Chapter 18 Marina #3
I love him so fucking much that at times it felt like my heart was big enough for the whole world to live in. I thought that love could save me, save him. I thought that love was the biggest most badass force in this universe, capable of doing the impossible.
I believed in love.
I believed in the impossible.
And most of all, I believed in him.
So I’m angry at myself because I messed everything up. I came on too strong. I should have kept my feelings to myself, because really, it was selfish on my behalf anyway. I told him I loved him because it made me feel better.
And now…I’ve never felt worse.
The pain has had me locked in my bedroom for days, sleeping and crying and screaming. I’ve been through a million boxes of tissue, their crumpled, soggy corpses littering the ground. My voice and chest are raw from bawling.
Sometimes Barbara will make the trek across the backyard and come get me or bring me tea.
Most times I’m alone.
It’s been a week since Laz left me with my shredded heart in my hands and I haven’t even told my dad or Margaret. I’m too ashamed. It’s embarrassing to tell someone you were dumped, even if it’s your family.
I did tell Naomi. But only yesterday.
Today, she’s sitting across from me at a café in Santa Monica and staring at me over her cup of coffee. She doesn’t look pleased.
This is why I waited so long to tell her. Because she saw this coming. She was right. And I should have listened to her instead of acting like a lovestruck teenager.
“Again,” I say slowly, taking out a jar of my own honey from my purse and spooning it out into my matcha latte, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
She watches my honey operation, brows raised, and then says, “I’m your friend, your best friend.
Especially now as Laz has been ousted from that spot.
I know I say things you don’t want to hear, I know I’ve been miserable lately.
But believe me, I want to know when these things happen.
I want to be that first person you call.
I call you. You’re my person, I should be yours. ”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven. Lord knows I was doing crazy shit when Robert…well, anyway. But Laz isn’t Robert.”
“No, he’s not.”
“And honestly, even though I gave you shit over him, I am still surprised this happened.”
I look up at her. “Really?”
“Marina…I don’t care what Laz told you but that boy, he loves you.”
“As a friend,” I say quietly.
“No. Not as a friend. He is in love with you.”
Please don’t say shit like that, not now. Please don’t give me hope.
“Naomi,” I say, my voice measured as I look her dead in the eye. “He told me he didn’t love me like I love him.”
“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “maybe that’s true.
Maybe your love scares him because it’s so big and joyful.
He’s not like you, Marina. You guys are very much opposites in some ways.
He’s dark and moody. You’re bright and sunshine.
Yes, you have darkness and yes he can be a goofball sometimes.
But it’s not hard to reason that you might approach love differently. ”
“What do you mean?”
“What I just said. You threw yourself at Laz. You slept with him, lost your god damn virginity, finally, and you launched yourself in that relationship. Heart open, not caring or even considering that you could get hurt. You wanted to love him freely because that’s how you do.
You’re giving and you’re generous, so why would falling in love be any different for you. ”
I chew on my lip, mulling it over. She’s right. There was nothing holding me back. Even when I was scared, I was at the mercy of my heart and my heart wanted him. Every single part of him.
I was a greedy girl after all.
“But Laz,” she goes on. “Laz keeps his cards close to his chest. He doesn’t let people in, even his friends, even his best friends.
He’s guarded and I’m sure with good reason.
He loves you, Marina, he’s in love with you.
It’s plain to see on his face, the way he fucking adores you.
Even Robert never looked at me that way but I looked that way at Robert and that’s how I recognize it.
But Laz loves you the way that Laz loves you.
Tentative. Scared. Unsure. It’s not going to be revealed all at once, it’s not going to hit him all at once.
He’ll come around.” She pauses and gives me a leveling look.
“The question is, will you be there when he does?”
I shake my head. “I don’t even want to think about this.
When someone tells you, several times, they don’t love you.
And they won’t even try. Someone with his track record on top of it, then I’m sorry, but I’m going to take their word.
Even if he is in love with me and doesn’t recognize the feeling, let’s say, he still told me he wasn’t.
He said the words when he didn’t have to.
That’s a big thing. It’s a horrible thing.
He knew it would crush me. Now I’m so far smashed into the ground, I’m not even sure if I’ll ever pick myself up. ”
She sighs. “You’re right. I don’t know why he had to tell you that.
And he did. So we can chalk it up to him being extremely immature for his age, for not knowing how to deal with relationships, with feelings.
We can chalk it up to a lot of things. But the most important thing is that you will pick yourself up again.
It just takes time. Let yourself feel this blow.
It’s going to hurt whether you run from it or not so just accept that for the next while, you are going to cry randomly throughout the day and want to put holes in the wall. It sucks but you will get through it.”
I know Naomi is right and that she’s just gone through it herself.
But still…I don’t know how to survive.
So many times I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and call Laz.
Text him.
Spy on him on Instagram.
I haven’t done any of that.
And I haven’t heard a word from him.
When he left…he really left. Like he was fleeing the scene of an accident and I was the flaming wreckage he had to escape. Didn’t look back once.
“He doesn’t even care,” I say bitterly. “He told me he didn’t love me, broke up with me and then moved on.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He hasn’t even called.”
“Would you want him to call?” she asks. “If he called you right now, would you even answer it?”
I shake my head. “No. There’s nothing to say to him.”
“Then I’m going to guess he knows that.”
“He could try…”
“He doesn’t even know what he wants. He might be too afraid to try. Maybe he’s trying to figure himself out first. Have you tried looking on his Instagram.”
“No,” I say quickly. “And I unfollowed him on Facebook.”
“I unfollowed him a long time ago,” she says with a wry smile.
“Naomi!”
She shrugs. “He was posting too many Bukowski quotes. I fucking hate Bukowski.”
“Yeah, Laz loves him,” I say, almost dreamily and for a split second I’m back in time. I’m thinking of us as still together.
The reality…
Tears fall from my eyes.
“Oh no,” Naomi says, getting out of her seat and putting her arms around my shoulders. “I didn’t think you were a Bukowski fan.”
“It’s not Bukowski,” I sob. “It’s Laz. I love him, Naomi, I really do. I still do. I miss him. I want him back…but I need him to love me first. I need him to want to love me.”
“Oh honey,” she says, reaching for a napkin and handing it to me so I can wipe my nose, dab beneath my eyes. I haven’t worn makeup in forever for this exact reason. “I know, I know. I wanted Robert to want to make it work. I wanted him to want to stop cheating. He never did.”
I’m full on sobbing now, tears falling onto her arms. People in the café are staring at me and I have half a mind to get up and demonstrate the waggle dance for them, just like I did on that date with David when I started choking on linguine.
Oh god. That’s what I have to look forward to now.
I’m going to have to go on dates again.
Dates with men that aren’t Laz.
How do I go on, how do I live knowing I can’t have him, won’t have him, that no other man will ever measure up?
I won’t.
I will just become an even crazier bee lady. A spinster. I’ll revirginize myself. Maybe Barbara and Naomi and I can all live together and have an even more bitter version of the Golden Girls.
For some reason, that makes me cry even more.
“We should get going,” I finally say, looking around the café.
“Why? Because you’re crying in front of these strangers? You’re human, Marina. People should know by now that life is hard.” She turns around and yells at everyone in the shop. “Life is hard!”
“Damn right!” someone yells back.
“Naomi,” I whisper, pulling her back around. “It’s okay.” I grab another napkin and blow my nose.
But it’s not okay.
And I don’t think I ever will be.