Chapter 50
Greta
It’s a habit now, walking across the gravel lot to him. Maybe because the moon is so high in the sky, the world seems to have stopped and my head is spinning and I can’t stop thinking about everything. I couldn’t keep my thoughts at bay, and that’s why I finally had to go out.
I haven’t seen him since he left me at home after that crazy night we went to the ice rink and watched the sun come up in the mall parking lot.
I tried to find excuses. I told him I was with Grandpa.
That I had to hang out with Olivia. That I needed to finish the final preparations for the trip.
And all that is true, but it’s also true that I’ve been avoiding him because I knew what would happen when we saw each other.
The very thing that’s about to happen now.
I knock on the door to the RV with an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. He opens up and I hold my breath. I could stay there forever, live in that warm, beautiful smile, but there’s still a conflict latent there, and one side of him has started to win, and that means I can’t ignore it any longer.
Will takes my hand and pulls me inside.
His fingers hold my chin as he kisses me, and for a moment, I forget why I’m there. I forget everything, and all that exists is his mouth and the whirlwind of emotions I feel when he’s close, and the world turns a bright, magical purple.
His tongue toys with my earlobe. “Never stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” I can barely speak.
“Showing up like this in the middle of the night.”
Suddenly, the spell breaks. There’s no dress, no glass slipper, and the carriage has turned back to a pumpkin.
I put my hands on his chest and push him back.
It’s a small gesture, but he realizes how much it means.
He steps back, and I see the pain cut through his face before he turns, once again, imperturbable.
For what seems like the first time, there’s an uncomfortable silence between us.
“What’s up, Greta?”
“I…” For days I’ve been trying to decide what to say to him, but now all the words have vanished. And I ache. I ache the way you ache when you get hit and it takes your breath away.
Will sighs and turns around, trying to defuse the tension, but the RV is so small, there’s no avoiding each other.
I take a breath and try to be brave. “I bought a plane ticket.”
“One,” he says.
“Yeah. Just one.”
“Okay. Fine.” He bites his lower lip and nods. Now his face is expressive again.
I want to hug him when I see him so vulnerable, but I know that would be a step back, and I’d be putting off something that has to happen. “I need to make this trip alone.”
“Sure. I get it. I’ll wait for you.”
“You don’t understand, Will.”
He stares into my eyes. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“I think so.”
“You think.”
“It’s not easy.” My eyes burn, and I try hard to maintain my composure. “But I knew it had to be this way when I asked you why you wanted to come with me on my trip and you said you wanted to make me happy.”
“How awful of me,” he replies sarcastically.
“It is. It’s awful toward you.”
“What the hell was I supposed to say?”
“That you wanted to make yourself happy.”
He shakes his head. “That’s idiotic. You want to throw away all we have over the way I phrased one thing?”
“No. I want to throw away what we have, so you’ll stop hiding behind me, come out of your shell, and live in reality.”
“I very much live in reality, Greta.”
I come close to him. He doesn’t move as I run the palm of his hand over my cheek, but I can feel the tension in his shoulders. His lips are pressed tightly together, and for a moment, all I want is to kiss them until they relax.
“I’m doing this because I love you.”
“Fuck, Greta. No. Not like this.”
He steps back. I know what he’s feeling. He can’t stand that the first and last time I’ve told him I love him has been at a sad, ugly moment like this. But it’s the truest thing I’m going to say today.
“It would be easy for me to pretend that everything’s fine and enjoy the trip with you, Will, and I could tell you to come to San Francisco next year and not think even for a second about what all this would mean for you.
But I can’t let you follow me because someday, maybe not now, but in a few months or a few years, you’ll realize you were just letting the current carry you along instead of swimming with it and that you were following my dreams because you didn’t know what your dreams were.
I don’t want you to choose me for the wrong reasons.
I want you to choose me without giving up yourself.
So yes, I am doing this because I love you, even if that’s the last thing you want to hear.
And I’m doing it for myself too, because I’m certain this is the only way we’ll have a chance. ”
Will hasn’t taken his green, burning, piercing eyes off mine.
I wish he’d say something that would change this situation.
You’re right, maybe. Or I promise I’ll try.
But no. He’s angry. It’s easy to get angry with the people who care about you because often, they’re the ones who tell you what you don’t want to hear.
“So that’s it,” he whispers.
I can hardly see through my tears. I’m terrified at not knowing whether this is an ellipsis or a period, but if I drag him along with me, we’re doomed to fail.
Because Will isn’t free. He’s got a huge stone bearing down on his back, and I can remind him of it, I can beg him to put it down, but in the end, he has to make the choice.
And it’s going to take effort. I know from experience.
Looking into yourself is far harder than looking into others, because when you open yourself up, you might accidentally touch a weak spot, damage a vital organ.
But if he never does it, this may well be the end. And if it is, if the tie that has bound us over these months is now breaking, I hate it, I hate that the last thing I’ll see of him is his scowl as he wishes I’d leave.
“Will… Just think it over.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again and shakes his head. “Did you drive here?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He turns, and my heart breaks in two when I see his worries for me still trump whatever he feels. He grabs some papers. “Here.”
He hands them to me. His handwriting is long and thin. It’s all I can do not to reach out and touch him again.
“What is this?”
“Some notes I was making for the trip, cool places to go, advice you could maybe use.”
When Will wipes my tears away, I realize I’m still crying. And he’s not mad anymore. I can see now he just cares.
“Go, Greta. It’s your time.”
“It could be yours too.”
“Could.”
The ensuing silence is filled with meaning. I walk to the door, open it, and look at him one last time. I remember what I thought the day I met him, and that purple melancholy that seemed to float around him is now so dense it’s impenetrable. I want to pull him out of it, but I can’t.
I hate that expression to break up with someone.
When I think of breaking, the first thing that occurs to me is a vase that falls to the ground and shatters.
When you break what you have with someone, you can’t go to the store and replace it; you can’t even bend over and pick up the pieces.
You’re left with memories, questions, the feeling of being torn away.
And, just like riding a bike, you have to learn to be alone again, and it’s hard not to fall over at first. Maybe that’s why I don’t say goodbye.
That, and the fact that I don’t want to.
I remember now how much I hate endings. I imagine us in a movie, and I wish I could rewind, to enjoy the conversations we shared, the flavor of cotton candy on his lips, me making a space for him on my windowsill, us swimming in the river…
But if it is a movie, the camera’s still rolling.