sure. But I had to end it in order to survive it. Sure, Lana took a step today and went to therapy, but that could all be a temporary fix for the real issue. How do I know she won’t draw me back in and then stop going? I have to see it from her. I need to see her put in the effort herself—not just me, but for herself and our son. I can walk away from all this, that isn’t the problem. But Lana can’t walk away from herself, and I don’t want our son to have to make that choice.
Losing Lana and walking away may be something I will regret for the rest of my life, or it could ultimately save us. The risk of the gamble is a bet I have to make in order to live through this. I know without a doubt I’m crushing her under my thumb, breaking her heart in half, but nothing is fair in love and war. Worst part of all, though, is I admitted today that the road to wreckage we are on is slowly starting to make me fall out of love with her. How could that fucking happen? How could I stop loving her?
That is the question that has my heart rate skipping a few beats and my back and shoulders tight with tension as we sit in this downtown, swanky nightclub. The lights are low, the walls a gray color with red booths lining the wall and a wide-open dance floor between the seating area and the bar. It’s a little more upscale than what Trey and I usually do. We tend to like a large TV playing football and a beer on tap at the end of a bar. But I told him I wanted something loud and distracting to keep me doing anything but thinking of Lana.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I look down, seeing a Facebook messenger notification. I see Hilary’s name and I open it, knowing it’s probably in response to me kindly telling her I’m not interested. Trey disappeared into the crowd of sweaty club-goers to get us a drink, braving the storm of this place, so I occupy myself.
Hilary: I’m not surprised you’re with Lana. I always knew you wanted her. Still doesn’t change the fact that I miss you. I can always be the side option. Something to cleanse your palette when you get bored. ;D
I read the message over again, looking for any reason to not respond, and I don’t find one. I want attention; I fucking need it. I don’t plan to flirt, but I don’t shut her down bluntly like I normally would if I were with Lana.
Me: You haven’t changed a bit, I see. Still bold as ever. And I ain’t bored. Lana still gets me.
