I can’t even answer right away as I stare at the ground, at the seeds scattered across the dirt.
“Fuck,” I say finally, my voice breaking a little. “I need you more than my next breath.”
There’s another pause, and I hear her take a trembling breath. “What are you doing right now?”
I glance around the empty lot, sunlight beginning to break through the clouds. “Plantin’ sunflowers.”
She lets out a soft laugh, small but real. “For me?”
“Yeah, baby,” I say quietly. “For you. Something to look forward to when you come back home.”
The line goes silent again, and I hear her sniffling. “I don’t deserve someone like you.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “You deserve someone who cares, I do.”
She sniffles again, voice trembling. “You always say things like that. And every time, it makes it harder to hang up.”
“Then don’t,” I whisper.
She sighs softly. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
My stomach knots. “You mean?—”
She cuts me off. “I just mean pretendingeverything’s okay.”
The sound of her scared voice nearly breaks me.
“Then don’t pretend,” I whisper. “Not with me.”
“Okay.”
We stay like that for a while, just breathing, not talking, not hanging up, because if we stay still long enough, the world won’t pull us apart again.
layla
. . .
“What the actual fuck, Layla!” he yells, slamming our bedroom door shut behind us so hard the framed photo on the dresser jumps and clatters face down. “That fucking freak threatened me!”
My suitcase is already open on the bed.
I started packing at dawn, before he woke up, before I even knew I’d have the courage to finish. My hands tremble as I reach for a folded cardigan I haven’t worn in months.
“I didn’t know he did that,” I say. The words come out small, barely audible over the pounding in my ears. “I didn’t ask him to.”
“Didn’t ask him to?” He laughs, walking towards me. “You think I’m blind? You think I didn’t see the way you looked at him across the bar, like he’s your fucking knight and I’m the monster?
You are a monster.
I keep moving, packing methodically.
My favorite jeans, my pastel yellow dress, the one my sweet Reed loves, anything and everything to get me the fuck out of here.
“I’m leaving you, Brian!” I yell, squeezing my jeans as I pack. “I can’t do this anymore!”
The room goes eerily still, as if all the oxygen has vanished, and suddenly I can’t fucking breathe.
He grabs the bedside lamp and hurls it; its ceramic base shatters against the wall, a shower of jagged white shards.
