Forty-One
“ H ey … Nia, what’s wrong?”
I stare at Jaz with the words on the tip of my tongue, but there's an emotional barricade that keeps them from coming out. When I try to speak, tears seep from my eyes instead. As much as I try to put on a tough exterior to convince both Jaz and myself that I haven't been completely demolished by what just happened at my house, the dam breaks and I crumble beneath the emotions. No words come out, only powerful sobs that wreck my entire body.
Jaz steps over the threshold of her front door and wraps her arms around me, and that’s where we stand for the next five minutes, on her front porch with the door wide open, while I cry harder than I ever have before.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispers in my ear after a while. “Let’s go inside and talk about it. Okay? Come on.”
The strain of heartbreak has zapped all of the strength from my legs, so Jaz has to help me inside like I'm an injured athlete. Both literally and figuratively, I lean on her for support, even after we've made it inside and taken a seat on her couch.
“Is everything okay?” asks a confused Michael, who’s dressed in sweatpants and a robe with a bottle of Corona in his hand.
He gets up from his seat to come inspect, but Jaz shoos him away. They exchange some kind of unspoken, married-people-conversation, and Michael leaves the room without saying another word. It’s not until he has made it all the way upstairs and into the bedroom that Jaz finally speaks.
“Okay, sweetie. Tell me what’s going on? What happened?”
“Rome,” I reply, although it comes out in a whimper that makes me hate the sound of my own voice.
“What happened to Rome?” Jaz inquires. “Is he okay?”
I shake my head, struggling to breathe through the sobs, and I absolutely can't stand the way I'm reacting. I've gone so long telling myself that I'm not weak just because I'm a submissive, and here I am crying my heart out over a man too broken to love me. I want to be stronger. I desire to be the perfect example of what a sub should be—submissive, but stronger than tungsten. Yet, love has weakened my defenses. I could cuss out Zane and storm out of his house. I had no problem telling Marcus that I wasn't interested in his brand of dominance. But I didn't love them. Now that the word has fallen from my lips, it has been made real, and true love can hurt more than anything in this world. Maybe Rome was right about it being poison, because I feel like I'm dying a slow death right now, and it is love that is killing me.
“Nia,” Jaz says, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Try to calm down, boo. I need you to tell me what happened.”
“He dumped me,” I force myself to say.
Before I speak again, I repeat the words in my head and let them anger me. I choose anger over sadness because anger is much more useful. Sadness is a bottomless pit that swallows people whole, and you can't move until you learn how to climb out of it with your bare hands. But anger can be the ultimate motivator when it’s righteous and mature. I'd much rather seethe than cry, but it takes all of my focus to fight the tears back.
“He dumped you?” Jaz exclaims in total shock. “For what?”
“Because I love him,” I answer.
The ridiculousness of the statement makes me want to curl up in a ball and break everything in sight at the same time.
Jaz’s forehead furrows. “Wait a minute? I don't understand. He dumped you because you love him?”
“Yes. Okay, bear with me while I try to make this long story as short as possible.”
“Wait. First of all … no. Don't try to make the story short. Don't skip any details. I want to know absolutely everything, because bitch I didn't even know you were in love. Secondly, I think we’re going to need wine for this,” Jaz says.
“Oh, my god. Yes!”
My friend jumps off the couch and speed walks into the kitchen, where she grabs a full bottle of Rosé and two glasses. She jogs back into the living room, sets the glasses on the coffee table, and fills them both to the top.
“Fuck halfway,” she says, handing me mine as she brings her glass straight to her lips. “Okay, now go.”
I take a giant swig of my wine and sit up straight, then I go over the entire story from start to finish. I explain Rome’s behavior at the office—the way he spent the entire day snapping at people for simple work problems that had simple solutions. I tell her about the bar, and how his mood had shifted before Zane walked in and began hurling insults at me like they were bombs. I explain how Rome stood up from his barstool and hit Zane with one lightning quick punch that knocked him out in front of everyone, before screaming at his unconscious body that I belonged to him. It takes time to work my way through the tears that refuse to go away, but I break down everything that happened at my place, emphasizing that I told Rome I was in love with him on the anniversary of his wife’s death.
“He said that love had been nothing but poison in his life—that he didn't love me and never would,” I finish, and before more tears can fall, I pull the wine to my lips and drink until they retreat.
“That bastard,” Jaz says, refilling her glass. “That childish, selfish bastard. I didn't want to say anything, but I was so worried that this would happen.”
“I know. I should've listened to you,” I say. “You told me not to lose myself in him, and that’s exactly what I did. I even let our friendship fade into the background so that I could spend as much time with him as possible.”
“Don't do that,” Jaz says, placing a hand on my knee. “I should've been more supportive, because I understand what it’s like to fall for someone. I did the same thing with Michael when we first started dating, and you took it like a champ—like a true friend. It wasn't my place to tell you not to be all-in for your man.”
“But look where it got me. You were right, Jaz.”
“No I wasn't. You did exactly what you were supposed to do, Nia. You had finally met someone who checked off every box. When you find somebody like that, you're supposed to go for it. Don't let these Instagram and Twitter girls tell you any different. They don't know shit about being in a relationship or what it takes to make one work. You dived in head-first because that’s what you're supposed to do. The only problem was that Rome didn't dive in with you. He couldn't because he was still swimming in a pool of his grief, and until he’s able to pull himself out of that, he can never fully be with you, or anybody else for that matter. You didn't do anything wrong, and I'm sorry that I made you feel any different.”
“I'm sorry, too,” I reply, losing the battle to my tears once again. “Even if I did the right thing, I should have at least listened to you and proceeded with caution. If I would've, maybe I wouldn't have fallen for him so quickly. Maybe I would've done a better job of recognizing the signs. I would've known that there is no winning a competition with someone who has died, especially if they died while still in love. She took his heart to the grave with her. He may not ever get it back now.”
“Damn. I'm so sorry this happened, Nia. I truly am,” Jaz says.
“Me, too,” I reply, as both of us put our glasses down on the coffee table and hug.
“You deserve better,” Jaz says, squeezing me tight. “You deserve someone who is willing to love you with the entirety of their heart, not just the bits and pieces left over from a previous relationship. You've been through so much, Nia.”
“ Too fucking much,” I reply, and my wall of anger is crumbled by a wrecking ball of misery that sends me right back to where I was when I first arrived on Jaz’s doorstep.
My broken heart aches with pain that feels brand new, and I have no choice but to feel it. I hug Jaz as tightly as I can, and I stop fighting. I let myself cry as hard as I need to.
“I'm so sick of this shit,” I mumble into her shoulder as memories of Rome storming out of my house replay in my mind.
I don't love you … and I never will.
“I know, boo” Jaz says as she begins to cry with me. “I know.”