“I know I’m not. Logically, I know.” He looked at me, and his eyes were bright, hard, and scared underneath. The scared was worse than anything else, worse than anger, worse than disappointment. “But logic isn’t running the show right now. Give me tonight. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He went back inside, said goodbye to his coworkers, because Ellis didn’t leave without saying goodbye even when he was falling apart, and then he walked to the subway without me. I watched him disappear down the stairs at the Fourth Avenue station, his shoulders slightly hunched, his pace deliberately steady, like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will.
I stood on the sidewalk with my hands at my sides, and the ghost of who I used to be standing exactly where Nathan had been, staring at me with the same expression.
“Good luck”, Nathan had said to Ellis.
I went back inside. Ordered another drink. Didn’t taste it.
Calliope would have told me to chase him. Sierra would have told me to give him space. Raven would have looked at me until I figured it out myself. But none of them were here, and I was alone in a bar in Park Slope surrounded by people who were having a great time at Derek’s birthday, and the man I loved was on the train going back to his apartment where he’d water his plants and sit with the knowledge that the person he’d chosen used to be careless with people who didn’t deserve it.
I couldn’t argue with anything Nathan had said. Couldn’t argue with anything Ellis had said either. My past was exactly what it was. A long line of people I’d kept at arm’s length because closeness was dangerous anddistance was safe, and I’d mistaken the absence of pain for the presence of freedom.
And now the one person I’d let in was on a subway going home without me, wondering whether my capacity for cruelty was a phase or a personality trait.
I finished the drink. Left cash on the bar. Walked home in the cold.
My apartment was dark and empty. No Ellis on the couch. No cedar candle.
I sat on my bed and stared at my phone and didn’t text him, because he’d asked for tonight and I owed him at least that.
But I didn’t sleep either.
Chapter nineteen
Igave him space. Almost killed me, but I did it.
Saturday morning I woke up to nothing. No texts. No missed calls. No Ellis. I made coffee and drank it standing at the kitchen counter because sitting down felt too much like waiting, and I couldn’t handle waiting. I checked my phone eleven times before noon. I know because I counted, and I was absolutely obsessing.
At one o’clock, I texted.
Jett:I think I messed everything up.
She replied immediately.
Sierra:What happened?
Jett:Someone from before showed up. In front of Ellis. It was bad.
Sierra:How bad?
Jett:He went home alone.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Sierra:Give him today. Show up tomorrow. Bring food.
That was the plan then. Food. The universal language of “I know I screwed up and I don’t have the words yet, but I’m here.”
Sunday afternoon I stood outside Ellis’ door with two bags from the Thai place on Graham, the one my tía Rosa swore had roaches, and tried to remember how to breathe. I’d rehearsed a speech on the subway. Something about growth, accountability, and how the person Nathan described wasn’t who I was anymore. It had sounded good between stations. Standing in his hallway, it sounded like a TED talk, and Ellis would see right through it.
I knocked.
Footsteps. A pause. The door opened.
He looked tired. Not the attractive kind of tired that people in movies have. Actually tired. The kind where your skin goes pale and your eyes sit deeper and the bones of your face show more than usual. He was wearing a T-shirt I’d left at his place weeks ago, which either meant he missed me or he’d run out of clean laundry. Possibly both.
