34. Early November 2018
Chapter thirty-four
Early November 2018
Sam
I t’s been two weeks, and I still haven’t texted Maria back.
I realized a decision had to be made after that night at Dexter’s with Ricky and Big C.
And I’ve chosen Cara.
Day after day, I crafted a text to Maria, my words carefully chosen as I would ask her to meet me. Then, I would delete it. Deep down, I know that as soon as I do this, she will be out of my life. Probably forever. And the thought of that is … heartbreaking. Because despite everything, I’m going to lose my best friend.
Instead, I have chosen avoidance.
And look, I know that I am being a world-class coward right now, but I don’t want to face the music. For the past fourteen days, I have arrived at work early so that I don’t run into Maria. I’ve totally ghosted her and when she finally sees me, she is going to be mad.
Kinda like the way she looks right now as I pull into the parking lot at work, and she is standing right next to where I usually park. Arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked out to the side.
Oh, God.
Why is she so beautiful, even when she’s mad?
I pull the car into the spot under the tree, grab my bag, and get out. It’s six-forty-five in the morning. Way before her shift starts. Which also means she came here this early on purpose, wanting answers.
With the day just starting to break and me not quite ready to face the music, I get out, shut the door, and hit the key fob to lock it. A loud chirp fills the air, adding to the palpable tension. Maria’s eyes study my every move. Finally, she speaks.
“I’m trying really hard to not be mad at you right now, Sam. Why have you stopped talking to me? Are you okay? Is Mikey okay?” She’s equal parts mad and concerned, which is making me feel like garbage. Here I thought she was furious with me, but it turns out she actually thinks something might be wrong with me. Or Mikey.
God, I’m such a jerk.
“I’m fine, Maria. Mikey is okay as well.”
She throws her arms up in the air. “Then what the hell, Sam!? What’s going on?”
I can’t look at her, so I turn my attention to the yellow parking lines, noticing that they need repainting. Shaking my head in frustration, I reluctantly come to terms with the fact that I have no choice but to do this. “Maybe we should get in my car and talk.”
She inhales sharply as the color drains from her face. “Um … okay.”
Unlocking the doors that I just locked, I walk to the driver’s side. I hear Maria open and shut the door. By the time I put my bag into the back seat, she is already in the passenger side, waiting and watching.
I turn to face her as I rest my hand on the steering wheel to brace myself. “Maria, I’m sorry, but I can’t text you anymore or meet for lunch.”
Her head jolts back in shock. “Why?”
I take a second to work myself up, bracing for whatever happens next. “Because I’m seeing someone.”
She lets out a small gasp. I understand why this is a shock. My texts and our lunches together have never led her to believe otherwise. Quite the opposite, actually. By her reaction, I realize I should have told her .
Plus, well, there’s Cara.
“I think it would be—”
“For how long?” she interrupts as her eyes narrow.
Crap! I was really hoping she wouldn’t ask this question.
She asks again. “For. How. Long?”
I steady myself as I prepare to answer. This is going to hurt, which is making me feel terrible. “We’ve been seeing each other for a year.”
Her chin quivers, and tears pull in her eyes. “You have got to be kidding me?”
“Maria, let me—”
She holds up her hand to stop me. “So, when we hugged that day—the day you approached me, by the way—when you text me I was beautiful, and during our many lunch dates, when you would hold my hand and hold me , you were seeing someone?”
The hurt look on her face is killing me. But I need to be honest. “Yes.” It’s all I can muster.
“Okay … wow.” She pauses as the rising sun casts a soft glow to her face, adding to her gorgeous features. “Need I remind you that you were the one that started this?”
“You don’t.”
“Obviously, something has changed. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, out of the blue. So what is it, Sam?”
“Maria, I …” The words won’t come out. I can’t tell her. Having her sitting here, her eyes pleading, knowing my decision is going to hurt her, is making this way harder than I expected. “Cara and I—”
“Cara? Seriously?” she questions with disgust and now I’m defensive.
“Yes, Cara. We have history, and we reconnected recently.”
“Not recently, Sam. A year ago. That’s far from recent.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Does she know that you and I have been texting, getting lunch together? Reconnecting?” She uses air quotes with that last word.
I shake my head no.
“ Wow .” She lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “I never pegged you as a cheater, Sam.”
This makes my blood boil.
“I didn’t cheat on Cara. We were casual. She was seeing other people also. It was nothing serious until recently, which is why I’m doing this." I pause. "But let me ask you. How did it feel riding in that shiny red Vette? Or spending Chad’s money? You are the reason we are in this situation to begin with, Maria. You. Don’t forget that.”
The words vomit out of my mouth before I can stop them. And I regret them immediately because it looks like I just smacked her in the face. But honestly, that statement has been brewing inside of me for a while now. Ever since I read The Chad on her doorstep. Add to that her obvious disdain for a woman she doesn’t even know … maybe it’s time we have this conversation.
Her breath catches, and I can feel the sharpness of my words cutting through her heart. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” She turns to look out the window, and I see her wipe a stray tear from her cheek. She keeps her eyes fixed on the outside world as she continues. “I explained to you why that happened. You know how much I regret what I did to you.”
“Do I?”
Her head whips around, her green eyes narrow, now full of anger. They burrow into mine. “You should!” She yells as she points her finger at her chest. “Sam, I am full of so much regret over that decision that I am practically drowning in it!” Her hand is shaking now. “How can you not know that?!!”
“YOU brOKE US!” My raised voice reverberates through the small space, causing her to flinch. “You destroyed me! You destroyed us!”
“You think I don’t know that?!” The energy inside the car is palpable, surging and charging the more we scream at each other. “I brOKE MYSELF! Can’t you see that? My decision that day affected me just as much as it did you! And trust me, I understand.”
“You understand? How could you possibly understand how I felt—”
“Nate cheated on me.” She says it so matter of fact that my head whips back in shock. “For almost our whole marriage. So yeah, I understand what’s it like to be left and betrayed by someone you love. ”
I really want to feel sorry for her. I do. But right now, I can’t. My anger and repressed hurt are getting in the way.
“We wouldn’t be in this situation if you had just TALKED TO ME! Brielle, Mason, and Mikey … they could have been our kids!” I pound my chest. “We could have had a life, but you threw it away! Not once, but twice!” Finally, I am saying out loud what I have been holding in for years. Not writing it in a letter, an email, or a text. These are words I need for her to hear. I get my breathing under control before I continue. But she speaks before I have time to.
“Are you trying to hurt me? Is that what this is?” She adjusts herself in the seat as if she is trying to get away from me, though she has nowhere to go.
Is she right? Is that what I’m doing? She hurt me, so now I hurt her.
With her back pressed up against the car door, her chest is rising and falling from her labored breathing. If she could sink into the tan leather of the seat and disappear, I’m sure she would. “Hurt me, push me away, force me to run away so this is easier for you to end.” She points between the two of us. “Whatever this is? Or was.”
We both stare at each other, and she places her hand on her stomach. More than likely feeling as sick as I am over the turn this conversation has taken. “Maria, when you started talking about the past in your texts and when we would talk over lunch about maybe a future, my anxiety kicked in. I can’t take a chance on you hurting me again. There’s a trust issue, and I can’t allow myself to open back up to you. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“Hmm. Okay.” She nods in response, her hair gently swaying with the movement. Then her eyes lock onto mine as her jaw tenses. “I’m going to start by saying this. How dare you put the blame on me for this past year? I did nothing wrong. This is all you. I think we can both agree on that, can’t we?”
“Yes.” She’s right. All she did was show up and be herself. I can’t blame her for my shortcomings here. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” She’s biting the side of her lip. Something she does when she is really mad. Also, she’s picking her nails. “I know you blame me for everything. Maybe even Erica’s death.” The mention of Erica’s name makes me wince. “But I need for you to know how much I blame myself. Not a day goes by …” She’s out right crying now, and it takes her a second to catch her breath. I reach for her hand. She yanks it away.
“Maria …”
“No! Let me finish.” Her tear-filled eyes meet mine. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how the decisions I made affected us. Affected our future. Giving you that letter, marrying Nate, all of it haunts me. Hell, I ended up in not one but two abusive relationships because of it. Every day, Sam. I live, breathe, and sleep with regret.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the surroundings as she gathers her thoughts. “I may never be able to forgive myself. But in order for us to ever have a chance, I need for you to forgive me. To trust that I would never do that to you again. And it’s obvious you aren’t there yet.”
She’s not wrong. I haven’t let it go. I haven’t forgiven her.
And I don’t know if I ever will.
“You’re right,” I whisper back. Because it’s the truth.
She wipes her cheeks and turns her whole body away from me to leave, grabbing the door handle, but stops. She’s fiddling with something, but I can’t tell what. Without turning and with her back to me, she peers out the window, workers streaming into their jobs the only view. “I’m done asking for your forgiveness and trust, Sam.” She straightens her back as if saying this gives her the strength she needs to leave my car. “I wish you and Cara the best. Have a nice life.”
I avert my eyes, unable to watch as she opens the car door and steps out. It slams shut, causing me to flinch. She confidently strides in front of my car, her shoes crunching against the pavement. As she marches back to her car, her blonde hair catches the gentle morning light. Without a glance in my direction, she gets into her car and drives off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I rest my head back on the seat as a burst of anger fills my chest. In a fit of rage, I pound on the steering wheel and scream, the intensity of my emotions finally breaking free.
I should have never opened up this can of worms with her. The consequences of stopping to talk to her that day are present in my mind. She wouldn’t have known I was so close and been none the wiser .
Ignorance is bliss. I realize that now. The only thing I’ve accomplished is hurting her.
At the same time, I understand the importance of moving on and embracing new beginnings. I can’t take the chance of Maria hurting me again.
I don’t trust her. And I won’t be able to forgive her until I feel I can trust her again. When will that be?
No clue. And now, after this … I’ll never know.
Also, I have Mikey to think about. There is no way I can introduce him to her, and then she decides to leave me for someone else. Because, without a doubt, I know my son would fall in love with Maria.
He is my son, after all.
I refocus my thinking and decide to forge ahead. Maria is my past. Cara is my future.
Without warning, my mom’s thoughts from that visit home years ago pop into my head. Am I doing it again? Running in the opposite direction of what I want to avoid the hurt? To avoid dealing with what is really plaguing me? And then, in turn, sacrificing my happiness?
Probably.
But I can’t psychoanalyze myself right now. I’ve made my decision, whatever the reason, and I have to follow through. I round my shoulders and reach around to grab my bag from the backseat. When I do, the light catches on something resting on the passenger seat.
Her watch. My watch. Our watch.
She left behind the watch I gave her at graduation. She promised me that day she would always wear it. And she did. Every time I have seen her since, she was wearing it.
Until today.
With a shaking hand, I pick it up, the metal still warm from her wrist. I study it, feeling its smooth texture as I roll it in my hand. I stop and purposely flip it over, the inscription staring back at me. Words I felt at the time.
They are just words. But they are my words. To her.
Yours, Sam .
I honestly don’t know what to do with it. This is a chaotic mess that leaves me feeling lost. How do I feel about her leaving it behind? Hurt? Is this closure? Am I happy?
I have no clue. These conflicting emotions are doing a number on me, and it’s all so complicated.
Complicated. That’s what my feelings are toward Maria. And maybe they always will be. There’s no making sense of this situation. No matter how hard we try, our relationship is muddy.
A big muddy mess.
Not wanting to deal with this right now, I open the glove compartment and toss the watch in, slamming it shut.
Shutting the door on my past.
I shake my head vigorously and rub my hands over my face, attempting to make sense of the whirlwind my life has become. I open the car door and step out. Why does this hurt so badly? The heaviness in my heart is overwhelming, and I must find peace and remind myself that this was the best decision for me.
And I know just how to do that.
I get my phone from my back pocket and open up my messages, finding my and Cara’s text thread. I focus my attention on the screen, typing out a text.
Me: Hey gorgeous. Have a great day today. Dinner tonight? heart emoji
I hit send, satisfied with myself. The prospect of tonight already stirring something inside of me.
But with each step I take, my heart hurts more.
Something doesn’t feel right. A sinking sensation floods over me as I press my hand against my chest, as though it's caving in on itself.
If Cara is my future, then why does everything feel so wrong?