Twenty-Seven
There aren’t enough empanadas in the world for this kind of hurt.
I’ve torn through five of them just this morning, but somehow, I feel even worse. As soon as I woke up, last night’s events crashed over me like a tidal wave, choking the breath from me all over again.
He almost ended everything. I keep replaying that night when Theo visited the library during book club over and over. The surprise that bloomed in my chest when I caught sight of him. The dread that seeped into my veins when I read his text.
He’d already made up his mind to end things. My heart races just imagining how different everything would be if he had. I’d mark yet another person who walked out of my life without a second thought, but I’d get over it. I always did, didn’t I?
But I did get a second thought. Without even trying, I changed Theo’s mind.
What am I supposed to make of that?
I let out a groan and bite into a bright pink concha because I ran out of empanadas. What did I do on my weekends before Theo came into my life? I walk into my home library and scan the bottoms of every bookshelf, where I store all my unread books. Grabbing a small stack, I return to the couch in the living room and read a chapter in each book hoping one hooks me. When none do, I return to the shelves again to repeat the process.
I call Angela when nothing sticks, but when I realize I’ll have to tell her about last night, I hang up before she has the chance to answer. I’ll recount the tale to her tomorrow when she drags me out for our standing Sunday walk. I’m already dreading what she’ll say to me.
I’m still grappling with what to do an hour later, when there’s a knock on my door. I freeze, dreading who could be on the other side. If it’s Angela, I suppose I’ll have to buck up and confess last night’s horrendous events. If it’s Ben, I’ll close the door in his face before he can utter a single word. But if it’s Theo…
I sneak a peek through the peephole, and chills run down my back. When I open the door, Theo’s standing before me, his hair and clothes as disheveled as my soul feels. Dark circles ring his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in days even though only a night has passed.
“I’m not staying for long, I just wanted to give you this,” he says before handing me a key. My brows furrow as I look down at it. I immediately recognize the shape—it’s a key to the lecture hall of the library. “We never got to the surprise part of the date. It’s waiting for you in a box under the table.”
“You can return it, if you want,” I tell him, my voice hollow. I’d completely forgotten about the surprise he’d mentioned last night. “I can pick it up on Monday and—”
“I don’t want it back,” he tells me, eyes imploring. “It’s yours, okay? It doesn’t matter what happens with us. I just want you to have it.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. When he turns to leave, it takes everything I have to hold myself back from asking him to stay. But we can’t go back to the way things were. Not when he’s laid himself bare, and I’m holding on to all my fear. Not when everything about our relationship has changed. Just as I’m about to shut the door, he turns back around, something like determination shining in his eyes.
“This isn’t over for me,” he says, stunning me all over again. I open my mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give me the chance. “I’m still in this, Marcela. You might not believe we have a chance, but I do. I wish I could prove that to you with more than words. I wish I knew how to make you trust us.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut.
“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I won’t force you,” he says. “I meant what I said to you weeks ago when all this first started. I’m rooting for you to get the happily ever after you deserve, even if it’s not with me.” He meets my eyes across the hallway. “Tell me what you need from me.”
“I—” I take in a breath. Let it out slowly as he steps closer. “I don’t know.”
He shuts his eyes, his expression pained. “Does that mean this is over?”
Over. That was an inevitability, wasn’t it? But I hate that the onus is on me. I hate that I can’t meet him where he is, that I can’t return his trust. That I can’t trust how happy he makes me without waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Can you try?” His hand is in my hair, beckoning me closer. “Is there any part of you that wants to try?”
“Of course there is,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m scared of how much I don’t trust this feeling to last.” I shake my head, try and fail to blink back the moisture in my eyes. “If we try this and it doesn’t work, it’ll break me. More than ending it with you now is breaking me.”
My eyes search his face like I’m seeing it for the last time. His blond hair sticking up at odd ends, the lines around his mouth as it sets into a frown, the deep, indigo depths of his eyes. I memorize every inch of him—the slumped set of his shoulders, the wrinkles in his T-shirt, those strong arms that feel like home.
There’s nothing more to say, so he turns around again. I watch his back as he leaves, wondering if he’ll turn around one last time before he makes it to his car. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. I’m frozen still as his car shakes to life, watching as he pulls out of the lot and then out of view.
For the last time.
On Monday morning, I’m an hour early for work. I pace the hallway of the lecture hall, spinning the keyring around my fingers, contemplating how much more damage this will do to me. I’m a complete wreck in black leggings that barely pass for pants and a baggy jacket, my poor attempt at a Hail Mary against a dress code violation. Not that I care. My main concern is whatever this “surprise” from Theo could be.
I jump when the front door opens on the ground floor, but when I look down from the balcony, I catch sight of Angela’s curly head. She spots me from the foyer, and something in my expression must be pitiful enough for her to grant me some measure of mercy after the onslaught of her interrogation on Sunday. Instead of asking any more questions I can’t answer, she asks one I can.
“How ya holdin’ up?”
“Bad,” I tell her, gesturing at my outfit. “Obviously.”
She nods as if this is, in fact, obvious. “Did you find it yet?”
I assume she means the surprise. The knowledge that she was the one who helped Theo plan the date only makes this worse. She might be my best friend and her love might be unconditional, but I’m flooded with shame. Shame that she might think I’m a terrible person for rejecting him, especially after he put in all that hard work to make the night special. I turn back to the lecture hall door, then back to Angela with a shrug. “No, still working up the nerve.”
“Want me to come with?” she offers.
I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
When I reach the door of the lecture hall, I pull it open and flip the lights on inside. I spot the cardboard box immediately, but it’s not so easily moved. My knees wobble just from trying to lift it off the floor. Why is it so heavy? I want to know, but I also don’t. Whatever is inside, I know it’s far more than I deserve.
So instead, I give up.
I go about the rest of my day as if there isn’t a large box upstairs with my name on it. When Angela asks me about the surprise, I tell her it was too heavy to lift. She promises to help me move it at the end of the day, but by the time her shift ends, we’ve both forgotten all about it. Or at least, she has. It sits in the back of my mind, haunting every task until the day ends.
Two whole days pass before the damned thing makes it into the trunk of my car, and from there a handful of days before it finds its final home underneath my desk. If I open it now, I’ll have an excuse to call Theo and thank him for the gift, but I’ll also be one step closer to the end. If I don’t open it, the mystery of his last message to me will remain unanswered, but on some level it also means we’re not over yet.
This isn’t over for me, he’d said.
But it is for me. It was for him at one point, too, until he changed his mind. What will it take, I wonder, for me to change mine?