“I miss you,” I breathe out before my filter catches the confession.
“Yeah,” he whispers with a cringe.
I wait for him to say more, I wish for it, but he remains silent. I pick up my check off the table and hand it to him. He takes it from me and taps the paper onto his other fingers, his gaze never leaving his hands.
“I’m taking Lily and Gage to the movies tonight … you should come. We could stuff their faces with an obnoxious amount of candy and sit back and watch the mayhem ensue. It would be fun. Just like old times,” I say, my voice slowly fading away as I notice the way his face shuts down halfway through my request.
He shakes his head and grimaces. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Celia.”
My shoulders slump in defeat. “Is this really how it has to be? Please, Cain. You’re my friend … my best friend. Can’t we move past this?”
He pulls off his glasses and tosses them beside me on the table, along with my rent check. He scrubs his face with his hands and inhales deeply. When his eyes meet mine, he grabs behind my knees and pulls me closer. Nose to nose. Eye to eye. We have nowhere to hide. I wish more than anything I didn’t have to.
“I love you, Celia. I’m in love with you.” A tear spills onto my cheek, and he winces. My reaction is a slap in his face, and I wish I could take it back. “But I kind of like me, too. And you’re fucking killing me here. So, no, we can’t move past this.” He spits out the last words in a mocking tone, and my heart clenches as I bite my lip to hold back a sob.
He stands and walks away, leaving me huddled over myself on his table. I try, but fail, to pull myself together, and a box of tissues hits the table beside me. I feel his presence beside me, rigid and looming, but I can’t bear to look up and see the disapproval in his eyes. I collect myself as best I can, snatching the pieces of my heart up off the floor and clutching them to my chest as I stand up to leave.
“I don’t mean to be hurtful, Celia, but I don’t know what you expect from me. I’m giving you what you want. I’m respecting your wishes. I only ask you to respect my feelings in return. Asking me to go back to the way things were before I loved you? It’s cruel and insulting.”
My body numbs exponentially with each word he utters, and I feel as if I’m a bystander watching the most horrific collision with no way to stop it. How could he think I don’t respect his feelings? Maybe it’s because I’ve never told him otherwise. What would be the point? My explanation would only cause him to shoulder part of the load that lies solely on my shoulders. The truth in no way changes the outcome. I still can’t love him the way I want to—the way he deserves. Telling him the truth only unburdens my soul, and what’s the point in that? Guilt and I are long-time friends—this is merely another link in a seemingly endless chain.
He lifts the envelope containing my rent check. “Thank you for bringing this to me. But I’ve spoken with Adam, and he’s agreed to collect your rent from now on. I think it’s best.”
I gather my purse off the floor and clutch it to my stomach. “I understand. I’m sorry for bothering you,” I whisper as I turn to leave, shuffling my feet forward with every bit of energy I can muster.
I reach the door and grab the knob to close it shut. Cain calls my name before I click it into place. I open it just a fraction—enough to see him standing there, hands fisted in his pockets, a pained expression etched on his face.
“Just so you know, Tink, I miss the fuck out of you, too.”
I should be happy to know I’m not alone in this. It should ease the ache to know he’s hurting the same as me, but that’s not the way it works. As another tear splashes onto my cheek, what’s left of me unravels for the hurt I’ve caused.
“Hello, Lucas.”
“Are you going to keep your promise?”
“I try to keep my promise every day. But I need your cooperation to make it happen.”
He’s tuned me out before I start the second sentence. My answer is as repetitive as his question. We dance this dance over and again, never changing, never wavering from the script we’ve set.
“I’ve brought something for you today,” I say with as much cheer as I can muster.
“Oh?”
I place the iPod and headphones on the table between us, and Lucas stares at it expectantly. “Some people find music drowns out some of the … noise in their head. I’ve loaded mostly classical music so there would be no extraneous voices. I’d like for you to try it. It could help.”
He shrugs and turns his attention back to his notebook, acting unimpressed with my newest idea. With his refusal of all medications and therapy, I’m willing to try anything. My hand is continually outstretched, but I get minimal participation in return. How do you help someone who thwarts you at every turn?
“Who do you see when you look at me, Lucas?” I clasp my hands on top of the table and wait for his answer. I’ve asked myself this exact question over a hundred times in the past week. Who does he think I am to him? Why does he think I come here? If I’m being honest, the answer is a tangling of vines and branches so deep it’s nearly impossible to locate the origin.
He continues to write in his tablet, but his strokes become more jerky and frantic. My question frustrates him. “You’re the girl who refused to let me go … give me peace.” His hand stops moving, and he narrows his eyes at me. “And now I’m stuck in this place … this hell.”
He leans forward and grabs my hands. My breath catches, and I tense in my chair. This is the first time in years that Lucas has voluntarily touched me.
“Please, Cece, you have to promise to never leave me. I can’t do this alone. Please … promise me.” His voice cracks as he grips my fingers and pulls me closer.
Promises will be the death of me; this is the one truth I know with complete and utter certainty.
I drop my head to the table and touch my forehead to our clasped hands.
“I promise,” I whisper.
When will this pain end?
“I promise,” I say with more force, clenching my teeth to will away the anger, the guilt, the resentment.
How dare I feel this way?
“I promise.” My tears wet our fingers, and Lucas lays his cheek on top of my head.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you sad. I shouldn’t have told you those things.”
As if his statement marks the end of our conversation, Lucas picks up the headphones and places them over his ears. He fiddles with the iPod, and a small smile plays upon his lips. I’ve given him a tiny slice of peace.
He picks up his markers and continues scribbling equations while humming softly to himself. I watch him, thinking back to the boy I once knew, the love we once had.
How did we get here?
My life is suffocated with more regret than I can handle. More blame hovers over me than I can ever apologize for. Audrey and her parents blame me for not saving Lucas soon enough. Lucas blames me for having saved him at all. And now, Cain blames me for not being able to move on with my life.
“How do I fix this, Lucas? How do I make sense of this mess I’ve created?”
I don’t expect an answer. He can’t hear a word I’m saying, but it relieves the tiniest amount of pressure off my chest to say the words out loud. I know my fifteen minutes are almost over, and Audrey will walk up any minute. Just for today, I can’t bring myself to care.
“Please, tell me,” I whisper as he closes his eyes and enjoys the music. “How do I make two plus two equal happily ever after … for everyone … even me?”