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“I wasn’t with Sylvia and the girls Saturday; I spent most of the day at the cemetery,” Elizabeth says without looking at me. “It’s what I’ve always done.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know it then, and I was feeling so many different things I didn’t know what to do with, so I lied.”
“And proceeded to ignore me.”
“I was going to call you today,” she says quietly. “It’s been a hard few days for me, and I was trying to sort things out in my head. That’s it.”
Her hands are trembling a little and she’s trying to keep her breathing calm. I can guess the answer before I even ask, “Did you get it all sorted?”
Elizabeth laughs, but there’s no humor to be found in it. “Not even a little.”
“So, what were you going to say when you called?”
She takes a deep breath and faces me. All of the groceries are put away now. “I was going to tell you that I’m an idiot. I don’t know what I’m doing. I think less when you’re around, so if you could quit your job and be around me twenty-four/seven that would be great. My backup plan is to try not to screw things up, even though that’s all I seem to be doing.”
“Do you want to be with me?” I ask.
Her eyes widen at my question, though I’m not sure why. She just said she didn’t want to screw up, so I’m assuming the answer is yes, but I want to hear her say it. It’s Wednesday and before today, the last I heard from Elizabeth was Saturday when she left my house. Her mouth opens and closes.
“Yes or no, Elizabeth. Either you do or you don’t. Either you want to work through it or you don’t. Which is it?”
“I have problems. I—”
“I know, Elizabeth,” I interrupt, crossing the room. My hands slide down her arms until hers are clasped in mine. “Answer my question. Do you want to be with me?”
“I’m going to screw up.”
Damn it. I sigh, pull her arms around my waist, and let her rest her cheek against my chest. “Why can’t you just answer my fucking question?” My question started out so well, but my annoyance got the better of me at the end. If she’d just say yes, then who cares if she screws up? Hell, I’m going to screw up. The point would be that we’d have an end game to look forward to and work toward. If she doesn’t say yes, then what’s the fucking point of us?
I take a step away from her, ignoring how her arms seem to hang limply by her sides. I don’t do flings. I don’t do casual. I don’t do semi-relationships. I do full-blown, I’m yours, you’re mine, we’re dating, holding hands, kissing in public, claiming in front of everyone that I have a girlfriend, and if I like her enough, I start thinking of a future. Hell, I don’t have a girlfriend unless I can see some idea of a possible future there, even if we never make it to that destination.
“Not in the future, right?”
“I don’t know, Marc,” she whispers with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Okay.” I nod to myself, wondering what to do with this new piece of information. “I should go. I’m supposed to have dinner with Noah and Meredith, and I’m already late. We’ll talk later.” I turn and leave without another word. I go home, of course, where I finally text Meredith.
Me: I’m sorry for not coming. Blame Noah. Just so you know, if you wanted to sneak over here and see me, flash me, cheer me up, whatever, I’d be up for that.
There are not a lot of times or situations where I admit defeat these days. It’s always been my motto that you keep your head up, keep fighting, and you’ll eventually make it through. But Elizabeth confuses the hell out of me. I don’t know what to do. At first, it was easy. I wanted her enough, I didn’t care about anything but getting to know her. Now, I’ve gotten to know her, I care about her, and she should be my girlfriend. I should be her boyfriend.
What the fuck do I do with the fact that she just wants me to keep her company for the moment? The idea of that freaks me out. I may be the only guy on earth who frowns at the idea of a fling, rebound, or casual relationship.
There’s a knock at my door. Who could that be? Not many people know where I live. Maybe I should not answer even though I’m obviously home.
“Marc, don’t you want me to flash you?”
I jump up at the sound of Meredith’s voice and rush over to open the door. “What are you doing here?” I ask. Then, “How do you know where I live?”
“Lizzy gave me the address. I’m here because I talked to Noah and heard from Lizzy. Between that and your text, it sounded like you needed me. Here I am.”
We sit on opposite sides of the couch. She sits with her legs crossed and her body angled toward me.
