I tried to understand what his issue was. So what? I’d dated Trey. So what? And yes, we’d continued contact after we dated. Alright, I’d slept with him a few times, even after I told Wally that we were over. Where did Wally get off being upset about that? Like he was some chaste virgin after we met. I’d seen him at a bar with some girl’s tongue down his throat! If those were the reasons he was so bent out of shape, they were stupid.
Maybe the issue wasn’t that I’d remained contact with an ex, but Trey himself. His cousin, whom he hated. Always having the better things. The better job, the better car, the better everything. I didn’t know much about their relationship, but I knew enough. There was no sense of loyalty or family between them.
I saw Trey as a gift, the event that brought me into Wally’s arms. I couldn’t wish that I’d never dated him, because then I might not have met Wally. But it seemed that Wally viewed it completely differently. Trey had tainted me. Maybe he really did think that I was sloppy seconds.
I hated that thought so much that I pushed it away before it could take root.
I knew Trey was an ass. He was condescending and rude. There was no telling what he filled Wally’s head with in those ten minutes they stood out on my porch. I wanted to believe that Wally was better than that, that he was above letting some entitled prick dictate his happiness. But he wasn’t acting like it.
It had been weeks since Trey had stopped by. I knew that if I didn’t do something soon, Wally would be too far gone and this—this wonderful, magical, everything I’d ever hoped for relationship—was going to be over.
Wally was in my kitchen, the refrigerator door open as he peered in, looking for something to eat. It had been at least two days since he’d even been in my home. I didn’t know if I’d get another opportunity to remind him how great we were.
“I can make you something if you want,” I said quietly.
“No. I’m good,” he said, not looking at me.
His back was to me, and I wanted to walk up to him and rub my hand along it. I hesitated, trying to decide if I should. You should, I thought. You’re still his girl.
Carefully, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle, resting my head against his back. “I don’t mind,” I said. “I like cooking for you.”
His hand gave mine a rub and he stood upright, turning around to face me. “Aww,” he smiled, a real smile. “That’s sweet, Punks.”
He cradled my jaw then kissed me sweetly. “I’m fine,” he said. “But thank you.”
This was the most affection he’d shown me in days, and my heart pumped wildly in my chest. I was beaming as I looked up at him. He was smiling too, brushing stray strands of hair out of my face.
“Can you stay with me tonight?” I asked him, taking my chance. “I miss you.”
He made an hmph sound. It was either a sound of pity or agreement. My emotions were all over the place and I was having a hard time reading him.
“I can’t tonight,” he said. “Gotta be somewhere early in the morning.”
“Where?” I asked, hugging him closer.
“Maybe tomorrow night,” he said, avoiding the question. His smile transformed from genuine to forced right before my eyes.
It was pity, I thought with a stinging in my chest. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and walked off.
Chapter 27
The cold, stiff Wally walked around my life for another week. My throat felt thick, swollen with impending doom. I couldn’t believe that he’d walk away from this. After everything, all the good we’d had, why would he?
I hated this, sitting around pining after him. Every time he showed me just the tiniest bit of affection, I could practically feel my tail wagging. It was so uncharacteristic. I was the one who did the cold shoulder. I was the one who pulled away. Never, in any of my relationships, had it ever been done to me.
It felt like justice. A reward to all the men I’d left behind with their hands out, wondering, debating, what they’d done wrong. More often than not, they hadn’t really done anything. But when it didn’t feel right, it just didn’t and I left. Sometimes without a word or reason. I was just gone. Was that what Wally was going to do to me?
Leave? Without an excuse? One day just stop answering my phone calls, stop returning my texts?
In a last ditch effort to keep him close, I sent him a text that simply said, I miss you. Can we talk?
Nothing. Nothing at all. I imagined all of my exes gathering around shaking each other’s hands. “Yes,” they were saying. “Finally.”
“Congratulations, Tom.”
“You, too Will.”
And so on. It almost made me want to call them and apologize.
For the first time since Wally and I began dating, he didn’t speak to me for an entire day. Well, that’s it, I thought and tried to prepare myself for our end. It might not be so bad. I loved him. I knew that I did, but I hadn’t told him yet. So at least that would be a blessing.
I kept thinking that I should end it first, that it would be better that way, but I couldn’t. Each time we happened to speak or I was around him, the words could never come. I was holding on, digging my feet in the ground, unwilling to let him go.
The day after his silence, my phone rang. When I saw his name on the display, my stomach twisted in conflicting knots, and I answered with a meek, “Hello.”
“Hey!” he said, sounding excited. “What are you doing?” I could tell that he was in his car, the loud drum of the engine rolling in the background. “I was about to come pick you up.”
“Really?” I said, hating that I sounded so shocked. “Oh. Well. I’m not doing anything. Where are we going?”
“I’m hungry,” he said. “Wanna get something to eat with my girl.”
I smiled and felt a weight leave me, my shoulders lifting. My girl. I was still his girl. “Okay,” I said. “See you in a few?”
“Yeah, babe.”
He hung up and ten minutes later, honked the horn from my driveway. When I got in the car, he seemed to be in a good mood, a wide smile, and affectionate touches as he pulled onto the road. Whatever funk he’d been under seemed to momentarily be lifted.
He took me to a chain restaurant. It was one of those “Family Neighborhood Grills” that promised good food and cheap beer. It didn’t matter that I hated places like this, I was grateful just to be with him. We scooted into the booth, him pushing as close to me as he could, and ordered our beer.
We were like we used to be—flirty smiles and lingering touches. I held onto his arm under the table and it felt normal and natural. His muscles weren’t tense; he wasn’t trying to pull away. But… There was something behind his eyes. An anxiousness. A quiet worry.
While we were eating, I reached up and smoothed some of his hair back. “Are you okay, Wally?” I tried to keep my voice as open and accepting as possible, telling him that whatever it was that’d been afflicting him, I was there.
“Yeah, Punks,” he said, a crooked smile.
“Are we okay?” I asked more quietly.
He swallowed a bite of his food and cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah, baby,” he said, but he couldn’t make eye contact with me.
I wanted to shake him. I wanted to slap him around a bit. Why was he being so hard-headed and withholding? Couldn’t he see that I was sitting here with my heart and hands open? How many other women would put up with this? I huffed, unable to hold it in, and finished eating.
He continued to talk, but it was about stupid shit that neither of us cared about. A movie he’d watched without me. A conversation he’d had with Ian about some new album coming out. I nodded and made “mmhmm,” sounds, incapable of anything else, too afraid that I’d break down at the table.
As we were leaving he took my hand, walking me towards the car.
“You wanna come back to my house?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said with a noncommittal shrug.
With an exasperated sigh, he got in the car and we drove off
. What reason did he have to be giving sighs? Was he frustrated with me? Fuck that.
I could feel it. He had been pushing me away for weeks, and now I was ready to push right back. We were silent on the ride, my arms crossed over my chest, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel.
Was that going to be something about him that I would learn to loathe? His incessant drumming, like Trey’s off-key humming?
I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want any of this. But I was reaching my limit.
Just as we pulled into his neighborhood, his car made a loud popping sound and sputtered before picking back up again.
“Shit,” he said. “Probably gonna have to get something else replaced.” He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s all I need. Like I’ve got money just sitting around for this shit.”
I softened towards him then, reaching an arm across the middle console to rest against his leg. “I don’t mind loaning you some money,” I said, and wanted to slap a hand over my mouth. Why did I say that? My intentions were pure, but I knew better. Before he even reacted, I tensed, preparing myself.
His head jerked in my direction. “What?” he said. “Are you kidding me? No. Fuck that. No.”
Quickly, I took my hand away. “I was just offering,” I said, feeling stupid.
“Well, don’t,” he said. “I don’t need your fucking handouts. I’m good.”
“Calm down,” I said. “I was only trying to be nice. You know, because I’m your girlfriend.”
He was silent, a tick in his jaw the rest of the drive. I didn’t want to be here now, not if he was going to be pissed the whole time.
I didn’t look at him as we walked towards the house, but then he grabbed my wrist, pulling me to a stop. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been stressed. Okay?”
“Okay,” I nodded. All of this push and pull was making me sick.
“You wanna go in?” he asked.
“I guess,” I said, and followed behind him.
Chapter 28
It might have been nice for us to have some alone time. There was much that we needed to discuss. Then again that might have been horrible. I didn’t know. As it was, Lucas, Marlowe, and Charles were all there.
As soon as we went inside, Wally excused himself to his room and said he’d be back in a few minutes. The way he’d said it made it clear that he didn’t want me to accompany him. I came into the living room and sat on one of their big, fluffy recliners. They had two. The one I’d chosen was huge, big enough to fit two people. It was Wally’s chair, the one he always insisted on occupying. Usually, I got to sit in it with him. We’d squeeze in, legs and torsos smooshed together. My head would rest on his shoulder. His hand would give my leg loving rubs. I wondered if he’d join me on it when he came back down.
Everyone was talking about some festival they were planning on attending in New Orleans—a big two day event with music and drinking. I’d only been to one festival there and while I appreciated it, I felt so lost in the large crowds and bustling streets. People were always shouting from an open bar door, or throwing up down an alley, or trying to convince you to buy this or that. It was too much for me.
The only thing I remembered actually enjoying was a group of young guys who played the drums. They had walked down Bourbon Street, a fierce beat permeating off them. You couldn’t help it, you had to stop and stare. The crowd had parted around them, rushing up to drop money in their tattered old box.
I’d given them $10.
While I was remembering them, Wally walked into the room. He approached the recliner I was in, moved to sit down, thought better of it, and then dropped down into the other one.
My lip pouted out and I took it back in before anyone could notice. Marlowe kept looking from Wally to me, trying to suss out what our issue was, because obviously something was going on. Unable to determine the problem, she went back to their conversation.
We sat around talking for at least an hour. Well, I didn’t say much, mostly listened to them fill each other in on their lives. I found myself actually resenting Marlowe a little bit. None of the looks or words Wally gave her were forced.
He smiled at her. Playfully flirted. Held entire conversations without breaking eye contact. Why was it so easy with her and hard with me? I loved him. All of him. I doubted that she even really knew him.
Growing angry with my thoughts, I abruptly stood from the chair and stormed off towards the kitchen. There was no door to block out their conversation, just an open space, so I heard when they awkwardly ceased speaking. Lucas cleared his throat a few times before picking it back up.
Breathing heavy and trying to calm myself, I stared out of the window above their sink, wishing that there had been a tree or bush or flower garden for me to look at. All I saw was their neighbors siding. And it was ugly.
Tonight. Tonight Wally and I would be having it out. I couldn’t keep this up. Coming to this decision calmed me a little bit, made me feel powerful, like I had a say in my future heartbreak. When Marlowe found me, I wasn’t nearly as irritated.
“Is, uh, everything okay with you guys?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t answer, only shrugged.
She was silent, maybe hoping for me to elaborate. When I didn’t she said, “Well, we’re about to head out.” She turned to leave, but then decided to give me some advice. “Listen. Hang in there. Wally’s just weird. It’ll be fine.” She smiled at me and I hated that smile, like she was telling me some secret thing about him, some insight that only she knew, some Wally wisdom that I hadn’t discovered yet.
I wanted to say, Yeah, I know that he’s weird. Mind your own damn business.
After they left, Charles and Wally came into the kitchen continuing a conversation they’d started in the other room.
“I know it sucks,” Charles said. “And I’m not saying that we definitely are, but we’re thinking about it. I didn’t want to blindside you with it.”
“I won’t lie,” Wally said. “I don’t want you guys to do this. But it’s for selfish reasons. I mean, where would I live if you and Priscilla move out? I can’t afford this place on my own.”
Charles and I thought the same thing, our eyes connecting, but there was no way I was gonna mention it now. Apparently, Charles hadn’t noticed the tension between us and said, “Why don’t you and Kristen—”
“Don’t be stupid,” Wally cut him off before he could finish the thought, almost like he forgot I was in the room.
My face heated with embarrassment and hurt. Charles was trying very hard not to look at me. Wally, too. I wanted to leave.
“Can you take me home?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, and got his keys.
The tension in his car was thick and heavy, pressing down on me. Both of us were bubbling over with unspoken words, the pressure building, and one or both of us were about to explode.
The walk to my front door put a knot, sick and tumbling, in my stomach. I knew that as soon as we made it inside, that would be it. All of my dreams of a future with him would be gone.
When he closed the front door, he didn’t venture further into the house, hovering by the exit. He was gonna do this quick, drive the knife in and leave me there to bleed out.
My back was to him. I wasn’t able to face him just yet. I couldn’t.
“Kristen,” he said.
“I love you,” I replied. Why? Why did I have to say that? It had toppled out of my mouth without warning, falling from my lips like a plea. Don’t, it said. Please don’t.
He took in a breath. “No you don’t,” he said.
I’d already said it. There was no point denying it now. “I do,” I said. “I really do.”
“No. You. Don’t,” he said more forcefully.
I turned towards him. He looked angry that I’d said those words, as if they’d hurt him. And it pissed me off. “How do you know what I feel?”
“Oh my God,” he said. “You don’t love me,
Kristen. You can’t. Look at me. Really look at me. What the fuck is there for you to love? You’re dreaming. Making up some shitty fantasy in your head.” He took a mean finger and pointed towards his messy hair, like I was crazy, insane, for even thinking those words.
“Don’t say that me,” I said, raising my voice. “Like I’m some stupid girl who doesn’t understand what I’m saying. And stop being so self-loathing. What is this really about? Is this about Trey? Do you think that I want some guy like Trey? I don’t. That’s why I broke up with him!”
“Yeah, but you kept fucking him,” he said.
If I’d been standing close enough to him, I might have slapped him. “SO WHAT!” I bellowed. “How many woman have you slept with since you met me? How many did you sleep with after you had sex with me?”
“None,” he said, shrugging.
“You’re a liar.”
“You know what?” he said, stepping towards me. “I’m fucking not. But you sure as hell spread your legs for Trey. Fucking Trey! That dipshit, piece of crap.”
“One time after you,” I said. “One time! And it was after I saw you with that girl at the bar. It was a mistake, but I was hurting and wanted to hurt you.”
He closed his eyes, resting his hands along the top of his head. Only a few seconds passed while I waited for him to speak. I watched him process everything, trying to find the words he wanted to say. “You know,” he finally said. “I’ve been thinking over the last few weeks that I’m not good at this. More importantly, that I don’t want this. This responsibility. This commitment. It’s not me. I do fine all on my own.”
“What exactly do you think I’m expecting of you?” I asked, tears finally coming to my eyes. “We’re good together. We’ve been good together. I know you know that. You care about me, too.”
“I do,” he admitted. “I care about you a lot. More than anyone else I’ve ever been with.” He looked at me, really looked at me, and I could see his pain. It was hurting him to do this. So why was he?
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