36. Chapter 36
Beau
Stravaig (strah-vague)
Translation: To walk or stroll
Usage: To wander aimlessly at one’s leisure, especially at dusk
Everyone thought Tennyson was brilliant when he said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
I think his cornbread wasn’t done in the middle.
It’s been two weeks since Torin left in a blaze of fury.
Two weeks of sleeping badly, my ADHD hyperfocusing on replaying the cruel words we exchanged rather than my studies.
The things he said. The things I said back.
Over and over again. I keep meaning to get back to the things that used to shine bright with color—my work, the gym, camaraderie—but I only find gray, my mind sliding right past whatever is in front of me and landing on him.
I can’t recall a single word of a paragraph I’ve just read.
But I can replay that fight word for word on a loop that never seems to shut off.
And when that’s all your brain gives you, everything else starts to dull at the edges.
I drag my eyes back to the article in front of me.
Attempting to read about the messy love life of Mary, Queen of Scots isn’t helping.
But when I remember that her husband had her private secretary stabbed fifty-seven times right in front of her during dinner one night, it gives me some perspective.
She had it far worse than I do, so silver linings, I guess. Thanks, Mary.
I sigh and throw the paper down on my desk after my eyes move over the same paragraph for the eleventh time and retain exactly none of it.
Torin never comes to the shared office anymore.
I keep catching myself glancing up at the door when it opens, hoping he might walk in, drop his bag, and sit down like nothing happened.
He never does. And the rest of my classmates have noise-cancelling headphones, so no one notices my distress. Except Maeve.
I feel her looking before I see it. Another quick glance at me over her laptop, checking in. I give her a tight smile and look back down at my notes. I know that look—quirked lips, sad eyes, furrowed brow—but pity isn’t going to make these feelings go away, nor is it going to bring Torin back.
I scrub a hand over my face and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling for a second.
I need to do something else. Anything that isn’t this.
It’s late enough in the day here that The Pigeons should be awake by now.
I gave them the gist of the argument after it happened, and they were ready to hop on planes to comfort me, but I’d declined, told them absolutely not to come to Scotland, and I’ve avoided discussing Torin ever since. Maybe now’s the time.
I pick up my phone and shoot them a message.
Beau
I can’t focus - all I can think about is Torin and how I screwed it up.
Juliana
was wondering when you’d bring this up again
Juliana
and i’m not saying you’re perfect but there were two of you involved
Lucas
Truly, you may have said things you regret, but he was being irrational. Please don’t accept all the blame.
Juliana
did he ever tell you what made him so mad??
Beau
No, he blocked my number and ignores me completely when I try to talk to him at school.
Juliana
rude
Lucas
What do you want to do about it?
Beau
That’s the problem - I don’t know what to do. Tbh, I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.
Juliana
we can fly over and get you v drunk
Juliana
would that help?
Lucas
Yes! Have you tried martinis? They might be the answer!
Beau
I don’t think depressants are going to make the situation better, but I’ve always got a hankerin’ for bleu cheese olives.
Lucas
YAAAAAAAAS
Juliana
are we still saying yaaaaaaaaas or is that so last year?
Lucas
I’m still saying it. Can’t stop, won’t stop.
Beau
To be clear: We’ve earned 9 degrees between the three of us, and the best we can come up with for my situation is “drink martinis”?
Juliana
martinis with bleu cheese olives!!
Lucas
It really is a sad showing when you put it that way.
Beau
But maybe it just proves the point that there’s nothing to be done.
Lucas
I hate to agree with you because I know how much you care about him, but you can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to do.
Beau
And he doesn’t want to date me.
It seems I still haven’t hit the bottom of my well of sadness because the pain in my chest at that admission is wrenching. I’d thought it in my head but hadn’t said it to anyone else. And fuck, it hurts.
Juliana
i’m sorry pigeon
Juliana
we both think you’re a catch
Lucas
Big, huge sexy fish. Prize-winning catch. Any bird, pigeon or otherwise, would want to eat you.
Beau
Thanks, pigeons - going to try to get some work done now.
Lucas
Let us know if you change your mind about us coming for a visit.
Juliana
YAAAAAAAS
I sigh and drop my phone on my desk with a clatter. Closing my eyes, I put my hands on my head, and breathe, counting to ten in an attempt to clear my mind. When I reluctantly open my eyes, someone is sitting on the edge of my desk. I jerk back so fast, my chair skids, one leg lifting.
“Christ,” Maeve says, catching my flailing arm before I tip, “didn’t think you scared so easy.”
“Neither did I,” I say as my heartbeat tries to level out.
She grabs my hand and attempts to tug me out of my seat.
“Up,” she commands, straining like she might actually be able to haul me out of the chair by force.
“Maeve,” I warn.
“Up,” she repeats, teeth set now. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I glance at the papers spread across my desk. I’m not making any progress here. I might as well get some sun.
With a sigh, I let her pull me up. Her hand stays wrapped around mine as we head for the door. Wrong hand. Wrong person.
A pang of sadness and loss burns through my chest. I really thought that night in Inverness was a sign I was finally getting the love story I’d always wanted. Kissing Torin, holding his hand. It’d been perfect.
But I was deluded.
The Pigeons were right that our split wasn’t all because of me. I played my part, and even if the words I threw at Torin were based in truth, I still could’ve handled it better.
I swallow and pull my hand free of Maeve’s before I can sink even farther into my misery.
We walk out through the creaking doors of the old building to a warm spring day. The sun is shining, and the campus is more lush than I’ve ever seen it. But the blooming trees and gardens do little to bring me out of my haze.
Students pass us, laughing, arguing, living their lives like nothing’s broken. I try to match their pace, but my head is still stuck in the way things were two weeks ago.
I exhale slowly, dragging my gaze up to the skyline, instead. The stone, the spires, the ancient city around us giving me some much-needed perspective.
Edinburgh has been here for centuries.
I’m just one of an untold number of people who have walked this ground since humans first began living here during the Bronze Age, and I feel a connection with each of them.
No, my house wasn’t burned by an invading Viking horde or English army, but I’ve had my own experiences here, and I now have ties to this place.
“So, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Torin?” Maeve asks. She’s blunt, I’ll give her that.
“Picked up on that, did ya?”
“Hard not to,” she says with a wince. “You avoid each other like the plague, and you’ve been silent as the grave for a fortnight. Out with it, or I’ll have to poke you again.”
“No poking necessary,” I say, putting my hands up to defend myself from a potential attack. “We went on a date, and it didn’t work.”
She stops walking.
I take two more steps before I realize, then turn back to find her staring at me, finger raised in warning. “That’s not going to suffice, Tex.”
“What do you want me to say, Maeve?” I ask, frustration creeping into my voice.
“I want you to tell me what really happened,” she says. “Two people who went on a date that ‘didn’t work’ don’t suddenly pretend like the other isn’t in the room.”
I sigh, still unsure of what happened myself.
“If you don’t tell me,” she says, wiggling her finger, “I’ll have to assume it’s something really embarrassing.”
“Like what?” I ask, curious.
“Like, did you piss the bed?”
I laugh for the first time in two weeks. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“What then?” She brings up her other hand, a second finger poised for attack.
“Short version: he humored me, we went out, he decided it wasn’t for him, he left.” I manage to keep my voice from cracking, but it’s no easy feat. I turn and keep walking to have something to do.
“That’s it?” she asks as she jogs to catch up.
It’s not. It’s not even close. But it’s the version she’s getting.
“The specifics aren’t important,” I say, forcing my shoulders into something that resembles a shrug. “The fact is, Torin doesn’t want to date me.”
The admission hurts less this time than before. I need to make it my mantra until I come to terms with it.
Torin doesn’t want to date me. Torin doesn’t want to—
“And why the hell not?” she asks, throwing her arms up. “You’re perfect for each other.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask in genuine confusion.
“You are!” she yells, County Galway coming in hot. “You bring him out of his shell, he reins you in when you go charging off. You’re both smart and fit, and, as previously stated, you both think the other is too good for you.”
She makes some decent points, but she’s wrong on others.
“Maeve, I appreciate you, but Torin doesn’t think I’m too good for him. Pretty sure it’s the other way around. He said some things…” I trail off, not wanting to play his words back again for the millionth time.
“What did he say?” she asks, already bristling. “I’ll not have anyone talking shite about my American pet.”
I laugh again. It feels good. “Your American pet?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she says, waving a scolding finger. “What did Torin say to you?”
“It’s nothing,” I say. “It was all out of context anyway. I can’t be sure of anything.”
“Well, let me know if I ever need to have a little Celtic throwdown with him. I’ll poke the ever-living shite out of him.”
Another laugh escapes me, my mood improving with every step.
“Please don’t go poking anyone on my behalf,” I tell her and push her finger down.
She hums but doesn’t seem convinced.
“Really, it’ll be fine,” I say. “What I need to do is move on.” I glance ahead, fixing my eyes on the path instead of her. “Despite all the things we had in our favor, whatever we had is over. He’s committed to his studies, and I came here for a reason. I need to focus and let him do the same.”
Even after everything that happened, I want Torin to be happy. If research can give him what I can’t, then who am I to argue? I’m sure he knows what’s best for him, and I can’t keep wallowing like this. We both deserve better than the mess we made.
“If you’re sure, then I’ll not bother you about it,” she says, “but if you ever need to talk or just want some company, then you better tell me. I can’t endure those sad puppy dog eyes much longer without doing something about it.”
“I promise I’ll let you know if I need anything,” I say, pulling her into a side hug. “You’re a good friend, Maeve.”
“I am, aren’t I?” she says, wrapping an arm around me, leaning her head on my chest. After a few more paces, she releases me. “That’s enough of that. Now, onto happier subjects.”
We walk back toward the office, talking about summer plans and what we’ll do when we don’t have so much to read. It’s such a nice day that I almost forget for a few blissful minutes that I’m still in love with Torin.
Almost.