by Staci Hart
His brow dropped. “Being here is just as scary, just in a different way.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. “Did you just compare me to Seth?”
“I’m putting myself at a risk here just as much as I am with Seth. We haven’t even talked about … anything, really. Nothing about what happened before or what will happen next. Not a word about how we feel right now.”
“Because you said we should just ignore it.”
“That’s not what I said, Rose. I said one day at a time, which is what we’ve been doing. But I’m caught between here and my place like a quarter in a coin toss. I have no home, and I can’t keep staying here.”
“So, you’re going to live with Seth instead?” I shook my head, my cheeks hot and tingling. “That can only go up in flames.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw hard. “How am I supposed to know that this — whatever this is between you and me — won’t end in flames too?” He waited for an answer for a brief second. “I don’t. I don’t know any better than I know about Seth. But I have faith in both of you.”
I breathed deep, trying to keep up with what was happening. “I don’t understand. After everything Seth has done to you, I can’t believe you would have any faith in him. He hurt you.”
“And I hurt him. And you hurt me, and I hurt you. It’s all a risk, no matter what I do.”
“I hurt you?” My hands trembled as I held the sheet under my arm. “I hurt you. You destroyed me.”
His jaw clenched. “Do you think this has been easy for me? Seven months I’ve been trying to move on. Seven months of punishing myself, of wanting you to punish me. Seven months of regret. You weren’t the only one who was hurt, Rose.”
“Well, you fucked up.” Tears burned my eyes. “You left me with no explanation. You left me here wondering what I’d done, if I wasn’t enough for you, and then you brought someone else in just to drive the point home. I thought you were it. I thought you were everything, but you didn’t even respect me enough to tell me why you were leaving.”
His voice cut through me with every word. “And you didn’t respect me enough to give me a chance to explain. You didn’t care enough to put your pride down and forgive me. You let me suffer all that time. Did it feel good? Did it make you feel better to know that I’d spend the rest of my life knowing I’d never get a chance to make it right? You knew how much it hurt, and you let it happen.”
My body was ice cold. “Just because I pretended not to care doesn’t mean this has been easy for me.”
He shook his head. “You couldn’t fight for me then because you were scared, and you’re still scared.”
“I’m not scared. You’re the one who ran away, Patrick.”
“The difference is that I came back.” He flipped back the sheet with a snap and stood, striding across the room to his clothes. He grabbed his pants, pulling them on as I gaped, heart slamming against my ribs.
“This is what you do. You leave. We can’t solve anything because you won’t talk to me.”
He spun around, his face bent in pain. “No. We can’t solve anything because we’re too broken for this to work. You can’t let me in any more than I can because we’re fucked up. I want you. I want to be with you. But you can’t ask me to stay. You can’t stand up and tell me you’ll fight for me. It’s too big and hard and scary, and you’ll run away forever. And I can’t keep chasing you, Rose. I can’t—” His voice broke, and he turned again, bending to pick up his shirt. “I can’t, Rose. I just can’t anymore.”
I got out of bed, dragging the sheet with me, reaching for his arm as tears slipped down my cheeks. “Patrick, I …”
He turned to me, his face full of fear and hurt and hope as he waited for me to say the words, words that piled up in my throat like a train wreck. I couldn’t speak, my aching heart stunned silent, and the hope left his face, slipping away like a dream.
“After all of this, you still don’t trust me. I’ve done everything I can, everything I know to do. So there’s nothing left to do but go.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark. “See you around, Rose,” he said, and then he was gone.
FAULT AND BLAME
Patrick
I HAULED ANOTHER BOX OF art supplies up the stairs of Seth’s building the next day and kicked open the door, adjusting my grip as I walked through the apartment and into my new room. It was a good size, good light. So far, all I’d moved were art supplies and a duffle bag full of clothes, which I set down on the air mattress Seth had set up for me.
I hung my hands on my hips as I looked out the window, heart thumping just a little hard, breath just a little heavier than it should be with my eyes on the street below.
It hadn’t been easy. Nothing had ever been easy. But every choice I’d made brought me to where I was standing. Maybe if my life had been different, I’d be different. Maybe not. Maybe I wouldn’t be afraid. Maybe I would.
When nothing in your life is certain — not your family, not even your friends — you push everyone out. No, not push them out. Hold them away from you. Stop them from getting in. Because once they get in, you have something to lose.
It was why I left her the first time, but this time was different. This time, I was just tired.
I couldn’t drag her, hold her hand and pull her to keep up. She couldn’t say the words. She couldn’t tell me she wanted me, after everything, after all this time. That moment marked the end of it. I needed to hear that I was important to her. That I meant something. But her silence told me everything I needed to know.
There was only one way to move on, and it was to stay as far away from Rose as I could. And to stay away from Rose meant to stay away from all of them. I loved them — they were my family. But everyone was moving on, and I had to follow suit.
It was the only way I could salvage what was left of my heart.
Seth knocked gently on the doorframe, and I turned to find him looking somber. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” I reached into a box of paints, shuffling them around with no purpose other than to occupy my hands.
“You okay?”
“I will be.”
“You always are.” He glanced at the boxes. “Have anything else?”
“Just this, for now.”
He walked to one and peered inside. “Bring anything besides paint and clothes?”
“What else do I need?”
He chuckled. “So, what’s your plan? With Rose, I mean.”
I picked up my easel case and began to assemble it, avoiding his eyes as I tried to sound unaffected. “Nothing. Lay low, I guess. Work. Paint.”
“No chasing her down? No grand gesture planned? You’re just letting her go?”
“When you squeeze Rose, you bleed for it. There’s no going back, not now. I just …” I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, man. I don’t even know if I want to try anymore. As much as I want her, as much as I need her, I just can’t keep killing myself. One of us will fuck it up, so why hang around waiting for it any longer than I have been? Because I’m tired of waiting. So I’m cashing in my chips.”
“That’s pretty bleak, even for you.”
I chuckled down at my feet. “Yeah, well. I’ll be okay, and so will she. We’ll both be happier this way, in the long run.”
“How are you going to do that and still hang around her all the time?”
“I can’t. But things aren’t what they used to be. Everyone’s busy and pairing off and … growing up, I guess. Moving on. The only way past Rose is to just remove myself from the equation.”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his blond hair. “I’m sorry, Patrick.”
“Don’t be.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you’re here. Really glad.”
I smiled gently, wishing for a hundred things I couldn’t have, but thankful for what I did have all the same. “Me too.”
Rose
I woke that afternoon cold. Maybe it was the sheets around my waist, exposing my naked arms
to the whirring fan. Or maybe it was because I was alone.
I grabbed my comforter and pulled it up, wrapping myself in it like a burrito.
It’s your fault he’s gone.
I closed my eyes against the pain.
He was right, I knew. About all of it. I couldn’t ask him to stay. I couldn’t tell him I wanted him, even when he asked. I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I couldn’t even give him what I wanted.
I was afraid. And once again, I let him walk away.
It seemed we were doomed to keep repeating ourselves, on and on, ad infinitum.
My door creaked open as a tear slipped down my cheek. “Rosie?” Lily called from my doorway.
“Hey,” I answered, the sound muffled, and I bent my neck to wipe my tear away against the comforter.
The fan clicked off, my lamp clicked on, and the mattress dipped as Lily climbed in with me. She tugged gently at the edge of the blanket. “You in there?”
“No.”
“Come on. Give up some blanket. It’s cold in here.”
I peeked out and found her familiar, smiling face, eyes big and soft, and fresh tears burned the backs of my eyes. I blinked to ease them and shuffled to relinquish a hearty portion of my shelter.
We turned to face each other.
“Patrick told me what happened.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Well, sort of. You know, in that Tricky way — one sentence at a time and with very broad strokes.”
I chuckled.
“You okay?”
“Not really.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
She smiled, and the gesture she made told me she thought I was full of shit.
I sighed. “I don’t even know what to say. He was here, and it was good. And then Seth came poking around, and now he’s gone.”
She gave me a look. “Are you really trying to blame this on Seth?”
“Well, sort of. If he hadn’t shown up jingling the keys to his apartment, we wouldn’t have had the fight.”
“Fair enough, but that isn’t really what the fight was about, was it?” she asked like she already knew the answer.
I dodged the question with one of my own. “What did Tricky say?”
“He said he was moving in with Seth and didn’t give up all that much about the actual fight. Just something about him being convenient and you not being ready.”
I resisted the urge to burrow into my covers so she couldn’t see me. “I don’t know, Lil. It started off about Seth, but it wasn’t really about Seth at all. It was about us. It was the truth about how we saw everything, and it didn’t feel good to hear. It didn’t feel good to say.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound irreparable. Maybe you just need some time to cool off.”
“I don’t think so. I think …” I swallowed hard. “I think this is it. He wanted me to ask him to stay, and I didn’t. I couldn’t. I let him down, but it wasn’t fair either, to demand that I just say what he wanted on the spot.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Rose.”
“Ha. That’s funny coming from you.”
“Ha, ha.” She pinched my arm, and I snickered. “I mean, I get it. You don’t do well under pressure or when you’re put on the spot.”
“No, being backed into a corner does that to me.” I sighed.
She shook her head. “No, you’re right. That wasn’t very fair.”
“But then … I don’t know.” I shuffled under the blanket, feeling uncomfortable. “We hurt each other. I don’t think there’s any way for us to get past it. I don’t think either of us can get over what we feel to see the other one’s side.”
“So it’s snowballed into this dirty old mess.”
“No, the dirty old mess had been brewing. Probably since the first time I ever laid eyes on him.”
She gave me a look. “Seriously, who are you, dramawhore?” she joked.
“I don’t know,” I said with a hint of desperation. “I feel like I’m devolving. Next thing you know, I’ll be crying into a tub of ice cream watching The Notebook.”
“I thought your period was over.”
My face pinched. “I don’t need an excuse to have feelings, Lilith!”
She laughed. “I mean, I can get some Ben & Jerry’s and make this happen. In fact, I’ve got some Boom Chocolatta in West’s freezer, if you want me to get it.”
I chewed my lip. “Maybe.”
“Just say the word.”
I looked into her eyes, and sadness overcame me. “Everything has changed.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“I don’t know where I fit in. Neither does Patrick. That’s why he was here, really, and I get it. And at some point, probably soon, you and West are going to really move in together. And then what happens?”
She sighed and picked at the blanket. “Honestly, we haven’t really even talked about it. I don’t mind Tricky being around, and neither does West, but he seems to mind being around us, beyond the whole sex thing. Don’t get me wrong, he hasn’t made me feel unwelcome or anything, but I can tell that something bothers him about it, something bigger than how he feels about West and me.”
“You’re a reminder that we’re alone.”
She didn’t respond, though her eyes went even softer.
I reached for her hand. My best friend. “For all that time, we were alone together. It’s just different now. You and West are like a unit. It’s not like we don’t see you alone, but part of you is always with the other one. It’s beautiful and brilliant, and we want that for you, but it underscores the things we lack. For a second, I thought … “ I sighed again. “I guess I thought Patrick and I had found something together again. I should have known we’d never work out. We’re doomed.”
“You two just need to talk to each other,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“We don’t talk, Lily.”
“Ugh, that’s so annoying.”
“What? Not everyone’s like you.”
She huffed. “I know, but still. Ninety percent of your problems would be solved if you just talked about it.”
“But this is our thing. This is how we work, Lil. When we’re fine, we’re fine. And when we aren’t, we walk away and shut down. The issue is that we’re both like that, so a grand total of zero problems get solved.”
“So break the cycle. Go talk to him.” She gave the advice like it was just that simple.
“And say what? I swear to God, I walk into conversations with him with every intention of being honest and open, but in the moment it’s like my dum-dum switch gets flipped, and I lock up. Like my mouth just goes on the fritz and all I can say is stuff like ‘Whatever,’ and ‘Fine.’ That’s not a conversation. We just don’t know anything else.”
“What about writing him a letter? That way you can think about everything you want to say.”
“I don’t even know what I want to say.”
“Well, obviously you need to figure that out first.”
I thought about it, about what I’d say, but the second the ache in my chest peaked, I pushed it all away again. “I’m not ready.”
Lily smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Well, that’s step one. And there’s no rush.” She squeezed me tighter. “It’s all gonna be okay, Rosie.”
The tears found their way back, hot and burning at the back of my eyes, emotion climbing up my constricted throat. I couldn’t find it in me to be so optimistic.
PRINCE SOLVES EVERYTHING
Patrick
I WALKED WITH WEST TOWARD Habits that night full of dread, feeling no better about any of it after a long conversation he and I had in his apartment, rehashing it all. My only comfort was the resolve I found, strengthened with every conversation I had about it.
Rose and I were bad for each other. There was no repairing what we’d shredded — we’d done enough damage for a lifetime.
Everyone would be meeting tonight because Maggie
had been accepted as a full-time, salaried employee at the homeless shelter, and I’d never refuse to be there to congratulate her just because of Rose and me. I’d been making it work without her for all these months. Now was no different.
The minute we walked through the door and I saw her behind the bar, I realized how much of a lie that was.
I almost stopped walking but caught myself and pressed on, averting my eyes from hers to scan for everyone else. The group stood gathered at the end of the bar, laughing and smiling as always, the happy couples, plus me and Rose.
They greeted us as we approached.
I made my way around to say my hellos, congratulating Maggie with a kiss on her cheek, trying to put as much physical distance as I could between me and Rose, to match the chasm between us. But it was no use. Somehow I found a way to step to the bar and order a drink from her, standing in silence watching her pour in silence. I couldn’t look away. She seemed happy enough, shoulders back and chin high. But I knew it was for show. I could feel her pain just as much as if it were my own.
She avoided my eyes, handed over my drink as I passed her cash and found a place to stand where I was far enough away, at an angle where we wouldn’t make eye contact. Every minute was torture, and soon after finishing my drink, I said goodbye.
The evening was chilly for June, the wind blowing just enough to push the cold through you, into your bones. But I didn’t want to take a cab. I wanted to feel the cold, feel the ground under my feet. I wanted to remember why this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But I found myself searching for answers, repeating the reasons over and over in my head, like a prayer.
Rose
Being in the same room with him was hell.
I felt him when he walked in, my eyes finding him, his finding mine before snapping away like he didn’t know me. The only words we spoke were when he ordered his drink, his gaze on me so heavy as I poured, I could barely breathe. But when he left a few minutes later, it was without a glance.
