10. Ari
TEN
ARI
The door slams shut behind me, only to fly open again with just as much force when Will follows me inside.
I want to tell him not to follow me, but if I open my mouth right now, I’ll either scream or beg, and I refuse to give him either right now. It’s all I can do to keep my breaths steady as I storm to the bedroom.
“Slow down, Ari. Let me explain?—”
I don’t slow down or give him even a second of my attention so he can try to rationalize his behavior. I go straight to the bedroom and yank my suitcase from the corner of the closet. My hands are shaking as I flip it open on the bed.
Will stops short. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I say, expending far too much energy keeping my voice level. It’s a seething kind of calm. The calm before the storm. Riding a dangerous edge right before everything shatters and I lose my ever-loving shit kind of calm.
“Why are you packing?”
A dark laugh threatens the edge of my sanity as I start pulling clothes from the drawers. Shirts. Jeans. Whatever my hands land on first. I don’t fold anything. I just shove it in.
“I’m leaving.”
That finally gets him.
“What do you mean, leaving? Ari. Where do you think you’re going?”
I turn on him then, unable to stop myself. Is he fucking serious? “Where do I think I’m going? Do you even hear yourself?”
He blinks rapidly, the color in his face draining. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… Where are you going?” He asks, calmer this time.
“I’m going to New York. Alone.”
“What?”
“I’m done, Will. I can’t—” I gesture vaguely between us, my chest tight, my throat burning. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, eyes wide with disbelief. Did he really think I would continue to let his shit slide? Does he not see how much he’s hurting me?
“H—How long?” He stutters. His eyes start a rapid-fire back-and-forth motion that I recognize. He thinks he might be able to negotiate his way out of this.
I pause, then shrug, because I honestly don’t know. “Until Jesse’s ready for whatever comes next, I guess. Until I can breathe again. I need to breathe, Will.”
“You need space?”
“Yes, I need space,” I spit incredulously. “I’ve told you I need space. I keep telling you.”
“B—But you said you needed space, and then you…”
A wave of humiliation pulses through me, heating my already boiling blood. Will has gone pale, but I feel like I must be beet red from head to toe, because every part of me is burning with shame.
“That didn’t mean anything,” I say, my voice flat. Echoing the sentiments he’s used to assuage one or both of us in the past. The words that chipped away at my heart little by little, every time I heard them.
I can see the hit he takes when I throw his words back at him. His eyes shutter like he took a physical hit. But instead of making me feel bad for him, this wounded puppy look he’s wearing only fuels the fire.
“You’re upset?—”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Ari, baby. Come on. Let’s just talk about this.”
“ Baby ?” I spit back at him. “Really? Fuck you, Will.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“Was it ever?” I stare at him for a long moment, letting him see the full brunt of my anger. He needs to see how serious I am, and my anger is better than sadness. I’d rather show him rage than let him see me break. “Was last night fair?”
“I tried to—” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, like he’s trying to choose the least wrong thing to say and realizes he has nothing.
I keep packing.
“You can’t do this,” he says finally, his voice low, strained. “You can’t just leave.”
“I absolutely can. And you can’t control me,” I shoot back.
“I’m not trying to control you.”
I slam a drawer shut. “Then what the fuck do you call what you’ve been doing, huh? Because I would really love an explanation.”
He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t.
“Come on, Will. You wanted to talk. So talk—tell me why.”
Nothing.
I feel something inside me crack, and I know if I don’t hurry this along, I’m going to fall to pieces. And I can’t do that. Not when the one person who always held me together is the one breaking me.
Slowly, I turn to face him.
“Last night…” I clear my throat, trying to cover the shaking in my voice.
“I just wanted to go out and enjoy myself. To put everything that’s been clouding my mind to rest and have fun.
” I close my eyes, and feel a tear fall down my cheek.
“For the first time in forever, I felt good about myself. I felt confident. Someone that I noticed, noticed me back. Someone wanted me.”
His jaw tightens.
“And then you… You took that from me.” I take a shaky breath. “You humiliated me. And not just because you pulled some bullshit and scared a guy off for the hundredth time. But because I was in there, waiting, wondering what I’d done wrong, if I’d just made a fool out of myself.”
“Ari—”
“You made me feel like I was something disgusting. Wrong. Deluded. Like I was stupid for ever thinking someone could want me.”
“I didn’t mean to—I’d never?—”
“You did though,” I snap. “What I don’t understand is why? Or how?” I demand. “How could you humiliate me like that? And then have the audacity to stand there and joke about it like it was nothing. How could you do that to me?”
Will drags a hand through his hair, pacing along the end of the bed like a caged animal. “I was just trying to protect you.”
“From what?!” I scream. “What the fuck do you think you’re protecting me from? From being touched? From being happy? From having any kind of validation that isn’t filtered through you?”
His head snaps up like he’s shocked by my words. Like he’d never.
But he did.
“Why?” I press, stepping closer now, the words pouring out faster than I can stop them.
“Why do you do this to me? You won’t let me be with anyone else, but it’s not like you want me.
Right? You hover. You interfere. You decide who gets near me and who doesn’t.
And then you…you let me humiliate myself even further by giving me just enough to make me think you care.
Like it’s a price you pay for something I need. ”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me what is,” I say quietly. “Because something is making you act this way. And do not tell me you’re protecting me, because I swear if you say that again I will burn this house down with both of us in it.
If you don’t want me to believe that it’s something wrong with me, you have to tell me what it is. ”
I swallow, and Will averts his eyes, like the truth might spill out if he meets my gaze.
“What do you want from me, Will!?” I scream, the last of whatever grip on my emotions I had giving way to pure heartache.
The pit in my stomach grows wider and wider while I wait for him to say anything.
The longer he stands there without saying a word, the more of what little hope I have gets sucked into the void.
I won’t tell him that sometimes I delude myself into thinking he feels things for me, too.
That he might want me the way I want him, and that’s why he won’t let anyone touch me.
But then he turns around and does something ridiculous or callous like this and all I can see is blind, possessive cruelty.
Is he confused about his feelings, or is he a narcissist? Maybe it’s both. Or maybe I’m so hopelessly in love with him that I’d take anything he gave me if he’d just admit there’s something there.
“You don’t want me, but you want to own me? Is that it?” I ask, my voice breaking. “What. Do. You. Want, Will? Or is making sure I’ll be alone and miserable my whole life the point?”
Will rears back like I’ve hit him. He looks like I took a baseball bat to his chest and knocked the air out of him completely.
Well now he knows how I felt this morning when I overheard him tell Blake he’d threatened Julien and left me in a vulnerable position to be humiliated.
I don’t get any joy out of seeing him hurt, but once again I’m taking the wrong kind of comfort from him. Because at this moment, I’m thankful not to be alone for even just a short while.
Will doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t answer any of what I asked of him, he doesn’t deflect or make any more excuses, and he doesn’t try to stop me.
And that’s really the answer, isn’t it?
I swallow what remains of my dignity and zip the suitcase closed.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper.
Airports are significantly less fun than chartered private jets. Which I totally could have taken, but I’m avoiding Blake and his determination to assign a babysitter for my alone time.
I’m tucked into a hard plastic chair near my gate, knees pulled up, phone balanced loosely in my hand.
I walked in, handed the attendant my credit card, and booked the first flight to New York.
I don’t even care if my luggage arrives at the same time, I just needed a departure time that didn’t give me time to think too much.
Today has felt several days long, but it’s somehow not even noon. The rideshare driver who picked me up was the same guy who drove me to the club last night. It felt a little like being kicked while I was down to smile and nod when he asked if I had a good time last night.
I avoided conversation with the driver by making some calls. I called the building manager for our condo to let them know I’d be coming last minute and to expect some deliveries. Then I ordered groceries and a few other essentials.
I texted Blake instead of calling him. I’m still not sure how involved he wants to be in our personal shit. He’s only been with us a few months, and while he’s nothing like Francis, I don’t exactly get the warm fuzzies from him.
Me: I’m taking some time. Will be in NY. Keep me updated. I’ll fly back for studio time if needed.
He called almost immediately, but I didn’t answer. I don’t know what to say.