34. Georgie
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
GEORGIE
Noah doesn't understand why I don't answer his calls.
He said as much on my voicemail for the fifth time in ten minutes.
But I can't bear to talk to him, to see his stupid cute face, not right now.
I know I haven't given him a chance to explain himself, and I want to give that to him.
But I need time. To process how I feel, all the things I want to say that I haven't said, all the things we should have talked about well before this.
Now with the added emotions of losing Birdie.
I need to be alone. I take the key out of the plant in the hallway, knowing that if he gets let into the building that he will use it to come inside before I am ready to face him.
I turn off my shattered but somehow still working phone, and I sit on the couch cocooned in a blanket that we used for cuddles so many nights in a row.
The longer I sit and stew, the more I miss her.
The more I miss her, the harder it is to feel anything but anger and grief.
I think I am going to get the call to come get Birdie, but I never do.
I want that call to come in more than I want air to breathe or water to drink.
Two days pass by, and then a third, but the only calls I get are from Noah, which I ignore.
On the fourth day, the rain outside my window lights up the evening sky with soft hues of grey.
Lightning makes the world seem like it's on fire, which feels fitting.
I think Noah's finally given up on me, for countless reasons I wouldn't blame him for.
Maybe letting things fall where they may would hurt less.
I take a shower to warm myself up, put on my comfiest pajamas, braid my hair off my face and contemplate eating for the first time today.
Mid-food decision, there's a loud banging on my balcony door, startling me out of my little sad bubble.
I slither my way through the house to see who the fuck would make it this far up the balconies this late into the evening and in the nasty rainstorm to boot.
When I pull back the curtains slowly, I gasp to see Noah standing outside on my balcony, shoulders rising and falling in heaves, drenched in the rain and holding a bouquet of beautiful, albeit very waterlogged, roses.
"What are you doing out there!?" I shout as I open the balcony door, pulling him inside before he gets even more soaked. He lets out a soft pant, and when he turns, there's water dripping down his nose.
He smiles as he takes in my very not hot pajamas and I instantly move to hide.
"Hello?" I snap in his face, refocusing his attention. "How did you get up here?"
His shoes are sopping, stumbling and slipping on my floor.
He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, "I climbed. You have fire escapes, I have feet, I just hid under the balconies in between the big gusts of wind."
"You're soaked." I tut, moving to get him out of his cold, wet clothes, but he steps away, nearly slipping again.
"You weren't answering my calls again, Georgie. I didn't know what else to do."
"Text me? Like a normal person?" I tell him, trying and failing to step toward him again. This dance we do is about to become stepping on toes.
He huffs out a frustrated laugh, "What, so you could ignore me again there too? Yeah, not a chance. I have things to say, and I am not about to say them through a green bubble."
"If you got an iPhone, it would've been a blue bubble," I say, trying and failing to lighten the mood and he glares at me.
He rubs at his temple, shaking his head so the water droplets splatter from his hair to the floor. "Georgie, please. I'm trying to grand gesture here."
"Don't." I shake my head, swallowing down the burning feeling of wanting to scream those three words revealing my heart’s secrets. I love you. Better yet, I think I hate that I love you. “Don’t do it.”
"Why can't I? I need to know that I did all I could. If it's not enough, I will walk away. But at least let me talk, even if you have nothing to say back. Please?"
Taking the flowers from him, I nod to give him the go ahead.
The flowers are a soft mauve purple pink that reminds me of one of the lipsticks I have in my makeup case.
I smile as I touch their delicate petals, only a few damaged in his climb in the rain.
I look up to see him still dripping where he stands.
"Please change your clothes first. I’d hate for you to get a cold. "
"That’s now how colds work—" He goes to argue more, but I raise an eyebrow at him, and he resigns without another word, slipping past me to grab clean, dry clothes where he's kept them in a drawer of my dresser.
I can't remember when we became this domesticated, but it makes my heart hurt to think about the discussions we're about to have and how this all might change.
And as I expected, the moment I saw him all the fear, the anxiety, the anger, it all faded away again.
Caring about Noah and his well-being and his feelings comes first. It's another reason why falling in love is dangerous.
"Have you eaten? I could go for a pizza right about now if you want to order one, and we can talk while we wait—" Noah continues to chatter, pulling his shirt down over his glorious body, and I look up to realize he must have asked me something I didn’t respond to.
I clear my throat, "What?"
"I asked if this was okay, my being here and invading your space again.”
"I'll live." I tease, trying to make a lighthearted comment.
He nods. "Where's Birdie? It’s not like her to not come running to me."
Noah starts searching for her and I can’t help but start crying, cursing myself for breaking the perfect composure I'd maintained up until this point.
"Georgie?" he says my name softly, concern written all over his face. I try to pull away, shaking my head and barely putting up a fight. "What is it?"
"They... they took her, Noah. They gave her away to a family with a workaholic father, a stressed-out mother, and two snot-nosed kids who are going to ruin her. You. You all gave her to them." I pace back and forth, wiping at my tears.
He pulls away to look me in the eyes, "Georgie, I voted for her to stay with you.
As if I would choose anyone else for her to stay with.
She's your dog; you're her person. I didn't even know you were thinking about adopting her until I saw your application but I was so happy to see it.
It was nearly unanimous that she would stay with you.
I have no idea how this happened, but I can find out for you.
Wait is... is this why you've been avoiding me?
You really thought I had a part in losing Birdie? "
"No. I mean, I hoped you were not part of it. And I guess my being a sad sack was just the most recent reason for pulling away," I say honestly, looking away from him in shame.
"There's more than one?" He says, sounding wounded.
"I... There's a lot going on. Like more than a lot." Tears brimming, I blurt, "But I think we should break up?"
Noah looks as though the wind has been knocked out of him. He looks like he's going to be ill. But he maintains as much of his composure as he can, "You don't seem very confident in that decision."
The truth is, I don't know how to respond to that.
Noah swallows once, twice, running a hand through his still-soaked hair, his t-shirt pulling tight across his arms. “Georgie, I can’t take this on and off, hot and cold game we’re playing here.
You promised you wouldn’t push me away; you wouldn’t shut me out.
You’re doing just that, over and over again.
I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt; I tried to give you space.
I’ve tried and tried and all I got was radio silence.
For fucks sakes, Georgie. You were in the hospital, you could have died, and you wouldn’t even let me come see you.
Do you know how shitty that made me feel? ”
I feel like he's taking every possible hurtful thing he can think of, and he's stabbing me with words we left unspoken. And the worst part is, I deserve every single blow he sends my way. I did this, I let us become this way. I didn't end things soon enough, because I was happy and I wanted him to stay even if I knew it meant a broken heart in the future. I didn’t consider how his heart would fare, and that’s what makes me feel the worst.
He continues before I can speak, “I… I couldn’t eat or sleep or think, because I couldn’t imagine the amount of pain you were in, or how alone you felt in the hospital by yourself and the fact that I wanted to be there to hold your hand and you just…
you told them to send me away. Do you know how gutted I felt?
It makes me feel like you don’t want me. Like I’m not good enough for you or—”
“You are,” I cut in, nodding, trying to reach for his hands to hold, to make him understand. “God…”
My voice breaks, I choke out a small sob, shaking my head, voice barely a whisper, “You’re more than good, Noah. You are good enough. You’re more than enough. You’re everything, and you’re perfect.”
“Then why won't you let me be there for you?” He sounds so angry, broken, his eyes a soft pool of honey brown that melts me in place.
“Because of that very reason. You’re too perfect.
I’ve yet to see a flaw. And that’s all I am.
Flaws and scars and a semi-functioning human who is just getting by.
I’ve come to accept that. I have. But Noah, this, all of this isn’t going anywhere.
If anything, it’s going to get worse. I can’t give you the perfect white picket fence life with seven kids, and a dog and rocking chairs on our porch.
I just think you deserve better than what I can give and-”
“Who are you to decide all that for me? Do you really think I could be that shallow? Georgie, I am choosing you, I have always chosen you." Noah sounds so sure of himself, and it breaks me a little more.
“You can't," I choke out.