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I inhale him again, rubbing my hand over his chest, wanting to memorize his scent, to memorize him. Because one day, sooner than later, I won’t get to do this again. Like Donald and Katherine, and the rest of his family, I become selfish for the remaining thirty minutes of the ride.
My thoughts dwell in the events of the night. I embarrassed him in front of his family. I revealed myself as the kind of girl someone cheats on and leaves for one of their own, someone better. I’ve caused a rift that Charlie will have to repair. That he will choose to repair because they are his family. I’m just the girl he bonded to in a weak moment at a funeral and pitied at another.
I adjust on his lap as his arms tighten around me. The sniffling and tears have stopped, but my throat is still tight with remorse, and jolts of pain shoot from my heart. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pull myself closer to him, resting my forehead against his neck. I can’t look up. I refuse to meet his eyes. I’ll break down if I do, and I must be strong right now.
Greedily nuzzling against his skin, I leave one small kiss there, taking advantage of the moment because once I’m dropped off, we’re done. This friendship that has become a necessity to me, his presence in my life which has become equally expected and wanted, will be over. In retrospect, I knew about his background and wanted to believe we could be different. We can’t, though, and without him in my life, the memories of us will weigh heavy on my heart.
I didn’t know I’d be confronted with the feelings I tried so hard to bury deep down inside. But tonight, because of Liz, memories from the breakup with Jim resurface, wrapping around my neck and strangling the life from me.
The coffee cup was still full even though I ordered it hours earlier. I was too upset to drink it, which was strange because I bought it thinking it would comfort me and warm my insides. The images of him and her swallowed my thoughts, making my heart ache. I remained at that table for two hours before Jim walked in and sat down across from me.
“Charlie, I’m sorry,” Jim said. He reached across the table and took my hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze.
I didn’t move mine, though I should have.
He looked out the window and watched as people passed. I watched him.
I watched his mouth as he said, “We should take some time apart.” When he looked back at me, I didn’t reply. I didn’t argue. I didn’t throw a fit or rant or scream or anything. I was too stunned to react properly, or even improperly, at the time. I was numb.
I looked at him as he stood and placed a five-dollar bill down on the table to cover the coffee and walked out. The shock of what happened, of my new reality, would hit me later that night when I climbed into a foreign bed at a random hotel. The embarrassing, tearful goodbye followed the next day. I wanted to be strong but couldn’t as I packed my things and left. The only bit of solace I found was that I saw him wipe his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking.
As the memory fades, the pain still lingers, but Charlie is my savior, my life preserver in the back of this car keeping me afloat in a pool of heavy emotions and unwelcome thoughts. Yet I’ll let go. I’ll give him up to try to swim again because I know that, like Jim, Charlie will be lured back. They will get him away from me because I don’t support their values or lack thereof.
Being from Chicago is not respectable enough in their eyes, and I grew tired of this game years ago after playing it the best I could. I still lost in the end no matter what I did or said, or sacrificed, including myself.
The car pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment building and parks. We get out, and I steel myself. This is it. This is where I end it, end us.
The talk is quick but not painless.
“No,” he protests because he’s a good man. “This is not the right decision. I don’t see things like that at all.”
I restrain my tears, knowing they’ll fall as soon as I’m inside. “Why fight to make this happen?” I wave between us. “This is not anything. If we end this, this is something that won’t plague you a year from now or embarrass you when you attend a family event because it’s not real. This is a stage in your life when you needed someone there. Someone not from this place. A phase. That’s all. We would have survived on our . . .” I don’t bother finishing because even I don’t believe we would be as strong as we are if the other hadn’t been there. But I know this is the right thing to do. This is better for him than I could ever be. Jim taught me that.
