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Nineteen
I wanted to sleep and let the world pass me by.
I wanted to call Oz or Graham and ask them to come get me. To keep me for the night.
I wanted to send them each a text saying things were over, so the temptation would be gone.
But if I did that now, at least one of them would show up on my doorstep. I couldn’t have that while I was still here.
Instead, I spent the night staring blankly at anime I knew would make me cry. I could blame the ache in my chest on the cartoons instead of my me.
While I watched, a battle raged in my head, half of me arguing I was being stupid and the other half being logical and pointing out how Oz’s and Graham’s reputations had crumbled, and were continuing to deteriorate, because I was there.
As the sun came up, my eyes were raw and dry.
The cards would give me answers. They always helped me think my way through problems.
I started with my favorite deck, shuffling three times, cutting the cards, and muttering what do I do?
I pulled a card off the top and scowled at the reversed Two of Cups. I didn’t need the freaking cards to tell me I’d just walked away from love, and it hurt like hell. I wanted to know what to do next.
This was too complex an issue to rely on a single answer.
I laid out a spread instead. When the images taunted me with more suggestions I didn’t like, I resisted the urge to fling the deck across the room, and shoved all the cards back together instead.
Fine. If that deck wouldn’t behave, I’d try a different one.
But the next several results weren’t any better. Every fucking card mocked me with the same things the people had said yesterday on the podcast. I was being naive. Immature. I didn’t know what was right for myself.
I needed Violet’s help for the next step in my plan, but if I called her this morning, she’d drop everything to get over here right away. I wasn’t going to disrupt another life over this.
Instead, I sent cancellation messages to the two podcasts I was supposed to be on today, with a brief I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well.
I hopped on a bus downtown, having long ago memorized the schedule and route that took me to the library. I loved the downtown branch, with its five stories of glass and steel.
Inside was sunshine and warmth and a vast stretch of knowledge. It was also quiet, since this was a mid-week morning.
I made my way to their ever growing manga section, grabbed something high action that I’d been wanting to start, and settled into a bench seat by the windows.
I couldn’t focus enough to read. Even my eyes hurt. How did this perfect scenario fall apart so quickly?
Because it had never been perfect. I’d ignored the consequences to live a fantasy.
As Violet’s shift was coming to an end, I called her. “I’m so sorry. I need a favor.” I tried to keep my voice clear, but my raw throat cracked on the words.
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to ask this, but I was out of time and options. “I’m at the library. This is the weekend my lease is up. Can I stay in your guest bedroom for a little while? I’m looking for a place, I promise. I’ll be out as soon as I can be.”
“You can stay as long as you need. You know that. What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t tell her now. I’d break down crying if I did, and then I’d also have to explain to anyone who saw me, and deal with their sympathy, and that would bounce back on me and make me feel even worse. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
A short while later, we were in Ramsey’s SUV—Violet managed to get a hold of it quickly—and headed back to my soon-to-be-former apartment.
“What happened?” Violet asked.
