Page 48 of Rich and Rotten

She cleared her throat, still not done expressing how she felt. “Sav could dish out judgment to everybody else like she was the second coming, but when it came to listening? To growing with you and having the life you told her you wanted, she could never choose you, babe. Never.”

Her voice cracked slightly. It wasn’t because she was upset with me, but because she hated to see me hurt. See me clinging to a dead branch that offered me nothing. The leaves were gone, and the branch was falling apart right in my hands, but I kept trying to water it, hoping to revive what was already dead. If I were honest with myself, there was nothing left to do but put that branch down and move on with my life.

“I hear you, Tati.”

“You keep loving her despite receiving nothing but scraps in return, Yaya. She never poured into you the way you have poured into her, loved her, and chose her.”

The heavy silence on the line filled me with emotion. I quickly wiped away the tears that were slowly rolling down my cheeks. What could I say? She was right.

Tatiana had sat back and allowed me to live my life while always showing up when I needed her. Now, she was speaking the truth, letting me know this wasn’t healthy, and I couldn’t keep going on like this with Sav.

I finally cleared my throat, forcing out the words despite how heavy they felt.

“She’s just… Tati, she’s been through a lot. It’s not easy for her to trust people or change.”

My voice wasn’t even convincing to myself, so I knew Tatiana could see right through what I had said to her. The silence on the other end of the line confirmed what I already knew.

She released a sigh, not one that was rude; she was just tired. Tired of me having the strength to defend someone who wouldn’t defend me.

“You make excuses for her. Cover for her, love her, fight for her. Name a time when she has done those things for you?”

I tried to respond, even defend myself, but I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t form, and my mouth became dry as cotton while trying to find the right words.

Her voice softened. “Do you ever think that maybe you’re trying to heal a version of her that never existed in the first place?

“Can we talk tomorrow?” I said, attempting to abruptly end the call.

By this point, the tears were streaming down my face because I had gotten exactly what I called her for––a dose of reality that I needed. A reminder that I had to stop living in some fantasy world that didn’t exist.

“I love you, Yaya. Get some sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow, or even better, we can get together for a girls’ night round table with lots of wine.”

I laughed through the tears while wiping them away. “This conversation, coupled with wine, sounds like the best idea.”

“Get some sleep.”

“You, too.”

“Eh, just get enough for both of us,” she said before hanging up.

Deep down, I always knew the truth. I wasn’t in love with the woman Sav was; I loved the woman I hoped to shape her into. She was my passion project, the acknowledgment I sought to prove she could change. I had written this love story of what our relationship could be with a version of her that never existed and never could.

After sitting on the balcony for a few, I wiped my eyes one last time and went inside, closing the door behind me. I rummaged through my purse for my favorite makeup wipes and used them to clean my face of the tears. Climbing into bed, I checked my phone for any notifications from my sister before turning on the TV, but I wasn’t really paying attention to what was on the screen.

The bathroom door cracked open, steam following behind Jonah like he had sparked up in there. He had his towel wrapped around his waist, another in his hand, as he draped it around his neck. His skin shimmered, his tattoos glistening, and his beard dripped with beads of water. I quickly tried to act normal while still staring at an infomercial that I hadn’t even noticed I had been watching.

Normal.

What did that even mean? I was trying to act normal, like I hadn’t just been on the phone getting some real-life advice that I still wasn’t sure I was in the place to receive. Jonah wasn’t dumb, and from the way he paused in front of the TV and stared directly at me, I could tell he knew I had been crying.

He pulled the towel from around his neck and dried his beard, never breaking our eye contact. One stupid tear fell down my face, and that was when the concerned entered his eyes.

He cared.

“What’s wrong, Yummy?” he asked, his voice low.

It wasn’t his typical tone. There wasn’t a hint of humor or teasing behind his question. His tone was softer, concerned, desperate to know what the problem was so he could fix it. I shook my head quickly, praying that if I moved quick enough, that one tear wouldn’t have any company.

“Nothing. Stupid show has me crying,” I lied and grabbed my phone so it could distract me.