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It was. I’m not sure if that says more about who I am or more about who I think Benji is. I guess it doesn’t matter. What we had was destined to come to an end. Why drag it out? Eventually he will call a woman and arrange a date, and it’s going to hurt this badly or worse.
We shouldn’t have slept together Saturday night. But I’m weak. My rain-soaked tirade proved how weak. He needs to move on. I need to let him. I need to move on too, taking the amazing memories with me. If we call a truce, maybe we can salvage the relationship we had before we had sex.
“I’m sorry,” I say, willing to take the first hit. “Truly. Both for Trish and for accusing you of something you aren’t guilty of.”
“It’s okay. For the record, I don’t want her back. If you recall our conversation the night of the engagement party, it involved me asking you if you’d like to be the one who shares my bed.”
“I recall.” Vividly. It was everything I thought I wanted to hear. No end to Benji-and-Cris sex? Best news ever! Part of me still wants to yell Cowabunga! and leap into the unknown with him.
Stupid.
I’ve never had the privilege of being irresponsible. I’ve been raising kids for as long as I can remember. Similarly, Benji is my responsibility. My professional one and, as his life coach, my personal one too. Sleeping with him when we know it won’t last is the epitome of irresponsibility.
“So. Are you going back to the car?” he asks carefully, his expression grave. I sense he’s asking more than if I’m going back to the car. He’s asking me if I’m turning my back on him too. Or if I’ll continue on the path, weather the storm, and come back to him.
For now, anyway.
His wet T-shirt is molded to his chest. His running shorts are glued to his thighs. Raindrops trickle down his legs. I know what I want, but I also know what he needs. Even if he doesn’t. He might not dive into a casual sexual relationship right away, but he’s more than willing to have one with me.
I’m not a risk. I’m safe. And risk-averse Benji, who wouldn’t dare dream of forever for fear of losing more than he already has, knows he can sleep with me and I’ll still be his friend and coworker in the morning. Ironically, in his quest to teach me how I should be treated, the way he’s treating me isn’t good enough.
I can’t go forward with him. There is no forward. I can stay and stagnate, or move on without him. I have to make the right choice for me, and because I know him well, I know what choice to make.
“It’s time for me to go back to the car,” I tell him, my heart breaking. The light drizzle of rain masks my tears. “I shouldn’t have accused you of making me come out for a run. You didn’t make me do anything. I did it to myself, even if I knew better deep down.”
His eyebrows bend with sympathy. He’s figured out I’m talking about way more than the rain or the run.
“I could’ve stayed in the gym,” I continue, “where everything was familiar. I wanted to try something different. I don’t regret it. I learned a lot about myself. Mostly that I don’t like being caught in a downpour.”
He looks around at the trees surrounding us, or maybe at nothing in particular. The smile returns to his face. The same smile he gave me the first time we met at his father’s office ten years ago. The same smile he turns on to charm almost everyone he encounters. That smile doesn’t set me at ease like it used to. It feels forced. Like a mask.
“Well, I’m obviously coming with you,” he says, his tone jovial. “I can’t let you walk through a soaking-wet park by yourself. Plus, I have the car keys.” He offers his hand. “Come on.”
Our fingers link together naturally as we walk the trail in silence.
I know what we’ve decided. He knows what we’ve decided. But neither of us talk about it. Not when we climb into the car. Not when we return to the office.
“I hate this.”Vivian is sitting across from me at a high-top table in a fancy wine bar downtown. It’s Thursday night. I didn’t go to Trish’s mother’s viewing. It was nice of her to invite me, but it’s not my place to be there. Benji went as a friendly gesture, and I don’t blame him. It was the right thing to do. He’s a good person. And now that we have officially ended our sexual relationship, though we never said the actual words, it’s time for him to do more things without me.
“Everything worked out for the best,” I lie. “I had an absolute blast. I didn’t lose my job or my best friend. You know Benji, he rolls with the punches better than anyone.”
“I don’t understand how he didn’t fall for you. I’ve only known you a handful of months and I’m in love with you.” She regards me tenderly.
“I love you too.” Vivian and I have grown close. “But, hon, everybody knows you’re in love with Nate. There’s no room for me.” I sip my wine. She doesn’t smile at my joke.
“You can’t be okay with this. It doesn’t bother you that he let you go?”
Well, when she puts it that way, yeah.
“I’m the one who walked away.”
“Yeah, I tried that too. I was hoping Nate would come for me, no matter what I said.” She squints at me as if trying to see straight through to my soul.
“Our situation is not like yours and Nate’s. It’s been two days since the park, and everything is back to the way it should be. No more awkward standoffs at the coffee pot. Our jogs have been good, and dry.” Still no smile from Viv. “We work together better than ever. We cohosted a video conference call and practically finished each other’s sentences. Things are back to normal.”
Except that I really miss him flirting with me, touching me casually, kissing me in the hallway. And the day we stopped in the middle of a workday to have sex wasn’t bad, either. But what we had wasn’t everlasting, and if I believed it was, I was lying to myself.
I take a gulp of my wine instead of a sip this time.
