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I met her castle.
And now I've effectively sealed the gates myself.
44
Dylan
Afteralong,silent,and agonizing drive back to the gym, I dropped Lake off without another word.
The tension in that car was alive and well, and I didn't know what to say. Our game started off fun and flirty and ended all too raw and real. He'd seen through me, and in attempting to draw me out of the cage in which I live, he'd lost it.
He went off, saying things that stung me in ways he'd never understand. I wanted to avoid him at all costs. Live in my controlled environment the way I'd adapted to so long ago. I was safe there. Secure. In control.
Did some of his words ring true? Maybe. The way he so accurately perceived my reluctance to dream of a future for myself that wasn't simply work and Colin hit me harder than I thought it would.
I lived, breathed, and practically existed for Colin. And while I had found the strength to accomplish a career I was passionate about, I had fulfilled none of my other goals. Never focusing on what makes me happy has made me realize I don’t know what does. When life starts you at a disadvantage, finding normalcy in simply existing becomes your happiness.
I couldn't dream of how my life would be different if not for my responsibilities over Colin. How could I wish for a world without him? It pained me to even go down that road. Even knowing how hard our journey has been, I wouldn't change it. Couldn't fathom it.
Eric dumped me because I wouldn't choose between him and Colin. He wanted me and me alone. But I wasn't alone. I never would be. I accepted that a long time ago and embraced it. While I know Lake wasn't insinuating I had to make a choice between Colin and a future with him, his need for me to imagine my life differently struck me just as hard.
Lake was his own problem. Wanting to open me up without allowing himself to come apart with me. His own reluctance made me question his motives entirely.
Why be so willing to let me in only to keep me out? Who does he live for? It’s not for himself like he wants everyone to assume. It’s for her. His mother, it seems. And his reasons for holding himself responsible for whatever they've endured weigh him down.
As my mind continues to wander, I write checks with a burning pen, practically tearing through to the cheap laminate wood as I empty my account with quick strokes of ink. One for my student loans, one for our health insurance, heat, electricity, credit card bills that never ceased, my car payment, and, of course, rent that was already a month behind.
With my papers scattered around me, I grab the application for the races that Colin has started filling out. My heart sinks as I see the total cost to register. I calculate what we have left and come up short. It doesn’t stop me from writing that check, though. I'll find a way. I always do.
I hear the doorknob twist, and excitement encapsulates me. I missed Colin so much today, and needing his embrace has me scrambling up from my seat to feel my big brother’s hug.
Racing for the door, I unlock it before he needs to use his keys. But when I open it, my entire body tenses in shock.
There he stands before me, arms on the door frame above him, head hanging low between his shoulders. The door opening causes Lake to look up through his dark, messy locks, and his red and daunting eyes find me.
We stand there, just staring at one another for a minute too long. A minute more than he deserves for the painful words he spewed. My stomach knots up as I take him in, breathing in his scent that always seems to drown me. He shakes his head while his eyes crinkle in the corners. Opening his mouth, he just keeps shaking his head, the words trapped in his throat.
I wish this was easier. That our histories didn't hold us back. That our pasts didn't make us so reluctant to embrace what's so natural between us. But the reality is we are two different people, and sometimes our pasts just don't align to build stable, structured futures.
I wait for him to say something. Anything. But he just inhales deeply and closes his mouth again, looking evermore tortured. I go to close the door when he drops a hand and sticks it through the crack, grabbing the door in his large palm. Shaking my head once, I close my eyes.
“Please,” he begs, his tone broken and hoarse.
It catches me off guard, this vulnerability to his own emotions. I pause, my hand still lingering on the old rusted door knob.
“I'm sorry,” he says in a whisper of a breath.
He sounds like he can't breathe. Like the idea of taking in oxygen has become his greatest opponent.
I stand there, staring down at the knob. His hand slowly slides down the chipped door, lower and lower. I watch it. Study the careful motion until it cautiously reaches my hand.
“I'm so sorry,” he says, his voice breaking again.
His icy fingers brush my skin, and the torture he's endured from the afternoon of silence hits me like a spark. My eyes finally find his again and everything in his look pierces through me. His jaw flexes before his breaths escape his lips, choppy and pained.
It can't be this simple. I can't just forget. He can't just apologize. I’ve stacked my walls back up, brick by brick, but if I’m honest, I’m weary and worn from the constant building. The wordnoescapes me breathlessly as I back away from him.
Pushing through the door, he shuts it behind him, rushing me until those large fingers slide their way into my hair. He gazes down at me while holding my head in his hands, like he wasn't sure if he'd ever see me again after what he'd said.
