Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
Romel was off all day yesterday, and when I woke up this morning, he seemed completely unlike himself. I know what today is—Larissa warned me, and I’m grateful she did.
I wish he’d talk to me. Truthfully, he’s been more distant ever since the dinner with my dad last week, but this is on another level.
I’m worried about him.
He grabs his keys and murmurs that he’ll be back later. I nibble my lip, hesitating for only a second before I decide on a course of action. Without second-guessing myself, I grab my keys, get in my car, and follow him to the cemetery. I don’t really need to follow him since Larissa told me all about his typical routine—every year on the day Sydney died, he goes to the cemetery alone and then comes home. Larissa suspects that he usually gets shit-faced once he’s home, but they leave him alone until he calls or comes to get Kaylee, and by then he’s pulled himself together.
I can’t imagine going through your grief alone like that. Maybe that’s why I follow him, because I want him to lean on me and know he’s not alone.
Or maybe it’s because I want to see for myself if there’s a place for me in his heart, or if it’s buried with Sydney.
I watch through my windshield as he walks sullenly across the lawn to a spot near a large oak tree. He stands there for a moment, his shoulders hunched, and then he drops to his knees, his head in his hands and his back shaking.
Tears fill my eyes and I can’t stand the distance from him anymore. I rush out of the car and to his side, dropping to my knees next to him and wrapping my arms around his back. He leans against me for only a minute before he rears back, and the devastating loss in his eyes clears and turns into confusion and anger.
“Meredith? What are you doing here?” He looks around before his accusatory gaze lands back on me. “You don’t belong here.”
I’d opened my mouth to tell him I was here for him, but any words I had die in my throat when I register what he said.
You don’t belong here.
Another tear slides down my cheeks, and it finally hits me that this is it. He either lets me in or he lets me go, but it’s not fair to either of us to stay in the in-between anymore.
“You can love us both, Romel. You know that, right? I don’t need you to act like Sydney never existed. That wouldn’t be real. She did exist and she made you the man you are and literally created Kaylee. I’m so thankful for who she was, and I know there’s room in your heart for both of us.”
More tears slide down my cheeks as my defenses crumble. This is it. My Hail Mary pass for his heart. If he can’t give me what I need, then I have to take my dad’s advice and walk away.
“I don’t care about being the woman who came after the love of your life,” I say, laying it all out there. “Maybe I should, but I don’t. All I know is I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. ”
His mouth parts in surprise as I finally say the words that have been dying to come out for weeks. His gaze darts between my eyes and his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t speak, so I barrel on. “I want you and Kaylee to be mine. I want to stand by your side and be your strength when you miss her. I want you to let me in, all the way in. I want you to love me.”
Pain fills his eyes, and the truth I was too in denial to see shines in his gaze.
My voice is barely a whisper when I speak. “But you won’t let yourself love me, will you? Because it would be a slight to Sydney’s memory?”
His voice is barely a croak when he speaks. “I can picture a future with you?—”
“But can you love me? Because what’s the point of a future together if you’ll never let yourself love me? And that’s the real root of the problem, Romel. You could love me, but you won’t because you don’t know how to love two women at once. I’m not asking you to love me the way you loved Sydney. She was your first love, the woman who gave you an incredible daughter. She will always be those things to you, Romel, and I’d expect no less. But I need to know if there’s room in your heart for me ? Can you love me?”
He stares at me, but no words come out of his mouth. The longer we stare at each other in silence, the more I know what I need to do, even though it’s the last thing I ever wanted. It’s not fair to do this to him today, but I can’t keep pretending.
My heart shatters in my chest as I lose any semblance of holding myself together and tears stream down my face.“I quit,” I whisper.
I quit accepting less than I deserve. I quit being a stand-in mom for Kaylee when I want to be her mom. I quit trying because he’s made it clear I’m the only one fighting for us.
Still, he doesn’t say anything. He stares at me like he’s frozen. And then his gaze slides to the grave marker, and my heart shrivels in my chest. I was always fighting a losing battle, wasn’t I? I never stood a chance.
I was never going to be the love of his life.
Because he already had it.
A sob bubbles up my throat, and I know I’m seconds away from completely falling apart. “Goodbye, Romel,” I choke out as I push myself to standing and walk back to my car.
He doesn’t follow me.
I drive straight to my dad’s, brushing away the tears I can’t keep inside the entire drive. When I walk into the house, my dad is sitting in his favorite chair, sports highlights playing on the TV. As soon as he sees my face, he stands and lets me run into his arms, holding me tight as I finally let myself feel it all—the pain, the heartbreak, the loss.
“I’m so sorry, Sweetie.”
“I really thought he could do it. I wanted him to so badly.”
“I know you did.”
I sob in his arms until I have no energy left, and he walks me to my bedroom. It’s just as I left it, and that only makes everything worse. I feel like I’m going backward instead of forward.
Maybe I should’ve gone straight to PT school instead of taking a year off. Maybe I never would’ve gotten my heart broken.
I can’t decide if this feeling is worse than the numbness I felt before. But I guess I’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.
I wake up the next morning, my eyes swollen and dry from all the crying I did last night. I roll over in the bed and stare at the pictures I’ve hung up on my wall over the years—of my dad and me, friends, pets, art prints I bought because they made me happy. All things that used to be important to me at one point in my life.
There are two people not pictured on that wall who have come to mean more to me than nearly anyone else. But as I stare at the pictures—my chest aching so much it hurts to breathe—I start to accept that like many of those friends I don’t talk to anymore, maybe Romel and Kaylee were meant to only be part of my life for a short amount of time.
Yet they’ve left a lasting impact that I know I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.
There’s a knock on my door, and I hate that I immediately wonder if Romel came after me.
“Sweetie? I made your favorite blueberry pancakes with lemon whipped cream.”
I bury my face in my pillow and let myself feel the disappointment for a count to ten and then I take a large breath and push myself up. “I’ll be right out,” I tell my dad, wincing at how rough my voice sounds.
I wait until I hear him walk back toward the kitchen and then I open the door and walk across the hall to the bathroom. I splash my face with water, hoping the cold will help the swelling on my eyelids. I take a breath and then face my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are dull and red-rimmed, my eyelids so puffy it looks like I got stung by a bee. My skin is paler than normal, my cheeks completely missing their usual rosy glow. My hair is in a messy knot on the top of my head, and I don’t have the energy to make myself look more presentable.
When I go out to the kitchen, there’s fresh coffee with my favorite creamer on the table next to a pile of my favorite blueberry pancakes. He used to make them for every birthday and holiday. When I was twelve and heartbroken that a boy I liked teased me and called me stupid for thinking he could ever like me, he started making them to cheer me up. He sets down a bowl of whipped cream and the maple syrup, then turns to go back to the counter for the extra berry compote he always makes. I grab his hand and stop him.
“Thank you, Dad.” I hope he can see the sincerity in my eyes. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
He drops a kiss to my forehead. “It kills me to see you hurting, Sweetie.”
“But pain reminds us that we’re alive, right?” He used to say that to me when I’d fall and scrape my knee. I don’t think he ever imagined I’d turn it around on him for this type of situation.
But I’ve also never had my heart broken as badly as it’s been by Romel, and I need the reminder that this pain will allow me to appreciate the joy I’ll feel in the future.
He grabs the berries and then joins me at the table. For a while we eat in silence. When my plate is half cleared, I set down my fork and pick up my coffee mug. “I’m going to look into grad schools.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “For physical therapy?”
I nod. “Yeah, and I think I might look to see if there are any programs I could start right away instead of waiting until next fall. Spring semester for most people starts end of January.”
He watches me closely. “If you’re sure, but you also don’t have to rush into anything. If you need more time off, you can still stay here.”
I cover his hand. “Thanks. I really do appreciate that, but I don’t want to get stuck wallowing. Maybe this is what I needed to push myself to take the next step. I’ve been thinking about it for a while anyway. I’ve already been looking at schools for a fall start, but now I’ll just move that timeline up. ”
“Whatever you want to do, you know I’ll support you.”
I feel a little lighter as I finish my breakfast and head back to my room to research what I’m going to do for the rest of my life.At some point, I need to go back to Romel’s house to get my stuff out of the guesthouse, but I’d rather wait until his next away game, so I know he won’t be home.
Three days later, I get an unexpected phone call from one of my favorite professors I emailed about a recommendation. “Hi, Dr. Hawes.”
“Hello, Meredith. I was so happy to get your email and hear you’re going to pursue physical therapy. I reached out to a friend of mine who runs the PT program at her university in Boston. I know you said you wanted to stay in California, but she said she’s willing to make some room for you to start in January as a favor to me. She said you’d likely need to take some classes in the summer, maybe two summers, but you could definitely get caught up enough to graduate with everyone else in your class.”
I sit down heavily on my bed. Boston. Could I move that far? I’ve never wanted to leave California or be that far away from my dad, but maybe it would be good for me to spread my wings. I could always move back here after grad school.
While I don’t love the idea of Boston—especially in the winter—I do need a change.
“One more thing,” Dr. Hawes says, pulling me from my thoughts. “She was wondering if you could come out for an interview on Friday.”
“ This Friday? As in, three days from now?”
“Yeah.” I can practically hear her wince through the phone. “ I know it’s short notice?—”
“No, I can do it. I’ll be there.”
I write down all the details and then go out and tell my dad. “Is this crazy?”
He smiles. “It’s an adventure. You’re going to be amazing.”
I hope he’s right.