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“Well, I better get the plates out,” Brenna said, getting to her feet. “I ordered pizza for the boys for lunch and they should be here any time.”
“Oh, that was nice of you,” I said, glancing up from the stick. I stuffed it into my pocket.
“Eh, Mondays, you know?” she said with a chuckle. “Thought it would be a nice gesture. You wanna stay for lunch? We’ll have plenty.”
“Oh, no thanks,” I replied, smiling. She was sonice.“I’ve got a million things to do today.”
I had nothing to do except laundry. I just didn’t want to see Rumi. If he hadn’t come in to visit while my car was in the garage and he knew I was there—he clearly didn’t want to see me.
“Alright.”
She walked me to the door and waved as I strode back to my car and climbed in. I didn’t check, but I was pretty sure she watched me as I drove away.
Something must have happened at the club that I didn’t know about. They must’ve noticed that something was going on with Pop. It was the only reason I could think of why she’d ask me how things were going at home.
As I drove home, I contemplated whether or not I should say something to Brenna about what had been going on. She was right. Her husband probably could get Pop to knock off his bullshit… but what if he couldn’t? What if he said something to Pop, and that just made him angrier? Or what if I tattled on Pop and it messed up things for him at the club? The Aces were Pop’s entire life outside our family, and I didn’t know what was going on with him but I also didn’t want to ruin his life.
I still loved him even though I was getting more and more scared of him by the day.
He’d shoved me, but he hadn’t actually hit me. Coming close to hitting someone wasn’t the same as actually hitting them. Maybe he would’ve stopped himself even if I hadn’t dodged and fell over the lawn chair.
By the time I got home, I’d convinced myself that saying nothing was the right thing to do. I wasn’t about to tear apart our entire family because Pop was struggling with something. After all the years of him being the strong one, protecting us and caring for us and making us feel important and loved—didn’t I owe him the benefit of the doubt? He hadn’t been himself for a couple of weeks but that didn’t erase the years when he’d been the best man I knew.
With my mind made up, I went in to do my laundry and clean up my room before I had to pick Bird up from school. I only checked my phone a few times to see if Rumi had called.
That night was refreshingly normal, and I left my phone in my bedroom to force myself from checking it.
The next night was easier because I couldn’t keep checking my phone while I was at work.
I started marking my days by whether Rumi had called or Pop had lost his temper.
A week later, I still hadn’t heard from Rumi, but Pop had thrown a coffee mug at the cabinets in the kitchen and we’d had to wear shoes for a few days in case we hadn’t found all the glass shards.
He hadn’t thrown itatanyone, so I continued to keep my mouth shut.
I thought about calling Rumi that night just to hear his voice. Even if he was dismissive or rude, I still would’ve relished it. Instead, I took Bird for ice cream and went to bed early.
Spring slowly turned into summer. We celebrated my birthday with cake and ice cream. Rumi didn’t call.
So, when Rumi’s birthday rolled around, I didn’t call him either. It was really strange, and the entire day I felt like I was forgetting something.
I knew that Icouldcall him. It would’ve been so easy to pick up the phone—but I didn’t. I’d said we needed space, and I’d slowly come to realize that there wasn’t enough space in the universe to help me get over him.
It just wasn’t going to happen.
Talking to Rumi or not talking to Rumi made no difference. I still loved him. He was still my person. I still ached for him to touch me months after the last time he had. He was still the last thing I thought of as I fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up. I still wanted to call him anytime I saw something funny or weird or just interesting. I thought about his smile way too often, the way one side was just a little higher than the other and how his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Staying away from him was the safer choice.
At club events, I tried to keep as much distance between us as possible, but it was excruciating. He brought women with him, so many women. A different woman every time—and I had to be polite. I introduced myself when they eventually ended up in the same little group that I was in. I smiled. I laughed. I made conversation. Never actually looking directly at Rumi. I couldn’t. Not if I want to keep my emotions in check.
And while I figured out a life without my best friend, Pop continued to lash out.
He threw a lamp. Screamed at Nana. Shoved Bird. Locked me out of the house. Threw dinner, complete with the plate and silverware in the trash because he didn’t like it. Told Nana she was getting fat. Called me an idiot. Screamed at me for putting a dent in my own car—I hadn’t. Someone had hit me in the parking lot at work and took off without saying anything.
He screamed, and he yelled.
But, it was onlysometimes.
