Chapter 29
Bennett
Somehow, the days pass. I’m not sure how, but they do.
The house seems too big now, even though I lived alone here for three years before Zoe moved in. But now, I can feel her absence in every room, and it drives me nuts.
One morning at work, Petra tells me it’s time for a meeting and I continue to sit there with my head in my hands. I know she wants to ask what’s wrong, but the fact that I’ve been even less friendly than usual probably makes her think better of it.
I should try harder—I don’t want people to be scared of me—but I can’t muster the energy, even as I remind myself that I’ve been through much worse.
On the Saturday two weeks after my birthday, I invite Gil over to my house for some godforsaken reason, and he’s highly entertained by my little Christmas tree. In particular, the blasted llamacorn decoration.
“I’m leaving it up because Mittens likes it,” I say. “She never touches it, but she gets mad if I try to change anything.”
“Is that so?” Gil asks.
Mittens is sitting by the fireplace. I take the llamacorn decoration off the tree, and she starts licking herself. She doesn’t care one bit.
“You’re making me look like a liar,” I grumble. “A goddamn liar.”
“You’re particularly grumpy today,” Gil says in a cheerful voice that grates on my nerves. He murmurs his thanks as I hand him a glass of whiskey. Better stuff than he deserves.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I slouch on the far side of the couch.
“So, Zoe’s gone, and that’s why I’m allowed to visit? You look like shit, by the way.”
I know he’s saying that to annoy me.
Are there dark circles under my eyes? Maybe faint ones—I’m not sleeping the greatest—but I look fine otherwise, even if I feel hollow inside.
“She moved out on December first,” I say. “Exactly as planned.”
“Do you miss her?”
“A little.” An understatement, of course.
“You could have asked her to stay. Or to date you for real.”
I shut my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. I don’t have the patience for this.
“I told you what happened,” I say, my jaw tight. “Did you miss the part where my brother revealed the truth to our parents? The part where I put him in a headlock?”
“Unfortunately, I did miss it.” He stretches his arm along the back of the couch. “I really wish I’d been there.”
I glare at him.
“But it doesn’t mean,” he says, “that you couldn’t ask her to be with you.”
“I didn’t have to ask. She asked.”
“Wait a second. She did? After everything went down?”
“She did,” I confirm.
“Then why are you moping?”
I cross my arms. “I’m not moping.”
“Could have fooled me. Do you merely feel betrayed by your cat?”
I look at the cat in question. She’s fallen asleep.
“Fine,” I say. “I miss Zoe, but I’ll be over it soon.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” I speak with more conviction than I feel. The tightness in my chest is unbearable.
I toss back some whiskey, and it doesn’t even burn.
“Why do you have to get over it?” Gil asks. “Why can’t you just, you know, date her?”
I glare at him again.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says. “I’m a genius. I have amazing ideas.”
I don’t know why I’m friends with this man.
He leans forward. “Why did you turn her down?”
“Again, did you miss the part where I attacked my brother?” I’m unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
Gil shrugs. “Sounds like he deserved it.”
I don’t understand why he doesn’t get it. “The only other time I’ve ever felt so out of control? It was after Ginny died. I can’t let myself become that person again.”
“Do you really regret what you did to Clifton?”
“No,” I admit.
“You might have to set some boundaries with your parents for when you’ll have contact with your brother. But I know you, and you’re not going to regularly get violent just because you have a girlfriend you love.”
A girlfriend you love. He says it like it’s no big deal, even though he’s never had a long-term relationship. He prefers to keep it casual and has no shortage of female attention.
“It’s not only that,” I say. “It’s better to end things now, rather than…”
“Ah. You’re afraid of losing her.”
“Don’t tell me you know what it’s like. You have no idea.”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Gil might never have lost a partner, but his mother died when he was young.
“Sorry,” I say.
“That’s okay.” He pauses. “I’ve never been through exactly what you went through, and I didn’t know you when it happened. But is this how you saw your life—you’d never have another relationship?”
“It wasn’t something I wanted.”
“Until Zoe.”
“I don’t want—”
“You do want her,” he says. “It’s just tangled it up in a lot of fear, which is understandable, but I think that’s something you need to get past.”
“You act like it’s easy.”
“In some ways, it is easy. I’m pretty sure if you told Zoe that you’d made a terrible mistake and begged her to take you back, she’d say yes.”
“I do not beg,” I say, but I feel a split second of irrational hope.
He ignores me. “This woman handled everything that happened and still wanted to be together. She also got you to set up a Christmas tree and participate in a costume contest. That’s not someone who comes along every day.”
He doesn’t need to tell me that Zoe is special; I’m very much aware of it.
“I wouldn’t give it up if I were you,” he says. “If I had the chance to…” He shakes his head and gets an odd look on his face. I don’t think this has to do with his mom.
I lean toward him. “If you had the chance to do what? What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head again with a far-off smile. “Never mind. We’re focusing on you.”
“I want to know.”
“Some other time.” His smile slides away. “I understand why you feel this way, but I still think you’ll regret this. You need to get your head out of your ass.”
In response, I merely take a sip of my drink.
Last weekend, I told my parents that I wasn’t up for dim sum, but this time, I’m going. I should stick to my regular routines, as best I can. I know that’s important for getting over Zoe.
After my mom places our order, she looks at me and says, “I didn’t mean for you to feel hassled or pressured to date.”
I’d prefer to never talk about this again, but it’s no surprise that I’m not getting my wish.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“No, it’s not.”
I pinch my brow. “You weren’t pressuring me. You just brought it up more often than I wanted, and it felt like you were worried about me.”
“Of course I was! I’m not allowed to worry about my own son? You can’t stop me from worrying.”
“I was just trying to ease your mind.” The way I fell apart after Ginny’s death? My mom and dad were very concerned about me then, and I didn’t want a repeat of that. I swore they’d never need to take care of me again.
Now, it seems foolish to think I could completely prevent them from worrying, though that was my goal for years.
It also occurs to me that maybe my parents took time off not only for my sake, but because they were grieving, too. Ginny and I had been together for a long time, and they knew her well.
My mother’s face softens. “I want you to have something in your life other than work, and you used to like being in a relationship. You wanted to get married. I only wish to see you happy.”
I suspect she also wants grandkids, but unlike some parents, she won’t actually say that.
“You picked the right woman once,” she tells me. “I knew you’d be able to do it again. I guess that’s why you waited so long to date—you were waiting for the right person.”
I’m getting a headache. “Zoe and I weren’t a real couple. Didn’t you hear what Clifton said?”
“I know,” Dad says, “but you were so good together.”
“You were just seeing what you wanted to see.”
Mom clicks her tongue. “You think we’re fools? We noticed the way you looked at each other.”
I open my mouth, but when she holds up a finger, I shut it.
“You’re not that good an actor,” she says. “I know my son. Even after your brother told us everything, Zoe stayed by your side. I know you had something real.”
Some silly part of me is glad to hear those words, but I squash it.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “She moved out.”
“You were living together?” Dad asks.
Shit. I guess that part of the truth never got shared.
“Yes. I offered her a place to live when she asked me to be her fake boyfriend.” God, that sounds ridiculous. “She didn’t want to live with the roommate who betrayed her, so she’d been crashing on her brother’s couch.”
My parents don’t seem scandalized. After everything that happened, it’s harder than usual to shock them.
“You can still see her even if you don’t live together,” Mom says.
“I’m aware,” I say, “but it’s not happening.”
“Why? We know you care for each other.”
I’m too tired to refute any of this. I fell asleep quickly last night, but I woke up at three in the morning and reached for Zoe. She wasn’t there, of course. I barely slept the rest of the night.
The server sets a steamer on our table, and my mother puts a har gow on my plate.
“So, why aren’t you together?” she demands.
I really wish she’d give this up, but I know that’s too much to hope for.
My parents exchange a look that I can’t decipher.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Mom asks.
“It’s hot!” I snap, and immediately feel guilty. “Sorry.”
“You’re on edge because you miss her. You’d be more relaxed if she was here.”
I clench my jaw. Why is my mother doing this? I want her to share details from her week—so I can nod along and make the occasional comment—not give me a hard time about my choices. Why can’t we have a peaceful family meal?
Instead, I say, “I’m fine.”
She looks skeptical. “But you’d be better with Zoe, yes?”
I don’t reply. Would I be happier at this very moment? Sure, but in the long term, I know this is for the best. I don’t need those overwhelming feelings.
“Even though it ended tragically,” Dad says, “you don’t regret being with Ginny, do you?”
I shake my head. Of course I don’t regret that. Strange that both Gil and my parents have focused on regrets this weekend.
“I remember when you first told us about her,” Mom says. “We never forbid you from dating, but we weren’t happy that you were so serious about a girl. You were only a teenager.”
At least she isn’t trying to rewrite the past.
“But when we met her, we liked her very much. You were doing well in school, so how could we complain? We were just a little worried that she’d get pregnant before you finished your education and—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” I don’t need her to finish that sentence.
“I know losing her was very rough on you. Nobody should go through that when they’re so young, but…”
I’m not sure what point she’s trying to make, so I turn my attention to my food. Another steamer arrives, and I help myself to what’s inside.
“Listen to me!” Mom says sharply.
I can’t remember the last time she tried to stop me from eating. Because this is such a rare occurrence, I put down my chopsticks.
“I know you’re acting out of fear,” she continues, quieter now. “It makes sense, but it’s preventing you from having love, and I think you’ll come to regret it.”
I never expected my mother to sound like Gil, but here we are.
“I’ll consider it,” I say, because I know I won’t be allowed to eat otherwise.
As I drive home after dim sum, I try not to let my mother’s and Gil’s words ring in my head. When I park in my garage, I look over at the Miata. I haven’t driven it since Zoe and I went to the cidery. Which, as it turns out, was our downfall.
If only…
I know it’s no good to think like that. Those are the types of thoughts that used to keep me up at night, the guilt gnawing at me even though it wasn’t my fault.
If only she hadn’t gone out that evening.
If only I’d met her at the bus stop.
If only I’d sent her a long text, and she paused for a few seconds to read it before crossing the street.
But such thoughts have long since receded, and I know Ginny wouldn’t have expected me to be alone forever.
It’s been more than fourteen years since I last saw her, when she kissed me goodbye before going to meet her friends, but I remember how it felt to be in love.
And yeah, I’m in love with Zoe.
That doesn’t matter, a voice in my brain hisses as I step inside the front door.
I put on my slippers and shuffle toward the kitchen. My body aches. My house still feels too large and empty. She’s gone, but there are signs that she was once here.
The small Christmas tree, for starters.
Then, of course, there’s the horrific mug that’s now inexplicably in my hands.
I ought to use a plain mug for my tea, but for some reason, this is the one I pulled out of the cupboard without thinking.
Just like how on Friday, I made enough coffee for two people, even though Zoe has been gone since the first of the month.
After starting the kettle, I set the mug on the counter and press a hand to my chest, as if that will be enough to stop the pain.
I know very well that it won’t, but I do it all the same because I’m desperate.
I can barely stand to be in my own skin; it’s a struggle to get through each day.
It takes far too much effort just to get out of bed, and when I force myself to work out, to push myself as hard as I can, it’s never enough to distract me.
I wonder what Zoe’s doing now. Is she decorating a tree and singing Christmas carols in her new apartment? Hanging out with her brother? Plotting revenge against me?
I kind of hope she’s doing that, but somehow, I doubt she is.
I pour boiling water into this atrocity of a mug and head up the stairs to her old bedroom. I haven’t been in here since she left. At first, I think there’s no indication that she was ever in this room, but then I see it.
The calendar.
It’s on December, but I flip back to November and note that she’s drawn little hearts on a few of the days. She didn’t write any words, but I don’t need words to know the significance of the days she marked.
I run my thumb over those hearts. Hearts that represent something real between us, not something fake. Then I grip the edge of the desk, barely able to stand.
God, I miss her so much.
I thought if I said no, it would hurt briefly, but I’d avoid the worst of the strong emotions that scare me, and I’d be able to move on in a few weeks.
Clearly, I was wrong.
It’ll take a long, long time to get over Zoe.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and for the first time in ages, I wonder what Ginny would tell me to do.
I know, immediately, that she’d say I’m being ridiculous, that life is about having strong feelings. She might even use the word “regret.”
And it does seem ridiculous that I’d throw this away. I don’t have to be in pain right now; this is a fixable problem.
Assuming Zoe still wants to be with me, of course.
But I will try.