Chapter 37
Ellie
“Hey, look who’s back!” David cheers, holding his drink up to me as I storm toward the table. His eyes widen, arm sinking back down when he gets a good look at my face. “Wait, are you okay?”
Leaning in close to her ear, I plead, “Abby, we need to go now.” Without hesitation, she grabs both our bags from the hooks under the table and slides out of the booth.
“What happened?” Jack asks, but when his eyes meet mine I know I don’t need to tell him. There’s only one person who gets me worked up like this.
Yeah, yourself. Don’t act like this is his fault.
Extremely unwilling to deal with that self-reflection right now, I spit out, “Go ask Griffin. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about how I wasted his life.” Both boys jump up, reaching out for me to stay and explain, and I struggle to wrench my arm from Jack’s grasp. “Let me go, Jack.”
“Ellie, please–”
“No.” My voice is shrill and unfamiliar in my own ears. “I need to get out of this bar, I need to get out of this town, I need to get out of this life. I never should have come back to this stupid town and its stupid people in the first place.”
He releases his grip on my arm, the flicker of hurt in his eyes sobering me up quicker than a bucket of ice water over the head.
“Jack, you know I didn’t mean you. I shouldn’t have said that.”
There’s a lot I shouldn’t have said tonight.
“Go home, Ellie Bellie,” he murmurs into my ear, patting me on the shoulder as he passes behind me and heads toward the back door. “Sleep it off.”
“Jack, I–”
“I know, Ellie. It’s okay. Go home.”
I stand frozen in place as I watch them weave through the crowd. Abby tugs gently on my arm, leading me out of the chaos to the front parking lot. I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes, shivering while I try to adjust to the frigid November air from the heat of the crowded bar.
Aaron pulls up in front of us, and I clamber into the backseat in complete silence. He briefly glances over his shoulder at me, then turns his attention to where Abby is buckling her seatbelt.
“Don’t,” she whispers, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Just take us home.”
I let my forehead thud against the cold window, staring at the streetlights on the drive home without really seeing them. Regret is already settling in–except, can something really settle in if it’s had a permanent spot in my psyche for ten years?
Why do I always do this?
Therapy must really be paying off, because the second the thought crosses my mind I can hear Kelsi’s voice in my head.
“You treat these things like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Eleanor. You think it will hurt less if you can convince people that you’re awful and unlovable before they come to the conclusion on their own.
The problem is that neither of those things are true–you are the only one who believes them.
But you are unwilling to give people the chance to prove you wrong.
You rob yourself of the opportunity to be happy. ”
Mental note–email Kelsi to set up a virtual appointment as soon as possible.
I told her, and myself, that I’d stop doing that. And for the most part I have. I’m more honest with my friends, and I’m more honest with myself. But there’s something about being around Griffin that yanks me back to the Ellie who treats self-sabotage like a full time job.
Maybe it’s that he has been so unwavering in his love for me. He is so inherently good and kind that I can’t help but feel small and unworthy around him.
You are the only one who believes those things.
Griffin has never believed those things about me. The one time he even remotely suggested it, right before I went to Boston, he texted me immediately apologizing.
Griffin: I didn’t mean what I said, Eleanor.
Griffin: You’re not selfish or awful. I never should have said that. I wish you’d stop saying it about yourself.
Griffin: I love you darlin’, no matter what.
Back then, I read that text over and over as some sadistic kind of punishment. As a reminder of just how badly I messed everything up. After I started therapy, I read it over and over as a reminder that not even the best person I’ve ever met thinks horribly of me.
Well, he didn’t then. But as my own words from tonight echo through my mind, I can’t possibly fathom how he wouldn’t think that now.
You and me both, Griffin. You and me both.