Chapter 43 Autumn
Autumn
To make the weekend at the Lakehouse worse, I didn’t hear from him at all. Not one time, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
As soon as I wake up in my bed, I call him again. It’s early on a Monday, but I am done waiting for responses. We are either happening or we aren’t, and today is the day he is going to give me an answer, whether I like it or not.
He answers, but once again, doesn’t sound like his once-happy self—someone who is excited to hear from me. I get straight to the point.
“Can I see you?”
He doesn’t respond right away.
“Please?” I whisper.
“Are you home?” is all he says.
“Yes,” I reply just as short.
“Give me two hours,” then he hangs up.
The quickness of the conversation fires up that gut feeling, but he’s coming here, which is better than a parking lot, so I ignore the alarms. But then he texts me when he gets here, instead of walking right in.
I text him back, telling him to come up, and a few moments later, he joins me on the couch.
I don’t bring up the reunion. He’s finally here, and I don’t want to push him away again. But I don’t know what to bring up. Why are we like this? What happened to the easiest friendship I’ve ever had? Why are we struggling with small talk?
“How was your weekend?” I ask. Asking it sounds as weird as it feels.
“Not quite as exciting as I hoped,” he says. He adjusts himself, and his hand lightly brushes my thigh.
The small talk is too painfully awkward, so I just reach up and give him a kiss.
I don’t know what I expect, but he kisses me back, and it’s like a flame hits gasoline.
I jump up and straddle his lap. His hands grasp my hips, then they’re in my shirt, and I feel their warmth on my back. I’ve missed these goosebumps.
I grab his shirt and lift it up over his head. He grabs mine and pulls it off next. His fingers are tangled in my hair while his lips press against my neck. I reach down to the button of his pants. Just as I get them undone, he grabs both of my hands.
“Stop. I can’t.”
I freeze, panting. “What?”
He leans his head back, resting it on the couch, and covers his face with his hands. “I mean, I can’t do this anymore, Autumn.”
I am still frozen. Lost and staring at him while he stares blankly at the ceiling. I get up and snatch my shirt off the couch.
“What is happening right now, Jimmy?” I demand, temporarily controlling the crack in my voice.
He leans forward, putting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
I throw the shirt at him, realizing I grabbed his anyway. “YOU’RE SORRY?” He doesn’t say anything while I start losing control. “For what? What are you actually sorry for? That it’s not a secret anymore? That it’s not fun for you anymore? Or are you actually sorry for lying to me this whole time?”
He’s still sitting calmly. “I’m sorry for all of it.”
His emotionless demeanor sets me off even more. “If you’re so sorry, then why are you even here? Why did you come here? And why did you just kiss me?”
He finally stands up and faces me. “I’m here because you deserve to hear what I have to say face to face, not over the phone.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. Every breath fills my lungs with fire.
My heart is beating in the most painful way.
A way that I’ve never felt before. It feels like it is going to pound right through my chest. Each beat vibrates through my whole body.
I fold my arms tightly across myself, as if that will protect me from what’s about to happen; what my gut has been trying to warn me of for weeks now.
“Hear what?” I whisper. My voice finally cracks.
He runs both hands through his hair. “That I want to make things work with my wife.”
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and biting my lip. “This is about the reunion, isn’t it? Does she even want to be with you?”
He looks down at the floor. “This isn’t about the reunion. It’s about my wife and what she deserves.”
My spiraling begins. In fact, I spiral more than I’ve ever spiraled before. I throw my hands up in the air and involuntarily do a 360-degree turn.
“What she deserves? And what about me, huh? What do I deserve? I know I am not an angel in this situation, but did I deserve for you to come and ruin my life? To screw my whole world up and turn me into something I’m not?”
“Of course not,” he says quietly.
“But screw me, right?” I yell. “Now you can go be the good guy. You can go make things right with her and convince everyone you’ve learned your lesson and can be the perfect husband.
And then there’s me. I’ll always be the bad guy because I was the other woman.
The stupid, stupid other woman. Getting away from you was the smartest thing I ever did. I should’ve stayed gone.”
He finally makes eye contact, and I see surprise in his eyes. Had he really not known that?
“Yeah. Because apparently, I was smarter then than I am now. I loved you...” I stop for a second and take a jagged breath, but it hurts even more. I can already feel the scars from the fire in my lungs. “SO much…”
Saying it out loud crushes me, and the tears are now uncontrollable.
My lips tremble as I finish. “I loved you SO much, Jimmy. But you. You would never admit that you loved me back. And I knew you were never going to, so I left. To save myself. To save myself from you breaking my heart just by being you.”
I laugh sarcastically and wipe my cheek. “And look at me now. All I did was prolong the process. I thought ten years later, and you being married, everything would be fine, and maybe I could even have my best friend back, but no. Because you’re still… You.”
I watch him stare at me while I pour my heart out, and it clicks that I am still just in my bra, so I grab my shirt and put it on. Once I pull it past my eyes, I see him coming closer, trying to hug me.
“NO!” I jump back and grit my teeth. “Don’t you dare.”
Now that he’s closer, I can’t avoid looking directly at his eyes. They are as red and wet as mine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look like this.
“I didn’t know that’s why you left.” He whispers and reaches for me again.
“I said DON’T. Get away from me. You don’t get to cry to me now because you were too dumb to figure it out all this time.
Why are you even crying? YOU did this. You made this choice.
Go home and do it. Maybe it is your turn.
I’m done after today. I can’t even look at you anymore.
Go crawl back to your wife and cry to her. ”
“Don’t say it like that.” His voice cracks, and he sniffles.
“I’ll say it however I damn well want to.
Because you know what I deserve? I deserve to react however I want to.
You deserve NOTHING from me. Or her, for that matter.
I actually hope she tells you to go to hell.
I hope you get to wallow in this mess you’ve made all alone and live with what you’ve done to all three of us.
It doesn’t feel good to cry, does it? But this is exactly what you deserve.
To feel just like we have. To live with the fact that you ruined your closest friend in the process of it all. ”
He continues to stare. I see an actual tear on his cheek, but something has finally changed, and I don’t care. The amount of anger piercing through me is overflowing, and continuing to ramble ten years of erased messages feels like a pressure release valve has been opened.
“And you know? I hope that bothers you most of all. All those times you joked about hating the guys I dated. All those times you cheered me up when some asshole did something stupid, or all the times you told me they didn’t deserve me? When all along it was YOU who didn’t deserve me.”
“Can I say something?” he whispers.
“I don’t care to be honest. Say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I roll my eyes.
“You’re right, you didn’t deserve any of this. Just know that I’ll never regret anything, except for right now. I don’t regret being with you, affair or not. And your friendship has meant the most to me out of anyone in my entire life.”
I shake my head and wipe my nose. “Yeah, I supposedly meant the most to you, yet you destroyed me. And you’ll miss me.
You’re going to miss me so deep into your core that each time you think of me, I hope it kills you a little bit.
I hope you miss me like I’m dead. Because guess what?
I am. That old me that you remember and ‘love so much?’ You killed her.
And you’re dead to me, too. I never want to see you again. ”
He stares at me. I grab his shirt and throw it at him again. “Go on.” He continues to stare as he pulls it over his head. Then just sits there and stares some more. I re-fold my arms. “Well? Go.”
He stands up and walks toward the door. I can’t look at him anymore. I don’t want to watch him leave. I feel my face swelling back up, so I turn in the other direction. I stare out the window and wait for him to be gone, but just as I hear the door open, he stops.
“Autumn.” He says with a shaky voice. My name on his lips feels like needles in my skin now. “It’s the right thing to do.”
I close my eyes. “The right thing to do, or what you actually want?” He doesn’t respond, and I wish I hadn’t just asked that question. Hot lava pours down both my cheeks. “Get out, Jimmy.”
It’s silent for a minute. “So this is it?” he asks.
I breathe in and reply as I exhale, “This is it. Don’t ever talk to me again.”
Ten excruciating seconds pass until I hear the door click shut. At the very same instant, I fall onto the couch and turn into a salty puddle that smells just like my favorite cologne.