Chapter 14 #2
His words sting. I try to hold on to how pissed I am to stop myself from having to confront the reality that underneath the anger, he’s right.
I did make assumptions about his life and how easy it must be.
I couldn’t shake them. I made a lot of hypotheses about him that I shouldn’t have and I never gave him a chance to fully explain.
“I know I fucked up,” he says, voice raw.
“I wanted this job and I kept putting off telling you. I know I should have been more honest. I was wrong.” This is a side of Brady I’ve never seen before.
He’s not blowing off my concerns or changing the subject.
He’s confronting what he did. “I thought I would do it in person at the airport. Which I know was too late. I’m sorry.
I’m truly sorry. And then I thought I would do it when we landed, or on our first day.
But we were having such a good time. I thought you would think I…
” He stops, shakes his head. “I don’t know… I fucked up.”
The phone rings like an alarm, starling us both. Brady answers, listens, hangs up.
“Aisha’s here.” He won’t meet my eyes. “I’ll handle it. If you want to go back home, I understand. I wouldn’t blame you. I’ll book you a flight tonight if that’s what you want. No questions asked.”
He runs to the bathroom to splash water on his face and I try to take in how everything has changed over the past few minutes. I’m trying to reconcile the Brady I knew from last year and the one who just took accountability and apologized. He didn’t double down. He even gave me an out if I want it.
I’m having so many feelings at once I can’t understand them all.
I can map a neural pathway and predict how a single impulse will move through the cerebral cortex.
Electricity in the brain follows rules and patterns.
But this? Brady? I can’t understand him.
Why would he even want any of this? He’s at the door when I finally ask.
“Brady, why does this matter so much? The real reason.”
Brady pauses, hand on the doorknob. When he turns back, he looks exhausted and stressed.
“Because for once, I wanted to be good at something that wasn’t partying or spending money or disappointing people.
They wanted us because they thought we had something special just by looking at the pictures of us together.
” His smiles a crooked grin. “I guess they’re as stupid as I am, huh? ”
He is out the door before I can respond.
I stand in the middle of the suite, processing, until the room begins to feel too small and the tension in my body makes me feel restless.
I need to move, to run, to do something before I suffocate under the earthquake of feelings I’m trying to shut down.
Part of me wants to pack up and leave on the next flight but part of me needs to slow down and think this through logically. Examine. Diagnose. Treat.
I throw on my running tank, grab my sneakers and bolt out of the room. I take the stairs down and avoid the lobby for obvious reasons.
The London streets blur past as I begin to get up to pace.
I make my way to the edge of Hyde Park and remember how excited I was to see it a few days ago.
I run along the path toward the next green space and follow a black gate until I am standing in front of Buckingham Palace.
Even though it’s evening the area is still crowded with tourists.
I think back to how Brady rested his head on my shoulder in the car, but before I can let the memory infiltrate my thoughts, I pick up speed and run faster.
But I can’t outrun the truth that maybe I’ve been just as dismissive as his family, just as unforgiving.
Snapping at him and not listening to his explanation.
Shutting down and not letting him in. Blaming him.
Rubbing his face in his mistakes. What would I have said if he told me the truth?
He’s right; I would have flat out refused, even needing the money as bad as I did.
I’d be stuck in Alabama either working around the clock or delaying medical school for another year, letting my pride impede my progress.
But I’m not going to be manipulated again and let history repeat itself.
Though maybe it isn’t repeating. Maybe he’s not the same person he was, or maybe I’m not the same person.
He should have told me from the start that we needed to pretend to be a couple, but at least he’s admitting that he fucked up.
He’s willing to sacrifice all of it and send me home if that’s what I want.
Is that a part of Brady that wasn’t there before or a part that I didn’t see because of my own myopia?
Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not a big deal. It’s simply a job requirement, like wearing the coveralls with my name on it at the garage. How hard would it be to fake being a couple with Brady for the rest of the trip? The question runs through my mind as my feet pound the pavement along the Thames.