“What’s your motive?”
“What are you talking about?”
“?‘People’s actions always have a motive, whether conscious or subconscious.’ That’s what you said the night of Ellie’s wedding. Don’t you remember? I know I could never forget. So what the fuck are you playing at? Why claim you love me now, after I’ve found out the truth? What’s the play?”
“Those were the words of a dumb, jaded kid, Joey.”
Fifty-eight years old.
I reallydon’tknow the man in front of me, I realize. He knows me—he was there right up until my bitter end. But I have no idea what became of him. Can’t possibly know anything except what he tells me. He’s holding all the cards, and I’m supposed to just, what,trust him?
Pass.
“Were they? Or were they a warning that no matter what you do, you’re always working in your own self-interest?”
“Everyone’s always working in their own self-interest,” Alex snaps. “There’s nothing spectacularly unique about me doing it.”
“There he is. That’s the Alex I know. I’ve been wondering what happened to him.”
“Nothing happened to me. I’ve been right here. I had my secrets—but you were keeping secrets too. I’m here. I’ve always been here, and I’ve always been me. I know I’m not perfect—I’ll never be perfect, but I want to try. And I am telling you that I love you. That I have been in love with you for a very long time.”
Whatever he reads in my expression—disdain, disbelief, maybe even disgust, who can say—causes his face to fall. He looks heartbroken, but I’m not sure I trust it. He’s already proven he’s a brilliant actor.
“You weren’t in love with me.” I shake my head. “You aren’t capable of it. The only thing you ever loved was yourself.”
“You knownothingabout how I felt.”
“No, but I know how you treated me. I know how youaretreating me right now. And that’s not how people treat people they love.”
“So that’s it, then? You find out the truth and write me off at a glance? It’s good to know what the past few months meant to you.”
“They meant the world, when I thought they were real. But nothing with you is real.”
He takes a step forward, reaches out to grab my arm. I step back, determined not to let that happen. His hand stays out, reaching toward me in an aborted gesture.
“This is me being real, Joey. I am in love with you. I have been in love with you for decades. And considering nothing that has happened so far has changed that—none of the insults you hurled at me, none of the years you spent avoiding me, not yourdeath”—his voice cracks on the word—“and not the decades that came after, considering thatnoneof that did a single thing to sway my feelings for you, I imagine I will continue to love you until the day I die. Again.”
But I don’t believe him. So, without another word, I storm off.
He doesn’t follow.
28
It’s mostly muscle memory that brings me back to my dorm room. Strange, considering my muscles haven’t brought me here in a while. But now, in the wake of Alex’s revelation, I no longer feel the anxiety that plagued me anytime I considered coming back to my room. I need to process the pain I’m feeling. Even though I might not be Madison’s best friend, she’ll always be mine, and nothing eases heartache like wallowing with your best friend.
Besides, I have nowhere else to go.
She sits cross-legged on her bed, dressed in pajamas, her hair wrapped in a bonnet, no makeup on, and a magazine open in front of her. I freeze in the doorway, wondering which of us will be the first to break the silence.
“You look like shit,” she remarks dryly.
“Believe it or not, I feel even worse.”
“Might want to look in the mirror before you make that call, ’cause I kind of doubt it.”
Nothing she’s said is kind—the complete opposite—but I feel like she’s doing me a kindness by acting so normal right now when she could be giving me the cold shoulder for responding to our conflict by avoiding her for weeks.
I shut the door behind me and walk over to the mirror above our sink, curious what I’ll find. I’m unsurprised to see that she’s right—I looklike shit. Makeup running, eyes and nose red and swollen. I stare at myself, trying to reconcile the girl I see in the mirror with the woman I am inside. Months in, I’m still not used to the face reflected back at me. I wonder if I ever will be.
