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Two hours later I was in Lucas’s room, and we had barely said a word to each other. I was sitting on a chair next to his desk, and he was on his bed. His back was pressed against the headboard. His hair was still wet from the shower he took.
It was a long shower. He wanted to delay the conversation.
“Can I ask you something?” I was looking at my hands.
“I thoughtyouwere going to do the talking.”
I shot him a look, and the scowl was still on his face. I swallowed hard.
“Yes. But I don’t know how that conversation is going to turn out, and my curiosity is killing me.”
He closed his eyes for a moment as if he was trying to compose himself and not yell at me.
“Shoot.”
“Did you peal it off?”
We both knew what I was talking about.
“Is there another option?” he wondered, and I shrugged.
“My mother?”
“No. I did it. When I finally understood that this…,” he pointed between him and me, “…is never happening.”
That last sentence felt like a thousand knives pierced my skin all over my body.
“You could have just leave it there,” I realized I was sounding offended and I had absolutely no right to sound like that, but still…
“I knew you would eventually come back, and I couldn’t stand the thought that it would still be there. Like a fuckingI Love Youbanner. I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
That was it. We were over. I had forgotten how bad it hurt when he rejected me.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly. “Of course. I understand.”
“I doubt you do,” his voice sounded colder than in the beginning of our conversation. “You barely understand yourself.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Why are you helping my mother?” I changed the subject, and he snorted.
“Are you just going to ask me questions? If I knew you were going to interrogateme, I wouldn’t agree to this conversation.”
“Why? What’s wrong with asking questions?” I asked.
“Nothing. If you ask them at the right time. I think four months is a little bit too late.”
“I’m sorry,” I lifted my hands in the air with annoyance. “You have to admit it’s weird,” I tried to read his expression, but I couldn’t. It looked like he deliberately was trying to hide himself from me.
“What’s so weird about it? You left. I needed to vent. I couldn’t talk to my mother, because I was pissed at her for helping you. So I just ended up at your house one day.”
I opened my mouth to ask him more questions about him and Sylvia, but he was obviously done answering because he cut me off.
“No more questions, Clem. It’s your turn to talk.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked, and I was feeling hopeful. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fix everything with one conversation, but he was talking to me. It was a beginning. He could have just kicked me out.
“Nothing really,” he answered to my question. “I just wanted to give you the opportunity to say what you have to say. You know? Closure and shit.”
