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Someone else was better than me.Stacey from work—so painfully random.
Patrick leans over and tries to comfort me by placing his hand on top of mine, but I wave him off like a pesky fly.
“I have to leave,” I utter.
He throws me a confused look.
“I mean, I have to move out,” I clarify. “Right? The lease runs under your name. And I could never afford this place on my own.”
I can’t affordanythingon my own. A crushing pile of debt has been overshadowing my life for years. My résumé is nothing but a long list of bad decisions—a flawed life that was about to change.
Patrick’s support allowed me to study for my GED without having to worry about money. I was so grateful, and too besotted to realize how vulnerable I was because of my dependency on him.
Patrick swallows dryly and suggests a nod. “Well, yes. I actually took care of that already.”
I throw him an impatient look. “Took care of what?”
He shifts in his seat, a pained expression lacing his face as he lowers his head, his fingers nervously fiddling in his lap.
“Well, since… you know, I know money is tight for you—”
“Tight as in I don’t have any,” I interject.
“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, clearing his throat before he adds: “That’s why I asked Mrs. Warden if you could live with her.”
“You what?!”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay! She said it was totally fi—”
“Of course she said that! What the hell is she supposed to say?!” I cut him off, almost jumping up from my seat as I gesture toward him. “Patrick, this is fucking insane! How could you drag my old teacher into this mess, just so you can feel better about kicking me out of my home!”
“I’m not kick—”
“Yes, you are!” I burst out, dangerously close to tears. “I woke up this morning thinking everything was fine and the only thing I have to worry about is that damn job interview next week. I thought about what to make for dinner tonight, what to watch on Netflix… and meanwhile, you…”
My monologue is cut short by a violent urge to cry. I choke on my own tears as I try to suppress the heaves that rattle my chest, but it only makes things worse.
I feel so utterly humiliated, so stupid, so blind. I was so focused on finally achieving an eye-blink of security for myself that I didn’t even realize my relationship was falling apart.
I neglected him—and he found someone else. Someone better.
I hated being dependent on him, but he never made me feel bad for it—and I thought I could repay him one day. I thought we were in this for the long run.
Meanwhile, that cheating bastard arranged a new living situation behind my back.
“I’m sorry for being such a burden on you,” I murmur. “That’s what you’ve been thinking, right? That I’m a fucking social case who can now become someone else’s responsibility?”
He sucks in a sharp breath of air and looks like he wants to respond, but I beat him to it.
“Well, I’m not!” I continue my furious rant. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you! And I certainly don’t need you to make phone calls on my behalf!”
He flinches when I jump up from my seat, now towering above him as he watches me through fearful eyes.
I turn around and march toward the door, fetching my phone and purse in the process.
“Where are you going?” Patrick’s voice follows me down the hall, stained with indignation, while I struggle to slip into a pair of flip-flops.
I have to get out of here. I have to get away from his sorry face and the disappointment he represents.
