30 Zara
Reckoning Day
Okay, Zara. You said seven days. You did this. It’s day seven now. So grow a fucking pair and knock on his goddamn door.
I tell myself these things, but I’m still standing here staring at his door, not moving. After a long breath in which I gather my damn courage, I knock twice because the first one comes out too soft, and I refuse to start this fight with a sad little tap.
There’s movement inside as I hear footsteps cross the room. Then the door opens, and Cass is there in a dark hoodie and sweatpants. His hair is a mess, his eyes tired enough to makes my chest ache before I can stop it.
“Zae,” he says.
My name sounds rough in his mouth, and that almost gets me, which is irritating because I have not even made it inside yet.
I lift my chin. “Move.”
His hand tightens on the door. “What?”
I stare at him, which gets him to shut his mouth.
“Move, Cass.”
This time, he steps back. I walk past him into the room and don’t let myself look at the picture of us still sitting by his laptop.
“You had your space,” I say.
His shoulders tense. “I know.”
“Did it help?”
He doesn’t answer fast enough.
I turn to face him fully. “Cass.”
“No.”
“No, it didn’t help, or no, you don’t want to answer?”
His jaw shifts. “Both.”
“Good. We’re already being honest. That’s some growth.
” I sigh, easing up as best I can for a second.
“Look, I’m not here to repeat myself. I already told you I wasn’t accepting this, and I meant it.
I’m not here to ask if you still love me.
I know you do. I’m not here to ask if leaving hurt you too.
I know it did. That’s what makes the whole thing worse. ”
His eyes stay on mine as he asks, “Me loving you makes it worse?”
“No. You using love as your reason to leave makes it worse.”
“I didn’t leave because I wanted to,” he argues, but he doesn’t take a step forward like I thought he would.
“I know that.”
“I didn’t do it to punish you.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why are you saying it that way?” he asks, his brows pulling together tighter than his ass cheeks.
“Because you still did it.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, but I’m not taking it back.
“You came into my room, told me you loved me, told me I deserved better, and left me standing there with all this pain I didn’t ask for.
You keep wanting your reasons to make that feel better, but they don’t. ”
His hands flex once. “I thought it was the only thing I could do.”
“That’s the problem. You thought. You decided. You walked in there with your mind made up before I even knew there was a problem.”
“What happened at the skatepark matters,” he utters, like it’s engraved into the commandments themselves.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you do.”
My eyebrows lift. “Excuse me?”
“You keep acting like it was one bad second.”
“It was one bad second.”
“One bad second where I almost hit you.”
“And ten thousand good ones where you didn’t.” I step closer.
His face hardens. “That’s not how it works.”
“You keep telling me what almost happened as if I wasn’t there,” I continue anyway.
“I know your arm came too close. I know I had to duck. I know I was bleeding. I know it scared you. I know it should have scared you. But I also know what happened after. You stopped. You cared. You hated yourself so much I could see it on your face, and then you kept going to group, Cass. You didn’t pretend it was fine. ”
His throat moves. “You think that erases it?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m saying you don’t get to take the worst second of that moment and make it the only thing you remember or think about.
“You held me after my night terror when I couldn’t breathe right. You didn’t make me feel stupid for it. You kept trying to erase the words that eat away at me.”
“Zae.”
“No, listen.” I hold up a hand, trying my best to keep my voice steady.
“You love me well. That is what I’m saying.
I’m not saying you save me. I’m not saying you fix me.
I’m saying you love me in ways I appreciate, and then you took that from me and told yourself it was for the better. That it was for me.
“My dad called this week,” I continue, because I might as well lay it all out for him. “No. Don’t switch into worried Cass yet. I’m not done being mad.
“My mom’s facility is doing family therapy over Thanksgiving break. Her therapist suggested I come. My mom agreed, which is not the same as asking for me, in case you were wondering. My dad called to tell me, and it went about as well as you’d expect, which means not well at all.”
“Are you okay?”
I stare at him again.
He winces before he softly says, “Sorry.”
“I wanted to call you,” I admit, and that shuts the rest of his words down. “I had your contact open. I stared at that stupid picture of you glaring at the gas pump, and I wanted to hear your voice so badly I almost hit call without thinking.
“I wanted you mad for me. I wanted you to tell me to sit down and breathe. I wanted you to tell me I’m not the burden my mother made me feel like. I wanted you to make the room feel smaller and safer because you’re good at that.
“I didn’t call. Not because I don’t love you. Not because I don’t need people. I need people. I need Riley. I need Mama Lori. I need you more than I know what to do with half the time. But I needed to prove to myself I could handle it without you.
“So when I say I want you, I mean I want you,” I continue. “I want you because you’re Cass. Because you’re grumpy and bossy and weirdly hot when you’re annoyed. Because you love your mom. Because you remember my jokes. Because you look at me when I’m a mess and don’t act like I’m hard to love.
“I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to be all of that for you. Why do you get to hold me through my worst nights but I don’t get to stand with you through yours? Why do you get to love me in the ugly parts, but the second your monster shows up, you shove me out?”
“Because my shit can hurt you.”
“So can mine.”
“Not in the same way, Zae, and you know that.”
“No, but I can still hurt people.” I step closer again.
“I can cut with words. I can disappear into my head. I can make everything about proving I’m not too much.
I can push too hard and joke when I should shut up and act fine until I’m absolutely not fine.
You don’t leave because of that. You stay and help me. ”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not afraid you’re going to put me through a wall.”
“Do you want to put me through a wall?” I manage.
His head snaps back to me, offended. “No.”
“Have you ever wanted to?”
“No.”
“Then don’t talk about yourself as if it’s an eventuality if I stay with you.”
His eyes flash. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It is. You’re talking about yourself as if you’re one bad day away from becoming your dad.”
He turns away, eyes darting toward the wall.
“No,” I say. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Lock up.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. I know your face.”
His laugh is short and hard. “Yeah, you know everything.”
“No, but I know you.”
“That’s the problem.” His voice rises, and finally, finally, there’s heat in it. “You know the parts I let you know. You know the version of me that wants to do better. You don’t know what I’m going to be in five years. Ten. You don’t know what happens if I get worse.”
“And you do?” I throw out. “You don’t get to punish us because Future Cass might be an asshole.”
“Zae.”
“No, I am serious.” My voice gets louder now too. “You are making decisions based on some version of you that doesn’t even exist. You are so scared you might become him that you’re letting it make choices for you now.”
He points at me, sharp, then drops his hand halfway through the movement.
“See?” he says, voice rough. “That. That right there.”
“You stopped.”
“I shouldn’t have moved that way at all.”
“But you stopped.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It’s something.”
“It’s not enough,” he snaps, and there it is. The volume. The frustration. The thing he’s been swallowing all week. “You keep doing that. You keep finding the good part and holding on to it as if it cancels out the bad.”
“I’m not canceling anything out.”
“Yes, you are. You think if you love me hard enough, if you argue well enough, if you make enough points, it all becomes manageable.”
“And you think if you hate yourself hard enough, nobody gets hurt? That’s what this is,” I tell him. “You think hurting yourself counts as protecting me.”
“I left so you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“You left and I got hurt anyway.”
“I know,” he says.
“No, I don’t think you do.” I hate how badly my voice shakes now. “I don’t think you understand what it did to me when you stepped back. I reached for you, and you stepped back as if my touch was something you couldn’t stand.
“I know you were trying not to cave. I know you were trying to leave because you thought staying was selfish. I know all your reasons, Cass. I’ve been sitting with them all week. But my body doesn’t care about your reasons. My body remembers you stepping away.
“Open your eyes,” I tell him, and he does.
Mine are wet now, which is annoying because I wanted to get through at least half of this fight without crying. Whatever. I’m still standing, so it counts.
“You're not some caged monster waiting to be set free, and you’re certainly not your dad.”
“My mom said that.”
“Good. She’s right.” I step closer, making sure he can’t turn away from this. “I’m saying something you need to hear from me. I am not going to stay with someone who destroys me because I’m afraid of being alone. I’m staying because I love you and you deserve to be loved.
“If you stop doing the work, I will call you out on it,” I continue. “If you ever make me feel afraid, I will leave. I’ll cry. I’ll hate it. Riley will probably have to force feed me again, and I’ll be annoying about it for weeks, but I will leave.”
His voice is almost gone. “You mean that?”