Ricochet

by Ashley Haynes

  I didn’t hear from Cash for the rest of the weekend. He strolled in Sunday evening unannounced. I didn’t get off the couch.

  “Hey, you. How was your weekend?” he asked, tossing his bags down.

  “Fine. How was yours,” I asked, bitterly. The longer I sat here and thought about it, the more pissed I got about Beth. I’m fuming.

  “It was barely tolerable. Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Does your brother know you were fucking his wife?” I barked.

  “Jesus Christ, Lilly. How… how do you even know? What, you go through emails from almost a fucking year ago? I don’t think you get to be pissed about that. I think I’m the one that gets to be pissed that you went through my shit, and it’s pretty fucking pathetic that you were so desperate to find something that you had to go back that far,” Cash asserted.

  “First of all, don’t fucking talk to me like that. Second of all, no, I didn’t go through your emails,” I lied, “I had to get into your contacts on your computer to find your brother’s number. You have her in there, along with which holes she prefers to have penetrated. And I’m only pissed because you didn’t fucking tell me.”

  “Why in the fuck would I tell you that, Lilly? In what situation would that have fucking come up in conversation? It’s not like I was trying to keep it from you. You always think I’m trying to keep shit from you when that is not the case. Think logically for a fucking minute,” he argued.

  “I don’t know, on the fucking drive there. Like ‘yo, this chick might be a cunt because I had to stop fucking her and she’s salty about it,’ would have been a nice heads up. You said you didn’t have any other secrets, no other dirty laundry. That would have been a good time too,” I challenged.

  “Everybody has secrets, Lilly,” he sighed.

  “That’s apparent. Just makes me wonder what the fuck else you are keeping from me,” I accused.

  “I’m sure you’ll find some way to find out. You thrive on the fucking drama,” he chided.

  “Fuck you,” I scoffed.

  “Yeah, fuck me. That’s all you can say because you know it’s true. If we don’t have a problem you create one, like the walls are starving for a fucking argument,” he fumed. He must have had a shitty weekend. This was our first real argument. Typically, I get angry and he talks me down. I don’t know how to react when he gets angry right back. Maybe he’s still coming down off the coke. Maybe I’m just a fucking asshole. He took off towards the bedroom and slammed the door. I wish I still had my apartment to retreat to. I felt like I was invading his space. I felt like crying. I took a few minutes to compose myself, and followed him to the bedroom. I eased the door open and peered inside. He was on the bed, scrolling on his cell phone. He looked up and rolled his eyes.

  “I’m not in the mood to fucking argue with you, Lilly. If you’re coming in here to keep it going, turn right the fuck back around,” he charged.

  “I’m not. I want to apologize,” I said meekly. I have a hard time admitting when I’m wrong. I don’t even know if I’m wrong, but this is one of those situations where someone has to give. It’s usually him, and I think it’s finally my turn.

  “Well, don’t,” he warned.

  “Why? Why would I not be sorry? I am. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have attacked you as soon as you walked through the door. It just…it threw me for a loop and then I sat here and brooded on it all weekend,” I explained.

  “Well, to ease your mind, Hank’s a piece of shit. He cheats on her all the time, treats her like shit. I’ve seen it. I’ve facilitated it, hooked him up with girls that are not her. I was there spending the weekend one time when she caught him in a lie and she flipped the fuck out. He stormed out, and she asked me if I thought she was wrong. I was drinking, and I told her no but that if she was my girl and talked to me like that I would bend her over my knee. She basically said ‘yes, please,’ and it went from there. I’m not proud of it, but I don’t fucking feel bad, either,” he defended.

  “Wow, okay. Well. Thanks for your… uh-forthright honesty. Still, I’m sorry, okay? Can you take it down a couple notches?” I contended.

  “Listen, Lilly. I don’t… I don’t think this is gonna work out,” Cash stated. My breath caught in my throat.

  “What isn’t going to work out, Cash?” I asked through my teeth.

  “Us,” he replied.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I choked, tears welling in my eyes.

  “No, I’m not,” he sighed.

  “So, because I find something out that you didn’t want me to find out and call you out on it you’re going to break up with me? What kind of fucking bullshit is that?” I cried.

  “There’s just… I don’t know. There’s too much bullshit to wade through. This… this was all a mistake,” he stammered.

  “You don’t mean that,” I sobbed.

  “Yes, I do. I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t want to keep hurting you. You deserve a fresh start and so do I,” he uttered.

  “You don’t want to hurt me? That’s hilarious because this fucking hurts. This hurts worse than anything else I could find out. This hurts worse than anything else you could do to me,” I maintained.

  “I just… I know that’s not true. Trust me, this is for the best,” he insisted.

  “Where is this coming from? Did something happen this weekend? If you cheated on me or something just tell me, we can fucking talk about it, don’t just… you don’t have to do this,” I begged.

  “Do you have somewhere you can go?” he asked, coldly.

  “So you’re breaking up with me and you’re kicking me out? Really? You’re really doing this,” I gasped.

  “Lilly…” he sighed.

  “No, I don’t have anywhere to fucking go. I’m really bad at maintaining relationships, apparently,” I lamented.

  “What about Regan?” he asked.

  “Regan hasn’t talked to me since you beat the shit out of Hunter in her bathroom,” I explained.

  “Well, I’m not going to put you out on the street. You can stay here as long as you need to. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight until I can get your bed put together in the other bedroom,” he offered.

  “Wow, is it that bad that you can’t even sleep next to me? What the fuck did I do?” I sobbed.

  “I just think we need a clean cut, that’s all. As clean as it can be, anyway. I don’t know if I can seamlessly transition into being roommates, so the sooner you can find a place, the better,” he wavered. The crack in his voice made me lose it. The trembling sadness that made it seem like this hurt him as much as it hurt me. The hint that he might not want to do this, but feels like he has to. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how someone can wake up one day and decide they don’t want to love you anymore. I want to be angry. With all the shit he’s put me through, he should be the one groveling while I pack up my shit and walk out on my terms. This isn’t fair. I try to find anger and it isn’t there. All I can feel is broken. I sank to the floor and buried my face in my hands. I could no longer control the sobs, and they wracked through my entire body. Cash joined me on the floor, and pulled me into his chest. I cried harder.

  “Don’t… don’t make this harder than it already is,” he stammered.

  “If it’s hard, why are you doing it?” I pleaded.

  “I’m a piece of shit, Lilly. I love you. I do. But I’m also a piece of fucking shit, and I don’t… I don’t want you to have to keep paying for it,” he explained, tears welling in his own eyes.

  “What the fuck did you do? We are too old to be playing these games. Just tell me what this is really about,” I begged.

  “I can’t. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore. But mostly I’m fucking selfish and I don’t want you to hate me,” he confessed.

  “There’s nothing you could do that could make me hate you,” I argued.

  “Well, you’re wrong.” With that, Cash stood and stormed out. I heard the door to the apartment slam. I dragge
d myself to the window just in time to see him peel out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It’s not that I thought we were invincible. I’m not a complete fucking idiot. I just never thought it would happen like this. I’d imagined a life together with Cash, but I’d also imagined a life without him, he just happened to still be a part of it. If anything, I thought we’d just fizzle out and drift apart. I’d wake up one Wednesday morning and realize that I was bored. We’d spend evenings in silence, staring at the television. We’d stop fucking. We’d realize we loved each other, but weren’t in love. We’d part ways amicably and remain wonderful friends. We’d teeter on the verge of inappropriately flirtatious and make future significant others uncomfortable. I’d call him after a bad break up and he’d come over to console me. Ice cream and sappy movies would turn into platonic cuddling, because we care about each other. Then one of us would make the move, and he’d fuck me until I forget my last name. He probably has a girlfriend, so he feels bad, and we don’t talk for a while. I find a guy who’s mediocre but worships the ground I walk on. I make him let Cash be in the wedding party. I’m not even welcome at Cash’s wedding, although he calls me the night before to make sure he’s doing the right thing. I tell him I don’t know. He does it anyway. Years go by, we maintain contact. He gets into a fight with his wife and calls me to meet him for drinks. We start a glorious affair, made all that much more exciting by the fact that it’s bad, and it’s wrong, and we shouldn’t. That’s as far as I got, it kind of fades to black from there.

  Of all our possible outcomes, I never thought “and we didn’t talk anymore after that,” would be one of them. At the very least, we should go down in a blaze of glory. Not this. I want to fight. I want to push back. I want to make him tell me what happened. I want to hate him. I don’t want to be this slobbering puddle of broken-hearted fuckery. I know something happened. I can see it in his eyes. I can hear it in his voice. I wish he would tell me what and just let me fucking hate him. This wallowing, shattering sadness makes me yearn for the charge of white-hot hatred. I wish I had somewhere to go. I wish Regan would answer my calls. I thought about just showing up over there and crying on her doorstep. Potential awkwardness with Regan is a much more welcoming thought than continuing to lurk around Cash’s apartment, bumping into each other and crying every time he avoids making eye contact with me. We’re like strangers. Worse than strangers, he smiled more when we were strangers.

  I’ve used all my sick days to fuck or recover from fucking. I have to use vacation days to look for an apartment, and my request for immediate vacation was denied. The soonest they can grant me off is three weeks from now. I want to quit my job and move to Florida with my parents, but I know this is a terrible idea. I can barely stand my parents when I know I have a home to go back to. I love them, but I love them from a distance. The conversation with Cash to let him know we had to side step each other for another three weeks did not go well.

  “That sucks,” he sighed.

  “I am aware. I am aware of the suckiness of the situation. Why don’t I just… You know what, I will just sleep in my car at the rest stop down the highway. Or move into the janitor’s closet at work. It’ll be fine,” I quipped.

  “You know that I’m not going to let you do either of those things. Why don’t we go talk to Diana, see if she’s got an empty unit you can move into,” he suggested.

  “You think that’s an option? You think I can stay here? Ride on the elevator where I fell in love with you? Walk past all the spots in the halls where you took my hand in yours? Walk through the fucking lobby where you’ve kissed me goodbye more times than I can count? Be your fucking neighbor?” I scowled.

  “Well I figured being my neighbor would be a better option than continuing to be my fucking roommate. Sitting on the couch where we kissed for the first time, where I fucked you more times than I can count. That’s the shit I can’t handle, Lilly, and I need you out of my fucking apartment. Sooner, rather than later,” he exclaimed. I was taken aback by his cruelty.

  “I don’t want to be here, either, but I also do not want to lose my job. I want to move on with my life as soon as fucking possible, especially since you don’t even have the fucking balls to tell me why it’s suddenly so God damned intolerable to be around me. All you’ve got is a bunch of ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ bullshit, and we both know that’s the oldest fucking cop out in the book. So why don’t you tone it down, act like a grown up, and fucking talk to me,” I seethed, finally starting to find my anger.

  “Lilly, don’t. This isn’t… we’re not doing this,” he sighed.

  “Why? Why can’t you just fucking tell me where the switch got flipped? Why, because you’re scared that I’m going to hate you? Guess what, I already fucking hate you. You know why? For wasting my Goddamn time. You pushed, and you pushed, and you pushed for me to let you in. Then when I finally do, you pull this shit? I refuse to believe that you are that big of a fucking sadist that you would string me along for this long just to hurt me. I know you better than that. So something happened. Something happened, which if I found out about, would be more painful for you than this. That kind of narrows it down, and I’m not a fucking idiot,” I spit.

  “Oh, Lilly. We’re not doing this,” he groaned.

  “Don’t be such a pussy! I already know what you did. Come on, go down with a little honor, man,” I taunted.

  “Really. What fucking off the wall scenario have you cooked up?” he challenged.

  “You fucked Claire. That’s why that dude showed up here looking for you guys. She took off with you for the weekend, and you fucked her, over, and over. You were fucking her when I called you, and you had your brother cover for you,” I accused.

  “You’re fucking insane,” he retorted.

  “Maybe, but am I wrong?” I challenged.

  “See here’s the beauty of the situation; you can sit there and wax poetic all day long about what you do or don’t deserve, call me whatever you want, think whatever helps you feel better, but I don’t have to answer to shit. Welcome to the real world, where not everything gets wrapped up in a neat little bow for you to process. Sometimes shit just turns out badly. My suggestion is that you spend less time trying to figure this out, and more time looking for a fucking apartment,” he barked. Fucking. Noted. He stood and grabbed his keys from the kitchen. He walked towards the door and paused. He turned to look at me.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this, Lilly,” he said, “I didn’t want all this… venom. I thought it would be different, I thought it would feel different. That it would have that kind of sickly sweet pain like when you had a loose tooth as a kid. I thought it’d be sad but hold a little bit of beauty. That’d I’d tell you we couldn’t be together and you’d shed a single tear and walk off into a grey dawn,” he mused.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I interrupted, rolling my eyes, “get the fuck out of here with that shit. I’d imagined things a bit differently, too. But, to echo your earlier sentiment, welcome to the real world, where that kind of shit doesn’t happen.” Cash shrugged his shoulders and nervously bit his lip.

  “Listen, I just don’t… I don’t want either of us to say anything else we might regret. I would like for both of us to be able to look back on each other fondly, so just do me a favor. If you love me… let me go,” he said before turning to walk out the door. Maybe I should let him go. Maybe I shouldn’t waste another ounce of my energy or drop of bodily fluid on him. It’s time to accept that he’s not fucking around. That he’s really done. Whether he found somebody else or fucked somebody else or just spent a weekend without me and realized how much happier he was alone, it didn’t matter. Time to knock off the denial and deal. It was also sinking in that I had absolutely no one. Cash had become my entire fucking world. The only friendship I had cared to (barely) maintain was with Regan, and she wasn’t returning my calls. My entire world was crashing down around me and I have no one.

  I’ve got to give i
t to Cash, though; I wish this could be a little less bitter and a little more bittersweet. We’re probably not good for each other. I just wish that I would have known that our last kiss was our last kiss, I would have made it more memorable. I think it was a quick peck as he left for the weekend. I wish I would have known our last fuck was our last fuck. Maybe he did, and that’s why he made it special. I wonder how we’ll say goodbye for the last time. When I find a place, and pack the last of my bags. Will he sigh and wish me well? Kiss me hard for the last time? I wonder what it will be like if run into each other, if I run into him out with a new girlfriend. I bet he treats me with disdain and then tells his new girl all about how miserable I was, turn me into a cautionary tale to make her feel special and better. I am such a fucking idiot.

  I picked up the phone and tried to call Regan for the 200th time. To my surprise, she answered.

  “Hey, Lil. What’s up?” she asked.

  “Why have you been avoiding me, Regan?” I immediately challenged.

  “I’ve just been really busy. Is everything okay?” she deflected.

  “No, everything is not fucking okay. Which you would know, if you hadn’t of blown me off for the past fucking month,” I cried.

  “I’m sorry. Things got weird I didn’t know what to say,” she defended.

  “Things got weird? I’m so sorry that things got weird for you. I needed you. I still need you and you weren’t fucking there,” I accused.

  “I’m here! I’m here. What is wrong?” she asked. I started sobbing as I tried to tell her what happened.

  “I can’t understand you. Come over. Sounds like a Ben and Jerry’s kind of situation. I have to run to the store. Meet me at my apartment in thirty?” she comforted. I hung up and tried to pull my shit together. At least I can get the fuck out of this apartment. I packed my suitcase with a week worth of work clothes and headed towards the door.