It had been easier when there was hope that things would change. It had hurt, but I had always imagined there was a beckoning light at the end of the tunnel.
But now... now there was nothing. Giving up all hope and letting go of Parker was the end. It was the end of every childish dream I’d ever had about the two of us. It was the end of my one-true-love fantasy. It was the end of my lifelong quest to end up with my soulmate. Parker and I were never going to be. We werenever going to get married and sing songs to our children. He was never going to wake me up in the morning gazing adoringly in my eyes and whispering he loved me. We were never going to grow old together and tell each other stories. We were never going to anything. There was never going to be a “we.” That killed me. Knowing that made me die a million deaths, but inside I could also feel a little flower blooming. A flower that was ready to bloom under another sun. A flower that was ready for some happiness and no more pain. A flower that was ready for the dawn of a new day.
“Why won’tyou talk to me, Lara?” Parker stood on my doorstep, and I felt like I wanted to pass out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re not answering my calls. My emails. I sent you some messages on Facebook. I texted you.” His eyes searched mine. “You haven’t responded to anything.”
“What do you care?” I said bitterly. “It’s not like you always respond. I just didn’t get around to it yet.”
“You always respond,” he said, his face unsure and red. “You don’t ignore me.”
“What do you want, Parker?” I stood at the door, just waiting for him to leave. I didn’t want to talk to him. Just seeing him was breaking my heart. I didn’t want to deal with this.
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” I took a deep breath. “I just don’t have much time right now.”
“I thought we were friends,” he said softly.
“Yeah, we are.” I nodded.
“Once, you called me your best friend,” he said with a small smile. “Remember?”
“We all say things we don’t mean.” I shrugged.
“You’re one of my best friends,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. What did it even matter anymore? What did anything matter? I felt too numb inside. Too heartbroken. Too empty.I hate youwas all I could think as I stared at him. I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate you for making me have so much self-doubt. I hate you for me not being able to let go. I hate you for not letting go of me when you knew you didn’t love me. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
“So how have you been?” he asked me, his face somber as we stood there in awkward silence.
“Good, you?” I gave him a half-hearted smile, not wanting him to know how uncomfortable I felt inside. Not wanting him to know he had made me lose a part of myself and that I’d been awful while trying to pretend, even to myself, that I was doing well.
“Not great,” he said, his face looking sad. “But better now that I’m getting to see you.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “So what did you want to talk about?”
“Everything.” He shrugged. “I just want to feel better about this situation.”
“I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself, Parker. I’m sorry, but I’ve done that too much already. The only times you’ve really come to me haven’t been about me. They’ve been because you were feeling down-and-out, and you needed me to make you feel better about yourself.”
“That’s not true.” He looked at me with a hurt expression. “I care a lot about you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know that. You care oh so much about me.” I rolled my eyes. “I get it, Parker. Look, I know we’re friends, but I also know that I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” His voice rose. “Do we have to get into an argument already? I really hoped we could just talk everything out.”
“Sure, let’s talk it out,” I said with a sigh. What really was there left to talk about?
“What should we talk about?” he asked, looking at me with an alert expression that made me want to scream and shout.
“Parker, you called me. You wanted to meet up with me, so if you want to talk, you need to start the conversation.” I was not going to make this easy for him. I was over it. Really and truly over it.
“I’m trying to. Can you stop being so difficult, please?”
“I’m not being difficult.” I groaned, not sure if I was going to be able to do this with him.
