Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Seth
I’m shaking. My trembling breaths and pounding heart the only sounds around me.
The last four hours were a hellscape. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my own skin.
It’s what my father’s best at though, he makes me question myself in ways I shouldn’t have to.
Spending any amount of time near him makes me feel like I could never have the life Ripley’s been asking me for.
I’m looking at the door, but it’s a blurry outline in my unfocused eyes. Or maybe it’s blurry because of the tears tracking down my cheeks.
When did I start crying?
I want to move, but I can’t.
How long have I been standing here?
I look to the kitchen where the clock on the microwave reads 10:34 p.m.
Rubbing at my eyes, I think back to when I got home from dinner. It had to be just a little past eight. More than two hours? How is that possible?
It feels like I’m under water, drowning in the prison I built myself, unsure of what’s real and what’s a figment of my imagination.
But Ripley… he was here. He’s the reason I’ve been staring at the door for so goddamn long, wishing he’d come back.
As soon as the thought flits through my brain, I suck in a deep breath, and the last words I heard Ripley say come rushing back to pummel me.
“Choose to be happy. With me. For real. Out in the open.”
It’s the last thing I remember, the last words to register.
I… fuck. I didn’t stop him. I let him leave; I let him walk out of my life.
Repeating the words back to myself, I feel the weight of each one.
Choose to be happy.
Is it that easy? Can I just choose to be happy?
He made it sound so simple. He laid it out as if it made sense. And maybe it does, or maybe it did.
Silent tears race one another down my cheeks, mourning the loss of him. The loss of us.
How did I let this happen? Again.
I know what it took for him to ask me to choose him, and instead, I broke his heart. For the third time.
I reach into my pocket for my phone, desperately trying to hold it together. With shaky hands, it falls from my grasp, crashing against the floor. The screen cracks, reflecting the state of my shattered heart.
Scooping it from the floor, I stumble backwards until I hit the wall and slide down, my ass meeting the hard, cold wood. I keep my knees drawn up to my chest as I wipe at my eyes, trying to clear my vision.
There’s only one person I can call. I scroll to her name then bring the phone to my ear, the ringing a welcome distraction.
“Seth?” she answers. “What happened?” In the background, there’s shuffling and soft music. It’s clear I’ve interrupted something, and I consider hanging up. “Seth, answer me, or I’ll be banging on your door in the next ten minutes.” Her tone is stern, no humor, no tough love, just fear.
“I—” I start, but my voice cracks as I do my best to hold in the sob begging for release.
“I fucked up.” I don’t sound like myself.
I sound demolished, like someone cut me into pieces and hid them so well, I’ll never be able to find them, never be whole again.
I feel it too. Ripley pocketed a few, walked away with pieces of my soul—giant, irreplaceable pieces.
“What? What do you mean? Fucked up how? Are you okay?”
There’s more background noise, other voices around her. It’s so quiet in my apartment, I still hear her when she covers the microphone and excuses herself with a whisper.
“He left.” It’s all I can say.
“Ripley?”
I make some kind of choked noise barely resembling the “yes” I mean to say. It ends up sounding more like a choked sob as I rein in my anguish.
“What happened?” she asks, her tone softer, gentler.
All the noise around her ceases, and I break.
“He umm—” I pull the phone away from my ear and wipe a hand down my face, but the tears won’t stop.
I take a breath as I bring the phone back.
“He asked me to try to be happy. With him. He basically begged me, and I—fuck. I couldn’t do it, Iris.
I froze. Dinner was fucking horrible, my father was worse than usual.
And he saw it. He saw it all, even stood up to him, and I couldn’t say anything. I just let him leave.”
I’m my own roadblock. I had the opportunity to live my life with the most amazing man I’ve ever met, to be loved by him, and I couldn’t let myself have it.
“Why do I keep doing this?” I ask her, knowing neither of us has an answer. Maybe Ripley was right, maybe it’s abuse. Maybe I was programmed to see love as a threat, to see acceptance as a barrier. Maybe I’m more broken than I realized, and he deserves better.
“Oh, Sethy,” she coos. “I really don’t know, but…” she trails off and pauses for a moment, and I hang onto her words like a lifeline hoping she’ll have some kind of miracle fix. “I know what you should be doing,” she finishes, sparking hope in me for some semblance of direction.
“What?”
“Get in your car, and go after him!” she says, her voice building with each word.
“Iris, I—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “No excuses. Catch him! Before he leaves and you lose your last chance. Just tell him you want to be with him, let yourself be happy.”
Choose to be happy.
“And Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck your family.”
I don’t know why hearing it from her hits differently. I don’t know why it feels like the permission I need to move from the spot I’ve trapped myself in.
“Okay,” I say resolutely.
“Okay…?” She expected me to push back, to give her an excuse or a reason why I can’t do exactly what she’s telling me to do, but all I feel is relief.
I push up to my feet, nodding my head as I say, “Okay. Yeah. I’m going to go get him.”
I only live roughly twenty minutes from the airport, so there’s a chance he got lucky with a flight and has already boarded a plane to leave Seattle. “Shit. I have to go.”
“Yeah, of course, let me know how it goes!”
I’m balancing the phone between my shoulder and my cheek as I scramble to put my shoes on. “For sure,” I tell her, hopping on one foot as I pull my shoe onto my other. “Hey, Iris?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
On a normal day, I’d be pleased with the drive to SeaTac.
I’ve barely hit any traffic, but the clock on the screen mocks me with every passing second.
The later it gets, the less hope I have of this working out.
I didn’t waste time looking to see if there were any flights heading out to anywhere in South Carolina tonight; it wasn’t worth it.
I look up from the dash just in time to realize Exit 154B is much closer than I thought.
It’s reckless, but I have to cut someone off on I-5 to merge over in time.
Their horn blares as I swerve in front of them just barely missing their car.
I don’t have the time to feel bad about it, but my heart rate spikes as I merge through the next two lanes without issue.
Even a near-death experience can’t keep me away from him now.
I take the exit, glancing over at the clock again: 10:55 p.m. I’m almost there.
“Please be there, baby, please,” I murmur to myself as I impatiently tap my fingers on the wheel.
I’ve never hated time as much as I do now.
Finally, I’m close enough that relief starts to bloom in the pit on my stomach.
I’m almost there.
I turn into the airport, my one-track-mind bypassing every sign until I reach the departures lane, realizing too late that I should have parked in one of the lots.
Fuck it.
As another car pulls away, a spot opens next to the curb. I pull into it, knowing this won’t end well, I just don’t care. I slam the car into park, turn off the ignition, and throw my door open.
As I rush away from the car, an attendant yells, “Sir, this is a no parking lane!” I keep running, ignoring all the potential distractions.
I’m choosing Ripley.
I’m choosing us.
If that means my car gets towed, so be it. I can deal with it later.