We sat there in silence for a moment, just staring at each other. I wanted to ask him a million questions, some heavy, some light, but it felt good to just sit there with him, too. It felt easier than bringing up the heavy questions sitting on my chest.
“You never were able to answer my question yesterday. What are you doing back in Chicago? Last I heard, you were still in North Carolina.”
“Yeah. I moved back to Chicago after I graduated. My father left me our family home in his will. I was going to sell it, but...”
I arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been back that long?”
“Yeah... I have been.”
He’d been in my state, in my city, for years, and I hadn’t seen him until yesterday. With haste, I placed my hands on the side of my chair and stood. “Sorry, I, uh, I should probably get this place settled for the night.” I turned away from him, unable to look him in the eyes, because my heart was breaking all over again from being near him.
“Karla...” He stood from his chair and placed a hand on my arm. I flinched from his touch and turned to look at him.
“Don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Just please don’t, Ash.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“You owe me nothing.”
“That’s not true. The way I ignored you—”
“It doesn’t matter. We were young and it didn’t matter.”
“It did matter,” he swore.
“No,” I countered, shaking my head. “It didn’t. We didn’t mean anything really to each other. We were just two kids who trauma bonded and—”
“You were my best friend,” he cut in, the honesty piercing my heart. I hated that he said those words, because he was my best friend, too. My only friend.
“Then why did you ghost me?!” I snapped, my emotions building up more and more, choking me as I shouted the words. The more seconds that passed with him around me, the more upset and hurt I grew from the memories of how he’d left me all those years ago. I’d tried to reach out repeatedly. I’d sobbed to my therapist, to my family, about losing him, my only friend. I felt abandoned and alone.
It took me ages to get over the betrayal. I went as far as not letting other people into my life, because I couldn’t handle the idea of them up and leaving me. I made peace with Ash’s departure, though. I made peace with it over the years. I settled into my quiet life with my bookstore, realizing that the only people I could truly trust were my family, my book club friends, and the fictional characters in my storybooks.
I was OK.
I created a life that felt safe to me.
And then he had enough nerve to show up again and make all those old feelings come back to the surface.
Ash’s eyes locked with mine, and I hated that I was growing upset with him, because I saw the hurt in his stare. I could tell that the last few years hadn’t been kind to him or his soul.I could see the hurt leaking out of those light-brown irises. Still...
That didn’t mean that my own hurt was invalid.
He left me, moved back to my city, and still didn’t come to find me. That fact hurt the most. I was here, he was here, and still, he didn’t want to find me. If it wasn’t for Grandma Claire, he would’ve never set foot near me again.
I wished that would’ve been the outcome, because having him show up again after all these years was causing old feelings to stir inside of me.
“Look, Ash, I appreciate you helping my grandmother. It truly meant the world to me. I just... I think it’s best we leave the past in the past,” I said.
Ash’s head lowered for a split second before he looked back at me. “Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here... It’s just that... after all these years of seeing you... you just... it felt like...” his words faded off, but I knew what he was thinking.
Home.
It felt like home.
I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a forced smile. “Have a good night, Ash.”
He cringed at the coldness of my words, but I couldn’t listen to my heart in that moment; I had to listen to my brain. My heart wanted to welcome him back in. My heart wanted to forgive him, because it knew he’d struggled after losing his father. My heart understood that hurt people hurt other people. But my brain knew that that wasn’t enough of a reason.
