She’s broken, and it’s up to me to put her back together.
I start driving but have no idea where she lives, so I take the direction of the motel I’m staying at.
She’s still not saying a word, lost in her thoughts, and I can’t blame her.
As she did yesterday, I reach for her hand and don’t let go.
Taking a big breath in, I give her the answer she needed before I attacked her mouth.
“Being loved by my in-laws was the most wonderful thing until I killed their daughter. My parents were never the loving kind, and I never knew what parents were supposed to be like until Pat and Sue. But then… The guilt I carried was nothing compared to the betrayal I felt just thinking about them. So when Pat came last night, I lost my shit. Of course, I didn’t show it to him. I acted as if I was on a mission. I needed to survive and pretend, and that’s what I did. Mark called when Pat left, and I pretended a little more. I was so fucking tired, I crashed down on my bed, but I wasn’t able to sleep. I turned and turned some more and gave up around two in the morning. I left the room and started to walk around town. Remembering everything about Elaine and what we went through. I needed time alone to get my head back on my shoulders. I came here thinking I would tell Mark and her family how she died, but I can’t. I need to leave this place.”
I look at her from the corner of my eyes, but she’s still frozen like a figurine of grief. So, I go on.
“Mark is worried because I disappeared once and didn’t talk to him for five years, and he knows I can do it again. I’m an asshole, Tessa. When I’m not well, I flee. At least that’s who I’ve become since Elaine died. I overthink and get so anxious I need to do some things several times to calm myself. I’m pretty sure Mark knows, but he’s too smart to point out my issues. I’ve hidden it from my entourage in New York, but Mark and I, we’ve shared too much over the years for him not to see things. He certainly had an eye on me the past five years. I’ve seen people follow me, and I always knew it was his way to be there without forcing himself into my life. He’s a great friend.”
Still not a word. I give her more.
“I speak perfect French because I was raised in Paris and went to the American school there. I stayed in the city of lights until my sister left for college in New York, and I begged her not to leave me with our parents. They didn’t fight for me to stay. Anna is the only family that counts, but sometimes she goes too far. Like today. I guess I should be glad to have so many people loving me and caring for me, but occasionally I need peace, I need for them not to worry, I need to be treated like everyone else. Even if I hide my pain, even if I didn’t tell them about the fear I have of people around me dying unexpectedly, even if they see the trouble in me, I need them to act as if I was normal, so that I can believe it too. But Anna never really buys my excuses, and now that she’s with her rock star, she’s even more attuned to my emotions than before. She thinks she can save me the same way she saved Dan Darling.”
“Bullshit,” Tessa finally mutters.
“Exactly. Bullshit. If love was a salvation for Darling, it’s a damnation for me. For people like us. And I hope Anna never goes through what you and I went through, but I also hope she can comprehend I didn’t get divorced or my fiancée didn’t cheat on me. The woman I loved died before my eyes, doing something I asked her to do because I craved the adrenaline and the excitement of being on a mission with my brothers. I killed her by being selfish. Because that’s what I am, Tessa. A selfish asshole. The proof is that I could kiss you again, knowing how it hurts you, how guilt is eating at you right now, how it makes you feel like a piece of shit, I would do it again. Because that’s who I am. You made me feel good, you made me feel alive, warm, cherished so I would kiss you. Again and again, because now that I’ve tasted your lips, I want to drink your juice.”
I park the car in front of my room and stop speaking, waiting for her to tell me anything at this point. She opens the door and gets out of the car. I follow suit, wondering where she’s at.
“Is that your room?” she asks, pointing at the door in front of us. I nod. “When are you going back to New York?” She leans against the frame, waiting for me to open it.
“As soon as I can,” I tell her, loving how she’s not afraid to come close to me.
“Can I ask you to fuck me before you leave?” I almost lose my balance, hearing her words. Almost.
“Fucking you isn’t a solution, Tessa,” I say while opening the door and inviting her in with a gesture of my hand.
“True, but it’s a temporary compress on an open wound, and it seems you’ll be good at mending the abrasions on my heart.” She walks to the bed and lets herself fall.
“Not sure I can take care of your heart, but I certainly can take care of your pussy.” I joke, but like in every joke, there is some truth to my words.
How could I take care of her heart when mine still bleeds my loss? I’m good with pussy
