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I’m even more thankful to see my house coming into view a few minutes later. I peel off way too much money and thrust it to the front before getting the hell out of that car that felt more like a cage with every passing mile.
Darby is still sitting on my doorstep. She has her bag with her, and she’s obviously waiting for her own cab to show up. When she sees me, her huge blue eyes get even bigger. “Oh my god, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
Alright, so now that question annoys me.
“Did you forget something? I can help you…shit, I should tell that guy not to leave! Oh my god, he’s pulling away!”
“Darby!” I bark. “Just let him leave. I’m not going. Call them and tell them that I’m not going.”
She’s stunned into absolute silence. She’s staring at me, and the disappointment hasn’t crept in yet. I want to make it inside before it does and before she lets me know all the ways I’m a failure and a true Lord Poo.
Unfortunately, it’s rude to close the door in her face and lock her out, so as much as I want my privacy, I leave it open. Because I’m just trying to be polite. Not because I actually want her near me right now, to calm me down and reassure me. Not because I want her soft touches and hungry kisses. And not because I need her to tell me that I’m going to be alright and that I haven’t fucked this beyond redemption six ways to Sunday and then back again.
Instead of seeking comfort, which I will not allow myself to do because I haven’t forgotten that I’m not supposed to be all soft and squishy and teddy bearish, I round on her. “What did you expect? That a few days would change everything?”
She snaps her mouth shut and grabs her phone. She makes a quick call while I pace to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I down it fast in large gulps, my chest heaving.
I need to stop before I wreck everything. Because I could definitely wreck everything. And even though I know that’s what I need to do because yeah, yeah, my brain keeps telling me that Darby isn’t for me, I know it intrinsically to the marrow of my bones. That actually makes sense because all of me fucking aches at the moment.
Darby storms into the kitchen a minute later, and she’s prepared to let me have it. It’s a good thing because I’m ready to do battle. This is going to be explosive and spectacular, and then I’ll be alone, and everything will go back to normal. Well, almost everything. I still have some arsehole cards left up my sleeve to assure myself that Darby will never want to see me again.
“So all the stuff this morning about you wanting to do this, to figure things out, be together, and move forward together, that was just a lie to get in my pants?” Darby asks me. She’s seething, and the words are hissed out. Her cheeks are scarlet.
I can’t lie to her about that. I can’t do it. “No.” I don’t want her to ever think I used her. I would never do that. “I wasn’t lying. In the cab, I realized that I just can’t do this.” I point to her. “It’s the same shit. I thought I could hope, but hope is ridiculous. It is me. Those tests are probably just going to confirm that I could be mush in a few years. That with one more knock to the head, it’s all over. I’m not going to saddle you with that. You want a good life, a family of your own, kids, and normal shit that is perfectly normal to want, and I can’t give that to you.”
Darby slaps her knee, which I guess is code forI’m seriously pissed at you right now.“You don’t know that because you won’t go for the tests!”
“Yes, well, you married a coward, I’m afraid.”
“I get that you’re scared. Who would want to know they’re messed up and that the end of good times might be coming? But you don’t know what they’re going to tell you! They could very well tell you that you’re fine and give you some medication for the headaches, and everything would be great. You’d have your life back!”
I whip off the sunglasses I’m still wearing and wrench off my suit jacket so hard that the seams rip. It’s a rather satisfying sound. Once that’s off, I tear open the top buttons of my dress shirt so I can breathe again.
“You want to be left alone!” she seethes. “You’re just freaking out right now, and you’re mad and sad, and you’re trying to chase me away.”
“No. You don’t understand. We do not have a future.” I use my perfectly condescending voice, knowing it will probably only piss her off more. “We cannot have a future because I have no real future.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’ve heard all this before. The truth is, you don’t know jack shit until you get those tests, and you need to get them. If you’re not ready, fair enough. But you should get yourself ready, and soon. Pep talk or motivate yourself, or do whatever you have to do. Just please, don’t be too afraid to take care of yourself. If you already think you’re going to self-destruct physically, is there any harm in having someone tell you that? Because I bet that they won’t. You’ll be surprised, and it will all be good, and you would’ve spent all these years worrying for nothing.”
“How is this being fair to you?” I ask because I truly want to know. “Even if I’m physically okay, I’m not okay mentally.”
“Then you need to change that. You need to go to therapy or some healing course or something. You should talk to a grief counselor or someone who specializes in childhood trauma. You need to forgive your mom for never calling the cops on your dad and for abandoning you. Not because she deserves it, but because it will make you feel a whole lot better. You need to…to… I don’t know. There’s a big freaking list. I can give it to you at work if you want.”
“You’re fired.”
At this, her mouth drops, and the scarlet in her cheeks deepens to a dark purple. She doesn’t scream at me, doesn’t go off on a tirade. She doesn’t even flip me off. Her whole face changes, the anger on her face morphing into shock. She bites down on her bottom lip, but she’s not going to cry. She just looks at me like I’m the pathetic one right now, the one that needs pity. It makes me feel gross and small, and I’m sorry that I pulled out that stupid ace from up my sleeve.
“I…it would just be so awkward,” I stammer, trying to bring myself out of the hole I dug, but I’ve made it, and I can’t just climb out and pretend I didn’t act like a total bosshole jerk who abused his power against his own wife—a woman who cares about him and who always, always had his back. “I’ll give you severance and make sure you have references and…I’m just sorry. I appreciate everything you did for me in every way, but this just isn’t going to work. Coming back here is real, and the tests are real. It’s like a death sentence. You can’t understand because you haven’t lived a quarter of what I have, and that’s not pulling rank. It’s just a fact. The other facts are that I don’t want a wife because I’d be a shitty husband, as I’m proving to you right now. I never wanted to be married, and I don’t want kids. You might have convinced me that I can be a decent person, but I’m not marriage material.”
Darby shakes her head. She’s clearly coming around to the mindset that there’s no use in arguing with me right now. “Fine.” She throws her hands up in the air, exasperated and at the end of her patience at last. “Fine, Leon. You want to fight to damage things beyond repair, but I’m not going to let you.”
I press a little harder, waiting for the clean break that I think is going to give me so much relief. I can hear it snapping, the strings that held us together, but that breakage just feels like total shit. “Too bad. You don’t have a say in it.”
Finally, at last, she gives me the middle finger. “Call me if you ever want a grilled cheese. Or anything else. You know where to find me.”
I don’t give her an answer.
I also don’t stop her from leaving.
