Chapter 10 #2
“Okay. Let’s say I believe you.” Carson scrunched his forehead in thought. “That there’s some kind of mystical—”
“Magical,” the Major corrected.
“Right. Magical Soul Mate Thread binding us together. Why?”
“Because you’re soul mates.” The Major’s implied duh filled the room.
Liz stopped trying to find the invisible thread. Because she couldn’t. Because it didn’t exist. “We’re not.”
“Oh, but you are. I just need you to realize it.” The Major leaned back in his chair again as he studied them both.
Carson snorted. “Good luck with that.”
The Major brightened. “Thanks.”
“No, I wasn’t—” Carson shook his head. “Never mind.”
“As I was saying,” the Major continued, “the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference! And you two clearly are not indifferent to each other. In conclusion, ipso facto, you must be in love.”
Wow. Liz didn’t know where to begin. Not only did this ghost-hallucination have horrible taste in TV, but he was also delusional. She wasn’t sure he used ipso facto correctly, either.
“Plus the whole thread thing,” Carson added.
“Yes!” The Major exclaimed.
“Why are you helping him?” Liz hissed at Carson. Seriously. What the hell was wrong with him? Although as soon as Liz posed the theoretical question, she had more than enough theoretical answers.
The Major leaned forward, his translucent pen held over his ghostly pad of paper once again as if eager to take notes. “So. When was it that you knew you’d fallen in love?” His gaze pinballed expectantly between Liz and Carson.
Despite the fact Liz didn’t want to think about those times, her mind went there anyway. Back to when she thought they had something. To when she thought love was real.
In her mind, there was no one moment. No specific point in time when she thought she’d fallen in love with Carson.
It had been more like a general feeling of coming home.
Of being with someone who totally got her.
Who made her feel safe. Made her feel like her best self.
Like she was the most amazing person in the world.
Until he’d shown his true self and shattered her illusions. Shown her how na?ve and wrong she was.
All these years later, and the humiliation still burned bright. Still made her feel like she should have known better. Still brought a lump to her throat and squeezed her chest like an emotional boa constrictor.
Liz swallowed against the lump, tried to breathe through the squeeze. Remained silent so as not to give away how much it still affected her.
Carson, too, remained silent. The only sound was the squeak of his crutches as he shifted.
“Hmmm. Okay.” The Major narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips for a moment before his expression changed to one of clarity. “Ah. Then tell me when you knew you weren’t meant to be.”
Oh. Well. That, Liz could do.
And apparently, so could Carson.
Their words fell over each other as they poured out like an avalanche hellbent on making its way down a mountain.
“Nine years ago,” Liz spat. “When you didn’t care enough to return my call after my parents died!
” She bit out the last words, the anger bubbling over as she relived the moment.
“Nothing! Not even a text! Yes, we broke up that summer, but still! What the hell kind of person doesn’t acknowledge something like that?
We dated all through high school, for fuck’s sake!
We grew up together! Then you’re all, ‘I can’t do this anymore, Liz’ without so much as an explanation, which was bad enough, but then I hear nothing during the lowest point of my life! Who does that?”
Liz sucked in ragged breaths, the wounds she thought were at least partially healed now lying open again, fresh and bleeding.
Glancing at the Major, she was pleased to note that his expression was no longer one of eagerness.
He looked like he regretted opening the can of worms that was exploding all over the room.
Good. Served him right.
“—and if you didn’t care enough to tell me, then fine.” Carson’s knuckles whitened around the handle of his crutches. “I mean, sure, we were broken up, but that was fucking huge.”
Liz’s anger took a breath long enough for her to catch Carson’s last few words. Wait. “What did you just say?”
His eyes flashed then narrowed as he stared at her. “You didn’t care enough to tell me your parents died.”
What? Liar! “Yes, I did. I left a message. You never called back.” The remembered pain of the moment stole her breath. She’d barely been keeping it together. She thought surely he’d at least return her call. That although they weren’t dating anymore he would reach out to check on her.
But he hadn’t. She heard nothing. So she turned her pain into something productive. Something she could use. Anger. Determination. A coat of armor that shielded her from further betrayal and kept her insulated against ever hurting like that again.
Somehow she got through. Slowly. Painfully.
But she made it. She grew. Got stronger.
Became more careful. Made better choices.
Kept herself from making the same mistake.
Guarded her heart. Dated enough to be social and ease the various itches when they surfaced but never let anyone close enough to do damage.
She sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
“I never got a message,” Carson countered.
“You never called. Something as important as your parents.” His jaw clenched as his eyes bore into hers.
“For God’s sake, Liz, I heard about it from Uncle Arnold two months later.
Two months!” His jaw clenched as he stared at her.
“And while we’re at it, why don’t we go back to whose fault it was that we broke up in the first place. ”
“Yours!” she practically screeched.
Carson scoffed. “Hardly.”
Oh, that was rich. He really was delusional. “You’re the one who broke up with me!”
“Because you were cheating on me!”
“What?” Liz recoiled in horror. Or disbelief. Possibly both. “How can you say that? I wasn’t cheating on you! I would never cheat!” For fuck’s sake, she’d never even cheated on her homework. “How can you possibly think that?”
Carson’s lips thinned, and his gaze hardened. “Because I saw it!”