Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
E MILY
As I sit in my parked car, I rest my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. My hands are shaking so badly that I slide them under my thighs to still the tremors rocking through me.
Why did I agree to do this? Am I a glutton for punishment?
The six weeks since Charlie and I kissed have been so incredibly awkward. He’s made a million excuses to limit his time at Trina’s house and when I know he’s coming over, I avoid being home. I think we both wanted to avoid discussing what happened between us. But three nights ago, on New Year’s Eve, I couldn’t skip the party Trina threw. And Charlie had to come because it was a combination New Year’s Eve and birthday party for him, since his birthday is January first.
Three hours in, Charlie was two sheets to the wind, something I’ve never seen before.
Needing a minute away from all the partygoers, I sneak off to my bedroom. I startle and gasp when I open the door to find Charlie sitting on the floor in my room, his back against my closet door.
“Jesus, Charlie! You nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing in here?”
“Escaping.” He chuckles, but I can see in his glassy look that he’s overwhelmed. He lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I’m not big on crowds or being the center of attention. I tried to go to Trina’s room, but she’s a damn slob and I couldn’t relax in there. Sorry—I’ll go.”
He moves to stand, but something makes me want to stop him.
“No. Don’t go. We can both sit quietly and use the room.” Charlie relaxes back into his spot on my floor, and I plop down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling.
A few minutes later, he says, “Sunshine?”
“Yeah?” My voice is practically a whisper.
“You’ve been avoiding me since Thanksgiving. Tell me you don’t hate me.” It’s a plea. There’s a sadness in his voice I’ve not heard before, and I wonder if it’s always there, inside him, and the alcohol is freeing it from its sealed box Charlie usually keeps it carefully contained in.
“I don’t hate you. I was just… embarrassed. And a little hurt.”
“Hurt?” he whispers, his voice cracking.
I risk a glance over at him and see that he has tilted his head back against the closet door, his eyes closed. I divert my eyes back to the ceiling above me.
“Yeah, hurt. I get it, though. I’ve seen the women you spend time with and I’m not your type. And, even though it hurt my feelings, in retrospect, I appreciate you not letting it get more physical than it did if you weren’t into me.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes.
“Look at me, please.” His voice is quiet, almost pleading. I turn my gaze back to Charlie. His stare pierces me, and I swear he can see right into my soul with those damn eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. That’s why I stopped things that day. Believe me, no part of me wanted to stop. And I’m sorry if my explanation at the time sucked. I’m not great with words. I know this sounds so cliché, but please believe me when I tell you it’s not you, sunshine, it’s me.”
The sincerity seeping from his voice and lingering in his eyes is clear. And that’s when I accept that the crush of a young woman was just that—a crush—and if I want to keep him as my friend, I need to let it go.
Later that night, I responded to the two text messages I had received from Teddy in the prior few days—the first in months—asking to meet for coffee to “make amends.” As if he can make up for breaking my heart. But, after realizing my crush on Charlie could never turn into anything more, I decided I need to get rid of all the ghosts of the men in my past in order to move forward.
So, I agreed to meet Teddy. And today is the day.
Turning off my car, I grab my bag off the passenger seat and climb out. I shut the door, inhale deeply, determined to free my chest from the grip of anxiety about meeting Teddy, and I walk into the Meadow Creek Coffee shop. The comforting smell of coffee brewing fills my nostrils, and I try to focus on that, not on how nauseated I feel.
I spot him immediately, and when Teddy stands upon seeing me, I notice he looks thinner. A twinge of worry shoots through me, and I shove it back down, reminding myself he’s not mine to fret over anymore. As I approach, he hesitates, then moves in as if he’s going to hug me.
Stopping abruptly, I step back. “No.”
He simply nods at me, waits until I sit down, and takes a seat himself.
I say nothing, even when Teddy slides a drink across the tabletop to me.
“I got you one of those oat milk lattes you like. We’ve never been here so hopefully you like theirs.” I say nothing and he continues to ramble. “Thanks for meeting me. I get why you wanted to meet away from Elladine?—”
“Oh, do you?” The bitterness in my voice is clear and I hate it. Not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because it’s not who I am and not who I want to be.
Teddy looks up at me, sheepishly. “I think so. I’m guessing… I’m guessing you didn’t want anyone to see us together. You’re probably embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“Bingo. I’m embarrassed because I shouldn’t even be giving you a chance to talk to me. Not after what you did. And the people who love me would have told me not to meet you. But I’m not going to let you haunt me. So, this is for me, not for you.”
He closes his eyes briefly and nods. “Fair enough.”
I sigh. Shit, I sound so angry and acidic. I look down at the butcher-block table.
I focus on softening my tone. “Sorry. I want you to have closure, too. Can we just get on with it?”
“Yeah. Sure. And you have nothing to be sorry about. I deserve all of that.”
Teddy clears his throat and puts his fist over his mouth, closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again and peers right at me. When he lowers his fist from his face, he clutches his coffee mug, as if it can give him strength.
“There is no excuse for what I did. None. And I will regret it until the day I die. But I want to tell you some things I’ve learned recently. After… after you broke up with me, I got really low, lower than I’ve ever been?—”
“That’s not my fault, Teddy.”
He puts up his hand, palm facing toward me, to stop me. “I know, Em. I promise, I know.” He runs a tremulous hand through his hair. “When it happened, I missed a few days of work, but Jack was checking on me. He said you had messaged him about what happened so, thank you for that. You didn’t owe me that much, for sure. Anyway, he took me to the ER, worried about my state of mind. They did a bunch of blood work and tests to make sure nothing was physically wrong with me. And they discharged me with a follow-up appointment that I had to promise to keep. With a psychiatrist.”
Teddy pauses, taking a sip of his coffee, so I take one of my latte, feeling my anger dissipate slightly and wanting to look at something other than him for a second.
“So, I had an appointment scheduled but some things happened, and I missed it. But eventually I got seen by the doctor. Long story short, I received a diagnosis in October that was really hard to hear, but explained a lot about me and why… why I am the way I am.”
I look up at him, but he’s staring at his hands. Shit, I may be furious at him, but I don’t want him to be sick.
“What kind of diagnosis?”
When Teddy looks back up at me, his eyes are misty, his features turned downward.
“I have bipolar disorder. Type One.” He hesitates, scrubbing his hands down his face. “H-have you heard of it?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it except it’s depression. Is that right?”
“Sort of, yes. But think of it like extremes. Mine causes periods of mania, which seem to make me euphoric and impulsive and prone to making poor decisions, followed by severe depressive episodes.”
A server stops at our table to top off Teddy’s coffee, and he gives her a small smile and thanks her. I wait until she leaves to speak.
“Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that, Teddy.” I hesitate, not sure if I should say what I’m thinking next, but I decide to be honest. “It does kind of make sense, though, thinking back through the years, doesn’t it?”
He frowns and nods his head. “Yeah, unfortunately. I was in denial when I first got the diagnosis, convinced it must be wrong. But it’s not.” He takes another sip of his coffee, then clears his throat. “When I finally accepted it, with a lot of support from Jack, I started on meds and counseling and I’m doing a lot better. I have a long way to go in counseling, but the meds are helping a lot to regulate my moods.” He pauses and looks down at his hands, which are shaking a little.
I sit quietly, sensing he needs a moment.
Eventually, he takes a deep breath and then looks up at me again. “So, I’m not telling you all of this to get you to forgive me, but it was important to me you know because…”
I wait, giving him a chance to finish. When it appears he isn’t going to, or can’t, I ask him, “Why, Teddy?”
“Because I need you to know that nothing that was ever wrong in our relationship was about you. Ever. It’s all on me. All of it. And you need to know that because, though you tell yourself differently, I know deep down you feel you’re not worthy of love because your parents withheld it. And I loved you. Fuck, I still love you and I think I always will. But, even knowing the pain your parents caused you, I still didn’t manage to love you like you deserve. And that’s not a you issue. It’s an us issue—me and your parents. Trina and Shayna are the only ones who love you like you should be loved. And I’m so damn sorry that I failed at that, shitty diagnosis or not.”
I can’t speak. Only able to stare down into my drink, as I sniffle and wipe furiously at the hot tears streaming down my face. We sit in silence for several minutes.
Teddy doesn’t comfort me, and I’m grateful for it. He’s lost that privilege.
After what seems like ages, but is really only likely a few minutes, I stop crying and just want to go home, crawl into bed, and read a sad book so I can cry at something other than my pain.
“Thank you for coming here today and sharing this. I know it wasn’t easy. And I’m really sorry about your diagnosis, but I’m glad you’re getting help.”
He doesn’t respond, but nods at me.
I reach for my bag and stand.
“Bye, Em. Thanks for hearing me out.” His eyes are downcast, and he wears a hint of a frown.
“Goodbye, Teddy.”
I turn and walk toward the door, but I only make it about six feet when I stop. I stand with my back to him for several seconds, my eyes closed, before turning back around to face him. When I do, his eyes are wide, hopeful almost. I feel a twinge of sadness for him, because I will not say what I think he wants. No. He and I are still over.
“Teddy, we have a lot of the same friends. And we both need our friends right now. So, don’t feel you have to stay away from things we’d both normally go to for my sake. We may not be together anymore, and I can’t promise we can be friends again, but we don’t have to be enemies. Okay?”
The hope fades from his face at my words. But it’s all I can offer him.
He gives me a sad smile.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I simply nod, then turn and walk away.