“But you hate what you do!” I said loudly. “You say it at least five times a day, every single day, and I don’t want to be like you. Stuck in a job that is slowly killing me.”
“Wait, I thought we were talking aboutyourjob, not mine?” he asked angrily.
“Maybe we should talk about your job?” I almost shouted that last part. In the time that we’d been together, it had become abundantly clear to me just how bad his work was for him. How stressed and angry it made him.
He shook his head furiously. “This isn’t fair on Emmy,” he finally said. “You’ve been here for her, and now you’re going. I don’t think she can handle more women that she cares about disappearing.”
“Disappearing?”
There was a lull in the conversation, a pause that was so loud and painful that it screamed at us.
“Just go! Just go to Joburg and I guess we’ll see you in a few months, or not. Whatever.”
“I . . . I . . .” I stuttered again. I hadn’t meant it to go like this. Not at all.
“Anyway, I guess you won’t be needing this after all.” He walked up to me and put a small box in my hand. I opened it slowly.
“What are they?”
“Keys. To the house. I was going to ask you to move in, but I guess that was . . .” He turned and looked at me again. “I think you should go now. Before Emmy comes home. I don’t want her seeing this. I don’t want her to have to say another painful goodbye.”
“Wait, I . . .” I said in panic.
“Wait, what? Are you going, or aren’t you going? Are you leaving us, or aren’t you leaving us?”
“My things,” I said. “My plants, the pigeon, my clothes, my—”
“Emmy is going to be home in ten minutes,” he said, getting angry now. “I want you gone. Go and pack a bag and take a few things. I’ll make sure you get the rest.”
“I am not leaving without my mother’s plants!” I stepped forward angrily and almost shouted.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head.
“Wow, what?” I asked.
“Seems like some plants are more important than us.”
“That is so fucking unfair,” I said as the tears started.
“No, what’s unfair is you leaving us—without any warning, I should add. That’s fucking unfair, Poppy.” He was fuming now and I started to cry.
“Jesus Christ! Please just get out before Emmy finds you here crying like this!” He spat the words at me so angrily, I felt my fucking heart break.
And so, I did. I turned and ran out the door.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-NINE
Ryan
“Where’s Poppy?” Emmy asked when she walked in.
She had called shortly after his fight with Poppy, to ask if she could spend the weekend at her new friend’s house. He’d agreed. He didn’t want Emmy seeing him like this anyway. But he hadn’t really cooled down that much, and it had already been two days since the fight.
He cleared his throat anxiously. “She’s . . . um, she’s not here anymore.”
“Oh,” she said casually. “Where did she go?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
