28. Chapter 28
28
I get home from dropping off Dahlia and immediately run to wash my face in our main bathroom. I’ve been trying to teach her how to wash her own face, and we play with self care like we’re giving ourselves spa treatments. It’s a win-win because she eats it up, giggles the whole time, and it’s good for my skin. I don’t do it as often as I should.
Caleb was kind enough to tell me that I had bright blue paint all over the side of my face and in my hair, after a very crafty little afternoon. Funny that my child who had been looking at me all day didn’t mention it, but then again she might not have noticed. I do dye my hair pink, maybe she thought a blue face was the next normal thing for me to do.
I’m so grateful it’s washable paint as I locate the strands of hair that are stuck together with it and rinse them as best I can in the sink. A normal person would probably take a whole shower, but I already did that this morning and I refuse to waste the shampoo. That stuff is not cheap when you don’t want your hair color to fade within a week.
I’m startled by a noise to my left, and I glance at the wall there. It’s just a wall, nothing else. I shake off what I thought I heard and go back to the task at hand.
But then I hear it again.
I step closer, straining my ears to make it out. My heart slams in my chest because I know what this wall is. I know who it must be that I’m hearing. I press my ear all the way against it, desperate for anything from her. Even if this is so out of line, if I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, I don’t care. I don’t have the energy left to care.
Expecting to hear her voice on a phone call, or overhearing whatever she’s watching, I gasp when I realize it’s not either of those things. It’s the heartbreaking, earth shattering sound of her crying. The woman who doesn’t cry.
Not in the way that I don’t cry, because I know I’m a huge baby. It doesn’t take much. But Kara? She really never did, not once in the time I’ve known her.
I forgot just how thin the walls were until this moment. My bare back falls against the cool wall, sending a shiver through me that I ignore. It doesn’t feel like anything compared to the crack that’s deepening in my heart at the sound of her sobs.
All I want is to tell her that I’m here. She’s spent too damn long feeling alone, and blaming herself, and I can’t fucking stand that I know she’s doing it now. It’s the whole reason she’s done this to us. The reason she broke my heart. She doesn’t forgive herself for being who she is, for making mistakes, for letting fear poison all of the relationships in her life until she felt so completely unworthy.
On the surface– sure, she dumped me because she has a rocky past with one of my best friends. It was too easy of an excuse to push me away. I should’ve known we were walking on thin ice. Every time it hit me, just how much I was starting to care about her, I should’ve known.
The worst, honest truth of that, is that I probably did. But she made me feel so good that I didn’t care. I would’ve risked it all for her. I still would.
I remember crying over Olivia, and Caleb, and even a couple of exes before them. I remember being hurt, but it never felt like this. In reality, my pride might’ve been hurt more than most things. With Caleb I was simply exhausted, and then I was relieved when we ended things.
I’ve never wanted to rip my own heart out of my chest, because I’m not strong enough to take what it’s doing to me. I’m so desperate to numb the feeling, and yet I don’t want it to go away. Not when it’s the only thing tying us together.
That, and the pair of socks that have been sitting on my bedroom floor for the last month. It would feel too final if I picked them up. Right now, I can delude myself into thinking they’re just sitting there waiting for her to come back for them.
I’ll give her shit for “trashing my apartment,” she’ll laugh before she throws them right in my face, and I’ll pretend it’s the worst thing she could do. I’m not a bad actress, I could convince her I’ve never smelled anything more foul in my entire life. When she pretends it offends her, I’d sweep her off her feet so she falls back on the bed.
I hear her crying start up again, and throw my head down in defeat. I couldn’t be more of a fool, sitting here daydreaming about a time that’s likely lost forever.
A huge piece of me is aching to bang on this wall and beg her to let me in. To give me anything.
A bigger piece is aware that it’s pointless. She doesn’t back down when she’s decided something.
The sound of her bathtub draining fills my ears. Somehow that gives me enough confidence to shout, I don’t even bother to worry if it’s loud enough to drown me out.
“I can’t do this anymore!”
The ache dulls the smallest amount, as if I’ve tricked myself into thinking I’ve done something that’s going to make a difference.
I sit there for a few more minutes, wondering if I’ll get any more glimpses into her evening. It remains silent when the tub is emptied, and I know she’s gone. Not just because she isn’t making a sound, but because I think I’d feel her if she was still close by.
Soulmates have to be real, because there’s no other way to explain how that works.
I finally decide to stand, now that my ass is numb from being on the hard tile floor so long. My stiff joints protest at the movement, and I let out a small groan of discomfort as I straighten.
“ Reya ?”
I freeze, sure that I’ve absolutely lost my mind. That, or there’s a ghost in my bathroom. I did used to always say she was one.
I don’t dare move, I barely breathe. I really am insane for waiting to hear it again when it was no doubt my overactive imagination.
The continuous quiet makes me snap.
“Get a grip,” I whisper to myself, before my feet drag me out into the hall.
I almost trip over the sneakers I’d been too unsettled to remember to take off by my front door. I’m going to really hurt myself if I keep being such a mess. I shouldn’t be trusted anywhere near shoes that aren’t actually tied on my feet. They’re dangerous.
I grab them to bring them over to the rack I have in the living room. Even that’s a mess, not big enough to contain the mess of Dahlia and I. I can put a lot of that blame on her, she owns way more shoes than I do, and she throws them in the general vicinity whenever she wants them off.
With nothing better to do, I sit down on the floor in front of the pile and start organizing. I find pairs and set them together neatly in front of the rack. I separate them too, putting hers on one side, and mine on the other.
One, small, sudden thud sounds at my front door and it scares me so much that the shoe in my hand is thrown towards it with all the force I have.
What the fuck?
“ Reya, please. I know you’re in there. ”
“What the fuck,” I whisper. “Kara?” My voice is a desperate plea, needing this to be real.
“ Yeah. Hi. ”
I don’t want her voice to be muffled, but for some reason I just can’t move. This must be what it’s like to be in shock.
“Am I imagining this right now?”
“ Maybe I’m the one imagining it ,” she answers. “ Hard to say unless you open the door. ”
“I don’t… What are you doing?”
“ I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight .” Her voice cracks mid sentence, and my eyes fill with tears as if hers are contagious. “ I just need you, sunshine .”
I shake my head to myself, allowing some logical thought to break through the pain.
“You can’t do this. It’s not fair.”
“ I know it’s not, ” is all she says.
“If I open that door, you’re just going to fuck me up all over again.”
“ You might be overestimating my strength there .”
“How can I? You were strong enough to walk away from me, and you’ve held out this long.”
“ I’m a fucking idiot ,” she whispers. “ I want a time machine. ”
“To stop yourself from ever moving in next to me?” I ask.
To prevent everything that’s happened between us from happening.
I don’t have it in me to wish the same.
“ No, fuck that. Meeting you is hands down the best thing that has ever happened to me . Ever,” she emphasizes. The words make my stomach flip, and I am in agony over how much I want them to be true.
But if that were the truth, this wouldn't be where we’ve ended up, right? There’s no way she would’ve done this to me.
“You might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” I say the words so softly that she doesn’t hear them. I’m not looking to hurt her, despite it all.
“Please open the door .”
That sentence triggers something in me that causes words to fall out of my mouth like fire from a dragon.
“That sounds really familiar, babe. How many times have I asked that of you, just to get a big fat nothing done about it? Am I supposed to just give you everything I’ve got, and be okay with getting nothing in return?” I shake my head, willing my voice to stay steady through the torrent of my extreme emotions. “I can’t handle opening this door and knowing you’re never going to open yours for me. I’ve played this game before, and I’m not going to do it with you! I deserve better.”
Every fibre of my being seems to scream in protest of the words I just said. I might mean them, or at least desperately want to, but my feet are begging me to let them move towards her. My fingers itch to turn the lock. My arms are desperate to be around her.
“ You’re so right. You do deserve better, and I want to be better for you. ” She sniffles, and curses, and it’s just then I realize that it’s pouring rain out there. She’s probably soaked, and this probably isn’t the circumstance in which it’s a nice thing. “I thought I was doing us both a favor, but there’s no universe where I could believe this is good for me. It’s killing me, Reya. I fucking need you, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize that before I hurt you like this. Before I broke your trust. I hope you know how sorry I am, even if you don’t let me in. I’ll understand if you need to protect your peace. I know I’ve been anything but a peaceful presence in your life. ”
I give myself time to take it all in. She isn’t going to go anywhere while I do, the sound of her voice telling me that much.
I’ve felt it killing me, too. Does that mean I should forgive her so easily? Giving her another chance to do this all over again is the most terrifying thought. It would be worse somehow, and I can’t imagine it getting worse than this. If I’m already at the bottom of the barrel, she has the capability of burying me far beneath the earth.
I approach the door, and lean my forehead against it before I do anything rash.
“Definitely not peaceful,” I agree. A small thud sounds from her side, and I have a feeling we’d look symmetrical from a side view.
“ I’m so sorry ,” she cries.
“You’re not someone I can recover from.”
“What can I do? Please tell me what– ”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
And I can’t tell if it’s of letting you in or letting you go.
Except… I do know. It hits me as the words fly out of my mouth.
Fuck it.
I flick the lock, and pull the door open faster than she can catch on. She stumbles forward, and I put a steadying hand on her arm before she can fall into me. I’m not there yet. As far as catching up to tonight's events, I’m mentally still sitting on my bathroom floor listening to her crying through the wall.
If I’m being dramatic? I’m still sitting on the porch with her giggling in my lap before everything went to shit. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that moment.
“Hi,” she breathes. Her lashes glisten, and streaks of tears still sit on her cheeks. The rain is falling, the wind is blowing, but it looks like the front of her was protected by her huddling against my door.
“Hi.”
She nods past me, shivering.
“Can I?”
I step aside wordlessly.
My gaze tracks her as she goes to stand over a vent on the floor that’s blowing out hot air. I move to turn the heat up.
“You shouldn’t have been out in that weather,” I scold.
“It was worth it.” Our eyes lock from across the room. “I got in here.”
“So, now what? You keep pretending I’m worth it until the smallest thing sets you off and sends you running?”
She winces, and I hate it. I hate feeling like I’m doing something to hurt her, but I have to remind myself that I’m the one who’s been trying. I went crawling after her again and again while she shut me out.
“Your relationship with your best friend is not a small thing.”
“Did I not stand there and tell you that I didn’t have to tell her about us? I wouldn’t have put you through that, not until you were ready.”
“That’s the problem. What if I’m never ready, and I just continue to be this secret between you two? It wouldn’t end pretty.”
“Why bother coming back here tonight if that’s what you think.”
She hangs her head.
“I want to get there. I mean–I don’t want to. I’ve never been good at facing things head on, and if I had it my way, I’d avoid it all forever. But I know that’s not how life works. I’m going to have to confront some shit that makes me uncomfortable, especially if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me.”
“I don’t know if I forgive you.”
She nods like my words make all the sense in the world.
“I know. I don’t forgive me.”
I swear the rain started pelting the window so much harder at her words. The sound of it so loud that I had to step closer to her to avoid yelling.
“What’s your point? You want me to tell her now?”
“No. I mean, I want you to do whatever you want to do.”
I thought I’d felt exhaustion before. I cried over the desire to sleep, or to shut my mind off. I’ve stood in place at work, or while cooking dinner, and wished I could drop to the ground and rest right there. I’ve wanted to forget my responsibilities, forget every single thing going on around me, and just check out for a while.
But I am consumed by it right now. Today has been such a roller coaster, that I can’t do it anymore. The woman I love is standing in front of me, and I’m so torn between what to do about it, that my body decides for me. We’re not going to do anything at all.
I wordlessly begin walking to my room, and I can feel her confusion. I’m sure if I had the energy to look up at her, I’d see that small pout of her bottom lip that is the bane of my existence.
I’m not doing anything about it tonight. She can pout. She can do anything she wants to do, but it won’t change the fact that I’m going to bed.
“Reya?” Kara’s cautious voice carries to me when I’m already in the other room.
I slowly pull off my clothes, piece by piece until I’m standing in my room completely naked. Underwear is too much work to pull on, but I do snag one of my big t-shirts from my closet and somehow end up with it over my head.
That’s when she appears in that doorway, looking hopeless and hopeful all at once.
“Are we not going to–”
“No,” I say as I lay down and pull my comforter over my shoulders.
Whoever invented and named the comforter did something right. It is comforting. I’ve always loved getting into bed at night, and feeling embraced by my pillows and blankets. It’s the only thing I’m able to acknowledge right now.
I sigh contentedly, as if I have no reason not to.
I drift off almost instantly, only slightly aware of the feeling of someone climbing in the bed next to me.