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I’m left speechless, tears of anger pricking my eyes. He wants me? The lowered brow, thinned lips, and flared nostrils all point to one thing—he’s wanted me all along. And I…I’ve wanted him.
Every moment we’ve spent together comes roaring like a tidal wave, memories overtaking my rage and nothing has been clearer. What have I done?
“Was it good for you? Because damn, it was good for me!” he shouts vulgarly. “That Piper, hmm—” he hums, licking his lips “—she’s a real pistol. Went right off when I…”
But I don’t allow him to finish a sentence I have no interest hearing. I yank my wrists from his hold and slap his cheek so hard, I’m almost certain I’ve broken my hand. I clutch it to my chest, tears pricking my eyes.
“You’re disgusting!” I spit, ready to hit him again for speaking that way about Piper.
“Well, better that than a liar.” He rubs his reddening cheek.
“A liar?”
“Yes, Lucy, you’re a liar.”
“How am I a liar?” I cry, not understanding what I’ve lied about. I never denied sleeping with Sam.
He shakes his head, exasperated. “Figure it out yourself. I’m done.” He’s done? Is he leaving? For good? Well, good riddance. I don’t want him here anyway.
The moment those thoughts float to the surface, I realize that Saxon is right. Iama liar. I’ve been lying to myself this entire time.
The backdoor swings open and out charges Sam. “What’s going on? I heard yelling. Is everything all right?” Something the old Sam would say, but that Sam is dead. And so are my feelings for him. I don’t know what I feel for the new Sam.
“Go back to living your memories of yesterday,” Saxon spits into my face, “because you’re too afraid to live for today.” With that, he storms off while I choke back my tears.
Sam is by my side, rubbing my arm. “What’s his problem? Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I unconvincingly state, brushing his hand off of me as I watch Saxon stampede into the barn.
He has no idea what’s going on as he stands clueless before me, waiting for answers. Answers I can’t give. “Coffee is on the counter,” I say in a zombie-like voice, turning towards the house.
“Hey, you’re not going to tell me what happened?” he says, stunned.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I reply, and walk towards the backdoor.
Piper is still drooling on the counter, oblivious to what just happened—lucky her. The moment I burst into my bedroom, hot tears slide down my cheeks. I lean my back against the door, drumming my head against the wood grain.
I remember when we were all having breakfast and I couldn’t quite place my finger on why I wasn’t over the moon that Sam was making an effort. Something didn’t feel right, and I didn’t know why. But now I do. I don’t want things to go back to normal. Too much has happened.
I don’t fail to see the irony in all of this. I wanted so desperately for Sam to remember, but now, I want him to forget.
Nothing makes sense anymore. My endless diaries look back at me from their boxes, taunting me with what once was, but that’s no longer. It’ll never be again. Angrily wiping away my tears, I storm through my room and kick over a box, the contents spilling all over the floor. Dropping to my knees, I frantically rip open each diary, flicking through the pages, desperate to find a blank page—a blank canvas to start new.
After tossing diary after diary over my shoulder, I finally find a fresh page. Hunting through my bedside dresser, I find a pen.
Ripping out the sheet, I use the front of the leather-bound journal as my support and draw my knees to my chest.
Here’s to new beginnings.
* * * * *
June 14th 2014
Dear diary,
I’ve done a bad, bad thing. I’ve fallen for the wrong man.
Yes, call me every scandalous name that there is—it can’t be any worse than what I’ve already called myself.
