Chapter 19 #3
An hour later, they pulled out of the Whitakers’ driveway without speaking.
When Simone glanced at Ryan from the driver’s seat, his jaw was clenched, and his gray-green eyes were staring straight ahead, yet oddly unfocused.
She finally worked up the courage to say something.
“Sorry my mom was asking such personal questions.” God, she was acting exactly like her father.
Ryan didn’t respond right away. Simone swore she could hear her heartbeat in the charged silence. When he finally did open his mouth, his voice was eerily quiet. “Your mom wasn’t the problem, Simone.”
“Seriously? She was being so nosy! Also, that stuff she said about me being straight now, just because—”
Ryan cut Simone off with a deep breath and a sharp exhale.
“Simone, I don’t care that your mom is totally ignorant.
I mean, I do care, obviously—those things are bad—but they just don’t faze me anymore.
Growing up, I was the kid with lesbian moms; it’s not news to me that the world is full of people who make offensive comments and ask inappropriate questions.
I know how to deal with that shit. But what I can’t deal with is my own girlfriend not having my fucking back.
I was sitting there, defending you—calling out your mom on her performative ally bullshit—and then you make this big announcement that I have two queer moms. And you say it like my parents are some kind of currency you can use to show your mom that you are still queer, even though you brought home a boyfriend. ”
By the time Ryan stopped to breathe, the blood had fully drained from Simone’s face. She was ashamed because he was right: That was exactly why she’d blurted out that information. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. What else was there to say?
Ryan scoffed.
“You don’t believe me?”
He shrugged. “I mean, you said you were sorry at Seth’s party, too. You can only leave me stranded so many times…”
… before I stop trusting you, Simone finished in her head. She hated herself for disappointing Ryan; hated herself for disappointing her mother; hated herself for failing to find a version of Simone Whitaker that made everyone happy. “I don’t know what else to say,” she said, her voice wavering.
“I’m not just looking for you to say something, Simone. I want to feel like we’re actually on the same team here—not like I’m some baggage you’re ashamed of hauling around.”
“I’m not ashamed of you,” she said defensively, but even to her ears the words sounded hollow. Hadn’t she been ashamed when those strangers had ridiculed her for kissing Ryan? When they’d shown up at Seth’s party? When her mother had put it together that she wasn’t dating a woman?
“Well, it definitely feels that way,” Ryan muttered.
Simone groaned. At this point, she would take being straight if it meant she could just exist peacefully in this relationship.
“Ryan, I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m so used to feeling either too queer or not queer enough, and I have no idea how to just exist normally as a bisexual human.
And it’s even harder to figure it out when I’m also navigating a brand-new relationship. ”
When Ryan didn’t respond, she turned her head and found him pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“Ryan?”
When he finally spoke, his voice was thicker, raspier—like he was on the verge of tears. “Simone, I need you to listen to me.”
“I am listening.”
“I need you to be honest with me if you don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This relationship.”
“Wait, Ryan, that’s not what I said at all. I do want this. I’m just saying it’s a lot to get used to at once. I’m sure I’ll be way more settled a year from now, when—”
“A year from now?”
Her pulse shot up. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it’ll only be a few more months…?”
“I can’t wait that long to find out if my girlfriend really wants to be with me or not.” Ryan pushed his hands into his hair and made fists around his curls. They lapsed into silence as they made their way downtown.
She pulled into her parking space underneath her building and turned off the ignition.
In the passenger seat, Ryan unbuckled his seat belt but made no other moves to get out of the car.
Simone did the same. They sat there in the chilly parking garage, staring through the windshield at the white cinder block wall, until Simone worked up the courage to ask her next question. “Well, what are we supposed to do now?”
Ryan let out the longest, saddest sigh she’d ever heard. “I don’t know,” he replied in a low, defeated voice. Like his entire soul had gone flat. “At this point, I think I might need a break.”
“We can talk more later,” she offered. “Let’s go upstairs and—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What do you mean?”
Ryan paused, then said slowly: “I don’t just mean a break from this conversation.”
Simone was confused. Then, when she realized what he was saying, a lump rose in her throat. Her voice was thin and strangled. “You think we should break up?” Just saying it out loud brought tears to her eyes.
“For a bit,” he answered in that same defeated tone. “So that we can both decide if this is really what we want.”
A hot tear trickled down Simone’s cheek. She hated the thought of being away from him. At the same time, maybe he had a point. Maybe they both needed to do some soul-searching if they wanted to give their relationship a fair shot. “Okay,” Simone whispered. “How long?”
“Two weeks?”
She nodded despondently, barely able to process what was happening: that she and Ryan would be broken up for the next fourteen days, and somehow, in that time, she was supposed to find answers to impossible questions.
Two weeks was an eternity and no time at all.
“Do you want me to drive you home?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Simone couldn’t bear to leave on such sad terms. “Are we allowed to hug goodbye?” she asked, sniffling.
At that, Ryan softened. “C’mere.”
Simone dove across the center console and buried her face in his massive shoulder.
She cried into the fabric of his Carhartt jacket while Ryan rubbed her back in slow circles.
After a minute or so, Ryan’s hand stopped moving, and Simone pulled back and wiped her eyes.
They both climbed out of the old Volvo. With a heavy heart, Simone watched as Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged up the ramp to the street.