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Chloe doesn’t answer, but at least she shakes her head. Her gaze drops in defeat, her shoulders sagging. I want to throw my arms around her and kiss away whatever it is that’s feasting on her heart right now, but I have this terrible feeling that she would simply run from me again.
"Chloe, can we talk about this?" I ask. I glance around at the sidewalk in front of her apartment and back to her. "I mean, I’m happy to stand here with you, but for both our sakes, some privacy would be nice."
It takes several more empty seconds for her to respond. She wipes away a tear–I’ll be damned if I don’t find out what’s causing it!--and nods. Without a word, she takes out her keys, unlocks the front door, and lets me follow her inside.
Upstairs, the first thing that draws my attention is that everything is still in boxes. There’s a single mug, plate, bowl, and utensils on the counter of the tiny kitchen, along with a sheet, blanket, and pillow on the sofa. Other than that, the only other box that’s open has "clothes" written on the side in black marker. She hasn’t even unpacked her things in the new apartment, which explains why she’s ordered her food so many times.
"Have a seat," Chloe says softly as she sets her keys on the windowsill and nods towards the sofa. "I’d offer you a drink but I don’t have anything."
"It’s fine," I assure her. I look around before sitting down slowly. "Chloe, is this… is this what a mental breakdown lookslike? Is that what this is? Because I swear to you, whether you still love me or not, I will get you help."
"No, I’m fine. Perfectly healthy and everything," she says, but there’s a hint of acid in her voice. It’s followed by something that sounds tired. "What do you want to talk about?"
"You don’t know?" I ask, looking at her intently. She only shrugs. "Us, Chloe. I want to talk about us. I don’t understand what’s happened. You simply… left. Why?"
"I told you. I can’t do this. Ella is my friend, and she’ll hate me." Chloe stops and wipes her eyes. "I don’t say this to be patronizing or hurtful, but you haven’t known her as long as I have. I’m sorry, it’s just a fact. And even for this time that you have known her, you don’t know her as well as I do. You’re still this larger-than-life, godlike dad she’s always dreamed of having. You’re not the one she’ll blame."
"Blame for what? Daring to love someone else?" I demand, still trying to understand what we’ve done that’s so wrong.
"She’ll blame me for taking you from her."
Chloe stops and presses her hand to her mouth. She looks around, then hurries out of the room only to return with a wad of toilet paper to serve as tissue.
"Tell me how this is better," I say firmly.
"What?"
"Explain it. Tell me how leaving a good job, a man who cares for you deeply and wants a future with you, and all your friends, has made anything better. The person who helped me secure your address also told me no one has come and gone from here, and that you’re not going out much at all. So, how is this life better than betraying your friend?"
"Because… well, because I won’t be the one who hurt her," she says slowly, looking like she’s still trying to understand it herself.
"And so what if you do?"
"What? So what if I hurt her? Your own daughter? Is that really what you’re asking me?" Chloe cries.
"That’s precisely what I’m asking. How is suffering yourself better than not letting her be mad?"
She’s grasping for an answer but is unable to think of anything. She leans against the wall and starts to slide down to sit, but I call out for her to stop.
"Will you please sit on your sofa like a normal person? Or am I now so repulsive you can’t sit two cushions away from me?" I ask, not masking the anger that’s threatening to spill over.
"I can’t. If I get any closer, I’ll end up throwing myself in your arms," Chloe says before dropping her forehead to her knees.
What did she say? Throwing herself at me? As if she can’t stop herself? The first feeling of hope I’ve had in days starts to burn inside me.
"And what’s wrong with letting me hold you, Chloe? What’s so wrong about taking comfort in someone who cares about you, who has never experienced this kind of feeling before? Who absolutely worships you?"
She doesn’t answer. I’m warring about whether to continue to sit there like a wounded puppy or leave now that she’s refused me, but then a new possibility arises. I stand up and cross the small living room to where she’s sitting. Standing in front of her, I reach down my hands to her. It takes her several moments before she looks up. several more before she tentatively puts one of her hands in mine.
"Chloe, come here," I say gently, taking her other hand and pulling her to her feet. I stare into her eyes, even as she looks away, then wrap her in my arms. When she finally relaxes enough to mold herself against me, I tighten my hold on her. With a brief kiss on her hair, guide her to the sofa.
"I love you so much," she finally sobs, taking the handkerchief I hold out to her as we sit, "but I don’t know what to do. I will not hurt Ella. I won’t."
"Shhh," I say, holding her close to me. "It will work out. We’ll find a way."
I gather her in my arms and kiss her. I can’t let go. We stay together like that until she breaks the silence.
"Jeremy, I don’t know what to do," she says in a throaty voice that seems to be laced with pain. “I still can’t think of a way to be together, no matter how you want to reassure me.”
