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I reach for the glass of water Clementine left on the table. "Have a drink."
She takes it, and as brief as it is, when our fingers touch, I'm instantly breathless.
"Sorry," she mumbles into the glass as she drinks.
"Your father came to see me today." Emotions light the kindle of distance and she takes a step back. Two steps between us, but it feels like a lifetime of misunderstandings and baggage. I wish I could incinerate it all with a wave of my hand. "He told me what actually happened. He told me you didn't call Gerry, that you called him. And that you made him promise not to tell anyone. But he didn't keep the promise, did he?"
"No."
The confirmation doesn't bring the relief that I had hoped. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me when I asked you? Why did you let me believe that you'd called Gerry?"
She flinches with every word. "Ididn'tlet you believe that. I tried to tell you I didn't call him. But you didn't listen."
She did. She did. This wasn't her fault. It was all mine. "Clarissa."
But she's not done. "You put two and two together and came up with some ridiculous number. When you should never, ever have believed Gerry over me!"
Guilt stabs at my chest. "God, I know that, I know that now. I'm so sorry. I should've known better."
She nods, eye glistening. "Yes, you should've. I didn't tell you because we both promised that night that we weren't going to tell anyone we'd talked. And I kept my promise even if he didn't." She takes such a deep breath, I worry that she's having another anxiety attack, but she continues, "I lived my whole being poisoned by him about how to treat people. It took getting to see the world on my own to see how bad my behavior was. You called me a bitch. I was one. I am one. But I'm trying. I'm not going to let my father ruin all of that."
I want to pull her to me, I want to tell her that she's achieved so much. "Incredible. He said that I was the reason you'd give up all the progress you made. He said I was the reason that all that you'd learn was going to waste. "
She doesn't answer for a few seconds, then she says, "Maybe neither of us should've trusted the other."
I frown. "What do you mean?"
"I mean my green card."
Oh, my god. I had completely forgotten about that. I had meant to tell her about it that night. But then the whole debacle happened with Ravel and then we went to Milan and it completely slipped my mind. I had meant to talk to her about what she wanted to do.
"You kept it from me," she accuses me.
I shake my head. "I didn't mean to. I forgot. I really did forget."
Her eyes narrow. "I don't believe you. You should've told me the second you got the phone call." She's right. I hadn't wanted to tell her until I'd figured out what I wanted her to do. "You're no different. You didn't hit me, you didn't kick me out of my house, but you didn't let me make my own decision either, Matthias! How am I supposed to trust you, if I can't even trust you to tell me about things that affect me like this? You had no right!
We stand there, two broken people, scarred by our good intentions on our ways to a separate hell.
Tears splash onto her pale cheeks, and I ache to brush them away. To absorb her pain with mine. But there are still things she wants to say, and she deserves for me to hear them.
"I'm so tired, Matthias. I'm tired of my anxiety. I'm tired of crying over you. I'm tired of having to explain and apologize for things I did when I was a different person. I'm tired of having to show everyone I've changed only for them not to see it. Because each time I do, instead of reminding myself how far I've come, it pulls me back to the past. And that's a very unhealthy place for me to be."
"So, don't. Don't look back to the past." My hopelessness deepens. Burying so deeply inside me, it feels like there's no way it can ever be dug out.
Her chin lifts, and she smiles sadly through the tears. "You don't get it do you? You're the one pulling me into the past."
There's no holding back the hurt that causes me. "I'm so sorry."
She gives me a tear drenched smile. "I know. Wouldn't it be great if we didn't have to keep apologizing to each other? I'm not good for you, either. Look at your life. It's just as much of a mess as mine is. Don't you want to find someone who makes everything easier instead of harder?"
I reach over, taking her hands in mine. Her touch feels as new as the first time. "Do you honestly think that I will ever be with another woman?"
She doesn’t answer my question. "Doesn't it hurt just being together? Wouldn't your life be better without me?"
My hand cups her face, and she leans into it, just a little, molding her cheek to my palm. Fitting perfectly. "Oh, my darling, show me a loss that will hurt like losing you." I swallow the sob stuck in my throat. "Do you need time? And space? Tell me what I can do?"
Her hand cups mine. "You need to let me go. You need to release me from this pain. I can't take much more, Matthias. I'm not strong enough to push you away. You need to do it for me. It's what's best for me."
