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“I told her… I told her…I made a mistake. I never should’ve…”
I shut the window before I can hear any more. So much for him trying not to be ‘selfish.’ If he was really trying, he would leave me the hell alone. I’ve made my peace with it.
Retreating to the bed, I lay down, willing myself not to shed any more tears over the boy I thought I knew–that I thought loved me. Even if I had any left to shed, the pain that makes them possible isn’t there anymore. Or rather, it’s there, but it’s hard to reach beneath the emptiness. That’s fine by me. He doesn’t deserve my pain, or my tears.
I close my eyes, hoping my exhaustion will overpower my emotions so I can get some sleep. Before I can tune out, Dad comes in and sits on my bed.
“I’m guessing the real inspiration for your move is driving away right now?”
“Promise you won’t tell Mom?” I whisper, since there’s no point in denying it.
He gives me a curt nod.
“Thanks.”
“Look, I’m no fan of things getting too serious too early. But if it’s meant to be, there’s plenty of time for that down the road. Wes is a good kid, and he’s family. Is running away really the best idea?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve done all these years? Run away when the season starts.” I give him a cold stare.
“I guess it might look like that.” He shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “You can’t hide from Wes forever.”
“I know.” I drop my head in an attempt to hide my heartbreak.
“He thinks that’s your plan.”
“Not forever. Just until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” I busy myself pulling at a thread on the comforter.
“He’s hurting too.” Dad lays a comforting hand on my leg.
“Yeah, right,” I say with a huff, rolling my eyes hard enough to crack a socket.
He gives me a gentle squeeze. “He is.”
“Why would you tell me that?” I still my fingers. “You just said it’s good that we don’t get too serious too early.”
“It is good. But he can care about you and still make a smart decision based on where life is taking you both right now. And he can feel bad about how that played out.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t.
“He wanted you to have this.” Dad hands me a book, the same one I deliberately left on my nightstand earlier. I feel my eyes well up and everything floods back in as I take it in my hand, tracing my fingers across the cover. “Get some sleep.” He kisses me on the forehead and shuts the door on the way out.
The book feels too familiar in my hands. Why would he do this? I was finally starting to feel better–feel normal. My chest tightens as I try to shove the hurt back down, but with the book in my hands, I can’t.
Fidgeting with the cover, a piece of paper shoved inside catches my eye. I don’t want to open it, but I can’t help myself, avoiding curiosity has never been my strong suit. Hell, it’s what got me into this mess. When I do, the scrap of paper falls into my lap and I hesitate for a moment to open it.
Sawyer,
If you’re reading this, I didn’t get the chance to talk to you before you left. I didn’t get the chance to own up to my mistake. I hope that’s not the case because there’s so much left to say, but I understand if you’re not ready to hear it. That’s why, just this once, I’ll give you the space you want. Just this once.
Love, Wes
Love, Wes? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. I slip the note back in the book and stuff it in my nightstand, slamming the drawer in the process. How dare he act like he’s doing me a favor.
Just as I did before, I don’t add it to my bag when I leave.
Eight Years Later
Sawyer
