“Well, I fucking hope so, Kimber, because I’ve never been this unhappy before in my life. I just don’t feel like myself. I’m not Dane without Kimber.”
“But you are. Everything you are is you without me. You’ve always been you without me.”
“And I don’t want to be,” he insisted. “I don’t understand. Look, I can be a better boyfriend. I’m ready for that now. I want to be good for you. I want to be with you.”
She stopped pacing and stared at him. Dane finally offered what she’d wanted after all these years. He knew the script; he knew all the right things to say, as if he’d sifted through the card aisle at Hallmark to pull his inspiration.
But now the offer wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been before, and it certainly wasn’t now. She thought of Jay, insisting he’d only ever need one chance, and she knew it was true. She would never be sitting around, having a similar conversation with Jay, because-all current events aside-Jay would never blow it like Dane had, over and over, without a second thought. A rush of affection mixed with regret flooded Kimber’s chest, and she sighed. “I think you should go.”
Dane watched her, stunned, his eyes like a battlefield after a war. “Are you really serious? You don’t want to be with me?”
“Come on. You know this doesn’t feel right. It never has.”
He stared at the rug, resembling a little boy whose ice cream just toppled from the cone and onto the hot sidewalk. A few minutes of silence drifted by until finally he clapped his hands on his knees with finality and stood. “Well then. Don’t I feel like a real asshole.”
Kimber sank back down on the couch and noted her apathy toward her ex-boyfriend as she watched Dane jam his feet into his sneakers, his movements slow, like he expected her to change her mind. When she said nothing, he said in a rush, “Y’know, Kimber, I really hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. And I hope someday you’ll actually let someone try to make you happy, or else you’re going to be really lonely.”
She didn’t mean to laugh, but she did. What the hell was he talking about? Did he know her at all? Probably not, but that didn’t seem to matter now. “Thanks.”
He shook his head, stunned. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you being so ‘whatever’ about this? About us?”
Kimber wanted to ask him why he’d been so “whatever” about their relationship for more than half a decade, but that would surely prolong his presence. She shrugged instead.
“Fine. I guess that’s it then.” A long pause followed. “I can’t believe it’s really over.” Panic welled in his eyes. “I don’t understand why we have to end things this way, but if you’re being for real, then for what it’s worth, I just want you to know how fucking sorry I am. You gave me all the love and compassion and caring I could have ever asked for, and I just couldn’t reciprocate and I don’t know why. I’m going to try to get help while I’m at my parents’.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I also want you to know how much I care for you. I care for you endlessly, and you’ve changed my life. If I never talk to you again, I hope that everything works out for you.”
The icy ambivalence around Kimber’s heart melted at the sadness and desperation in Dane’s voice. No matter how she felt toward him now, she had loved him once. He’d been the most important person in her life for a long time, and they’d had good times together. She used to love how he’d hug her tight and sigh her name, and when they’d laze around in bed in the morning, making up songs or drawing “tattoos” on each other with washable markers. One of her favorite memories of the times she’d spent with Dane included the night they drank Corona, watched
But laying around in the darkness giggling and feeling close for a few hours wasn’t a relationship-at least, it didn’t count as one for her any longer. She wanted more than that. She deserved more than that. She deserved more than phone calls after midnight, phone calls that were weeks late, phone calls that were had only on Dane’s terms. She deserved more than four dates in a span of a year, more than no Christmas presents, more than forgotten dates and empty promises. For how much she had cared about a boy whose rash of excessive, downright cartoonish bad luck always featured more prominently in his thoughts than her, she had always deserved more.
Kimber harbored no ill will toward Dane, however. She didn’t feel that he was a bad person, just one who made horrible decisions, and she could certainly emphasize with that. He never maliciously intended to hurt her. He had no master plan to break her heart, no blueprints of how to best her, no satisfaction derived from her misery. They just weren’t compatible. The answer really was that simple.
She got off the couch and hugged him, her heart in pain as his grip around her tightened and he cried into her uncombed hair. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed soothing circles over his back. “You changed my life, too. And I really do wish you the best.”
Dane hiccupped for air then pulled away, not looking at her. “I’m gonna go now.” He opened the door and paused, like he had something more to tell her, but all he said was, “Bye.” Then he was gone, and she knew it was for real this time.
Kimber arrived at Ferney’s just as her sister and Paul were in the process of breakfast-misshapen blueberry pancakes served on
“Paul made them himself.” Ferney, wearing a silky black Victoria’s Secret robe, cut into a pancake doused in syrup using the side of her fork and took a bite, making exaggerated
“Careful there, my little waif.” Kimber nodded to Ferney’s plate. “You may actually be ingesting calories.”
“It’s Saturday. I’m allowed to cheat a bit.”
“Once a week, she pretends she has a tapeworm and inhales everything in the cupboards,” added Paul, who, in addition to eating his pancakes, was alternating taking bites from an apple in one hand and a block of Colby cheese in the other.
“Paul! Quit telling my secrets and get back to what you do best-obeying my every whim.”
“Yes, mistress.” The tiniest of wry smiles teased the corners of Paul’s mouth, and Kimber felt wistful hearing the banter. She’d love the intimacy of teasing a boyfriend about quirks learned only through loving someone.
“Hungry?” Ferney patted Kimber’s back. “Do you want Paul to make you some pancakes?”
“I’ll just have some coffee.”
“Paul, be a love and pour Kimmy some caffeine.”
He put aside his apple and cheese and heeded Ferney’s command, despite also manning the browning pancakes, and passed the coffee to Kimber in a faux-mangled mug reading
“Isn’t this fun?” Ferney asked. “It’s like we’re at a diner.”
“I bet I get stiffed like a diner waiter, too,” Paul said.
“That will be true if the wait staff doesn’t remain seen and not heard. Now, Kimber.” Ferney wiped her mouth with her napkin and crossed her legs, resting her shoulders against the breakfast nook’s high-backed bench. “Let’s hear about your night with Dane. I want all the details.”
Kimber summed up the events concerning Dane, lacking emotional investment in her own story. It was like partaking in an obligatory sensible dinner when all she wanted to do was skip to dessert, the whole reason she was there.
“You really booted him out for good?” Ferney gave a polite golf clap. “Good for you. Finally.”
“Mmm.” Kimber twirled her spoon in her coffee, chewing her lower lip.
Ferney sighed. “I shouldn’t be so surprised though. I knew it’d be easy for you to forget Dane the moment you found someone else to make you miserable.”
That her sister’s words stung so much shocked Kimber, and she folded forward and burst into tears.
“Oh shit. I’m a terrible sister.” Ferney slid across the bench toward Kimber and smoothed her hair. “This is about Jay, isn’t it?”
“Everything’s such a mess.” No matter how often Kimber wiped her eyes, tears continued to spill from them of their own accord. “I don’t know what I want to do.”
“You want to be with him.”
“No.” However, the idea spoken aloud by someone else sent a rush of inexplicable optimism through her.
