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How do you know when someone is really sorry?And more importantly, how do you know that they’re sorry for the right reasons and not just because they don’t want you to be mad at them anymore?
Or is that reason enough in some cases?Is it reason enough in this one?
I’ve never been so confused about how to move forward.It’s been three days since I last saw or spoke to Miles.I’m still mad, but mostly I’m hurt.And I’m worried the hurt is going to take a lot longer to get over than the anger will.
He apologized that night via text and even tried to call me, but I couldn’t talk to him.I couldn’t hear his voice.I thought giving myself more time would help, but now I’m second-guessing everything.
I want to believe he’s sorry.That we won’t find ourselves in this situation again.That he won’t keep something huge from me when it’s about me, or go around me thinking he knows what’s best for me.I’ve had enough time to think about it, and I know what he was thinking when he hired that PI, but that wasn’t his decision to make.And I’m not sure he understands that.So, when he texts me he’s sorry I struggle to know whether it’s because he’s sorry he hurt me, or is he sorry he went searching at all?Because there’s a big difference between the two, and it’s the latter I really need him to be sorry about.I used to be sure that I could trust him with anything, but now I’m questioning that.
Can anyone ever be sure?About anything?Is life really just a series of trust experiments?
How fucking depressing.
“Hit me,” I say forlornly, pushing my arm up to Rikki from my supine position on the floor.She leans over me with a skeptical frown.
“You sure about that?You’ve had like half the container already.You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow.”
“I kinda hate myself already.Hit me.”I shove my small shot glass toward her face.She grabs the red Reddi-wip can and sprays more whipped cream until the small glass is full.
“That’s the last one I’m letting you have.”
“You’re no fun,” I say right before dipping a finger into the glass and taking some of the white fluffy cream and putting it in my mouth.Ah, sweet sugary goodness.
I haven’t had an alcoholic drink since that night three years ago, so when I’m feeling reckless, I binge on sugary sweets.Tonight, I’m indulging in dulce de leche ice cream, whipped cream shots, and watermelon Sour Patch gummies.
It’s a weird combo, I know.
Just like alcohol, sugar seemingly solves a whole lot of problems while causing others—the temporary sugar rush will turn into a pounding headache tomorrow from the drop.But I don’t care.
Tonight I’ll take the rush and deal with the consequences later.
“Talk to me,” Rikki says as she lies down on the floor next to me.
“I miss him.”A traitorous tear slides down the side of my face, exposing how much I really miss him.
“So why don’t you talk to him?”
“Because I’m still hurt by what he did.Why would he think I’d want to know anything about the guy?And worse, why didn’t he talk to me about it first?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think I’m being unreasonable?”I ask her.
She cants her head back and forth before responding.“You feel what you feel.Who am I to tell you what’s right or wrong about how you feel?”
“I sense a but coming.”
She smiles.“But I think you need to hear him out.Instead of asking me those questions and not getting any real answers, I think you should ask him.”
I let out a heavy sigh—so heavy I’m certain the amount of breath that leaves my lungs could power a hundred sailboats across the sea.“You’re right.I know you’re right.”
Rubbing my hand over my head, I try to figure out next steps.“Gah, why are guys such dumbasses sometimes?”
“They can’t help themselves.It must stem from the primitive caveman days.”
We stare at my white ceiling in silence for several minutes while some nineties romcom plays on the TV in the background.
