Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
T wo days of power outages postponed too many indoor soccer games and wrecked my paycheck. No games, no ref. No ref, no money, and I really wanted that TV like the one I bought at Stanford and had to leave behind. There’s always the diamonds. I’ve never wanted to dig through Mei’s girl supplies so bad. But then again…how am I gonna haul a TV back to Stanford with us when the day finally comes? Hopefully. Five months and counting. Still no reports of Nick rotting in jail.
I walk past a guy about my age sitting on a bench, soaking in the weak sun rays as he studies and devours a Little Debbie. I’m starving, and the Little Debbie makes my stomach rumble, but I almost falter in my steps when my eyes land on the guy’s chemistry textbook; it’s been months since I’ve touched a textbook. Been too busy studying Mei, and she’s definitely my favorite subject, so I’m not complaining or anything. But still…I miss it. Miss a life that slipped through my fingers because of some loser we can’t shake. If Nick didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be walking down this random street in the middle of nowhere Indiana hoping he gets locked up or shot soon so I can make it back to California in time. If Nick no longer existed, I’d be running the field, going to class, and then going home every night to study chemistry and Mei. We could’ve had everything. We had it all. I might be able to get it back, but my motivation has been wearing down with every passing week.
My legs are heavy and my head throbs with loss and resentment that always stirs during this walk home, unsettled by students and progress and futures. Brutal reminders of this wasted time. But every time I walk through our door, I remind myself that Mei’s way more than enough, and I have to be enough for her, too. From the moment I met her, I couldn’t stay away, so now…here we are, but at least we’re together.
I swing open the apartment door, close it behind me, and drop my keys on the counter. Charlie jumps up to greet me then flops to his side, begging me for a belly rub. I give in like I do every day, and his purr vibrates the countertop. I catch sight of Mei lying on the couch in the fetal position and abandon the belly rub. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing home? Weren’t you scheduled for this afternoon?”
“Not feeling well.”
“Ooh …” I hate seeing her like this but don’t wanna get too close; can’t afford to get sick right now, even though she would never act like this if I were the one not feeling well. She once spent three hours pulling cactus needles out of my butt in Vegas after I’d basically fallen asleep on my feet during a hike and slid through a cactus patch.
“Stomach virus? Or was it my bad attempt at Mexican last night?”
She sits up, and her face is blotchy, eyes swollen. “Not sure.”
“What happened?” I kick off my shoes and go sit beside her, but she stands and walks toward the kitchen table. I visually follow her as she picks up a piece of paper and holds it up. My eyes skitter across it. I freeze.
“Want to tell me now why we left Vegas?” Her tone is cold, sharp, and I’m suddenly achy, like I’ve fallen in a cactus patch all over again. This time, though, I’m wide awake, my brain flicking through the series of events that led her to finding the note. She sent me a picture earlier of the sketches I’d drawn in my books. I didn’t even think about what else was in them. Now I’m gonna puke. I’d prefer that to talking about the note in her hand.
Instead, I vomit words. “I was working, and I found that note on the valet desk. I freaked.” I shake my head, swallowing as I relive the moment. “Stole a car, called you to make sure you were okay. Then I went to our apartment. The whole place was trashed. Like Nick, or whoever, was looking for something. You? Me? I don’t know. Didn’t know what to do, so I packed our stuff and picked you up, and now we’re here. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t have handled the look in your eyes. Maybe it was selfish, yeah, but I wanted to protect you from it.” My chest relaxes, like pulling out the words created new space where I can breathe again.
“So you lied.” The accusation barely makes it out of her, like she’s afraid of it.
My eyes snap to hers. “Mei, I?—”
“Even when I begged to know the truth, you lied. There was never an immigration officer.” Her voice is louder, fury seeping into it. “I knew…I knew it was something else.” She clutches her stomach, breathing hard and staring at the floor before darting to the bathroom.
I jump up and follow her, but she closes the door, locks it. “It was the third time, Mei. The third time that loser stole our lives.” Feelings and information I’ve pushed down rise, and my chest is full again. I want the extra space back.
The toilet flushes on the other side of the door, and I wait, pressure building. I’m tired of feeling bloated with things I never wanted and things I’ll never tell her and things I don’t understand, like why Nick won’t give it up. Why she lets him shove fear down our throats and acts like it’s just the way things have to be. I hate thinking it, but I’ve wondered if there’s more to the story she’s not telling me. Her accusations erupt in me like fire as I talk through the door. “I had everything, Mei—a dad, a scholarship, a life I wanted. I had it all, and Nick took it, and you were never going to stop him, so I made the choice not to tell you. Because I’ve never understood the whole Nick thing with you and never will unless there’s more to that story. Is there?”
I close my eyes, my back against the wall. I know I’m being a jerk; she was going to find out eventually, and now she knows. And on top of it, she doesn’t feel well but neither do I. It’s getting harder to drag up anything but tired, stifled resentment. And there’s more that I haven’t told her. Like Dad’s ultimatum at Stanford. That I’m still enrolled there, and I plan on keeping it that way.
The toilet flushes again, the faucet runs, and then Mei’s voice splits the tension from inside the bathroom. “I know. You had it all. But I lost things, too. There are things I miss, and I’m sorry you miss your dad, but?—”
“Should I not miss him?”
The door opens, and she leans back against the counter. “Of course you should.”
“Yeah, well that’s good because I do. I miss it all.”
“Marcus, I get it. I miss things, too. You’re not the only one who gave up a life and hopes and dreams.”
“There’s a difference between us, and you know it.” I throw my arms out and walk to the window, my back to Mei.
But silence is the only response to my outburst. And it makes me angrier. I rub my forehead where loud, obnoxious thoughts crowd my mind. But they’re right—it could’ve all been so different. It could have been so, so ? —
I swear. Loudly. But it feels too good coming out that I say it again, louder, slamming my palm into the wall. Anger oozes from me, and if I don’t direct it at something inanimate, I’ll hurl it at Mei again.
“Marcus…”
I whirl around. “No—don’t.” I don’t want her to calm me down. I want to rage; I’ve been talking myself down and controlling my irritation for too long, and it’s too big now. She pretends the past never happened, but I can’t. This is my chance to empty myself of all the negative, heavy feelings I’ve dragged around and added to every time we’ve had to start over.
“Things didn’t have to be like this, but here we are, hiding out in some random town so the Chinese mafia won’t find us, pretending they don’t exist. We never talk about it. You don’t talk about it, or what Nick did to you, or anything that happened before us. And I know it’s all in there.” My body’s rigid, the heat from my rage scorching my throat as it comes out from deep inside. “Why is he following us? Did he threaten you? Did he warn you? We have to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t. And I don’t know why he’s following us. If I did, I would’ve stopped him long ago.”
“There’s a reason. There’s gotta be a reason. He’s not just doing it for fun. What did he do to you? And why will you never talk to me about any of it?”
“Because there’s no point. Whatever he did is in the past, and I’ve moved on, but you’re stuck in the past. Like you never left Stanford. Maybe even San Francisco.”
Words push against my chest, fill my mouth, blur my vision. I did leave myself at Stanford, and I’ll be back. I’m not doing this life forever. “Our life could’ve been totally different right now.”
“So what you’re saying is…all of this is my fault.” She steps out of the bathroom toward me. “Because I won’t talk about all the bad things that happened in my life before I even knew you. Because I don’t want to give the past air to breathe, because if I do, it might come back to life. And you’re mad about it because your life doesn’t look exactly like you want it to. Or maybe you’re mad because you chose to come with me and don’t want to take the blame for that.”
I close my eyes. It’s easier to be angry when I can’t see her, but it’s still red hot against my closed eyelids, and it has nowhere else to go. But then she steps in front of me, and I open my eyes to hers. They’re sad. Hurt. Betrayed. And my anger deflates, slumps inside me and solidifies like a rock in my stomach. “I’ve tried to make things perfect, but perfection isn’t possible in this scenario, Mei. I’ve given this everything . What more do you want from me? How should I feel about giving up everything? Should I be happy about it? Should I not want what I had? What I still could have? Because I do. I want it every single day.”
I swear, trying to catch my breath, but there’s fire in my chest. I bolt past Mei and inside the bathroom so I can break down in private. I’ve held it in for so long, it’s grown into an unmanageable beast, and it hurts coming out, clawing and scratching and thrashing.
But none of it hurts as much as the look on her face just now. I hurt her bad—Mei, the one thing I still have. Isn’t she the only thing that really matters? The one thing I chose . The girl I wanted so bad, I gave up my world for her.
This isn’t her fault. I’m the one who was so desperate to keep her that I came up with this stupid plan. But I’ve still almost lost her, more than once. To Nick—to the guy who intentionally hurt her. Like I just did.
She’s right: I lied to her. But I’ve also lied to myself about how everything I lost didn’t really matter to me. No matter how much I love Mei, the life I wanted still matters to me and I don’t wanna let it go. I still want it. And I hurt Mei because I’m thinking only of myself and what I want, just like Nick.
Cold realization trickles through my veins, into my chest and up my throat, and I rip the small mirror off the wall, unable to look at myself. What have I done?
Exactly what you said you’d never do.
No, I love her. I’ve proven it over and over.
But the words I just threw at her didn’t sound like love.
Panic takes control and I stumble from the bathroom, afraid I’ll find an empty living room like I did all those months ago at The Clubhouse. The night I thought I’d lost her because of more stupid words I said.
But she’s there, crying silently on the couch, Charlie in her arms. Wrecked. Again. But this time, it’s all because of me.