I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. My chest feels tight and warm, and I want to believe everything he’s saying. I want to forgive him, and go home with him. Forget the last three days of misery I’ve caused myself.
He continues when I don’t respond. “Come on, babe. I love you. Come home with me?”
Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I blew it out of proportion.
Nathaniel loves me. I know he does. He’s stayed by my side all these years. He bought a house with me. We got a dog together.
He loves me.
He isn’t my dad. He’s not going to leave me.
4
TRAVIS
Present
They say everything happens for a reason. That you’re never given more than you can handle. Totrust the process. Well, I don’t know who‘they’are, butdisrespectfully, they can go fuck themselves.
Without lube.
Five years. Actually, five years and four months, to be exact.
That’s how long I wasted my time on someone who, at one point, I thought I’d spend my life with. And by at one point, I mean, up until three days ago. Nathaniel Perry came gliding into my life on his magic carpet of lies and deceit during our senior year of college. One public speaking class and several late nights later, he had weaved his way into my heart, holding on for dear life with his promises of a future I so desperately craved. That, and his magical tongue. He knew all the right things to say to win me over. Knew all my insecurities and how to manipulate me.
Now, I admit, we moved fast; always spending the night at the other’s houses, weekends frequently enjoyed on the lake or in the mountains, hikes at sunrise, and getting drunk under the stars while talking about the future. When graduation came, it was a no-brainer. We combined our savings for an apartment, taking that next step in our relationship without hesitation. The mundane, everyday tasks became thrilling; grocery shopping together, adopting a dog and bringing her on walks every morning and night, holidays with each other’s families.
The first time we said“I love you”was shortly after we moved in together. Neither of us cooked. We were freshly graduated twenty-three-year-old guys who had spent the last four years drinking their body weight in cheap beer and surviving off Top Ramen and sub sandwiches. We wanted to celebrate getting our new place, so we decided to try our hand at cooking an extravagant dinner. The stove caught fire, the sprinklers in the entire complex turned on, and the fire department was called. It was a disaster.
We ended up getting takeout, grabbed a six-pack of beer from the convenience store, and laid blankets and pillows out on our teeny-tiny back deck, eating and drinking while searching for the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt. Despite the chaos of what had just happened, nothing had ever felt more perfect. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even process what I was saying, and he said them back like he meant them.
And for years, I believed him.For years, I had blinders on, desperately needing and wanting a love I thought he wanted to give me. I wanted it so badly, I ignored every sign trying to warn me. Because when Nathaniel was there, when he wasin thiswith me, he made every single red flag look like Six Flags.
After picking the wrong guy over and over again all throughout high school and college, being second best or someone’sjust for tonight, finally finding someone who pickedmeand said all the right things felt like a breath of fresh air. It felt right.
The visual of Nathaniel getting plowed against our bed the other afternoon is burned into my memory, and no matter how much I try to erase it, it won’t go away. After I grabbed Nova and a few of my belongings and hightailed it out of our neighborhood quicker than a crackhead running from the cops, I called my best friend from college, Xander. Thankfully, he lives a few minutes into town, and he let me crash with him. Which is exactly where I’ve been since.
Haven’t gone to work. Haven’t showered. Haven’t really done anything except sulk in Xander’s spare bedroom, questioning how I seem to have the worst luck when it comes to relationships and love.
Knock, knock.
Rolling over, I tug the blankets up to my chin, knowing Xander is coming in whether I tell him to or not. The white wood door creaks as it opens, his sock-covered feet barely making a sound as he crosses the room, then the bed dips as he sits on the edge. He doesn’t say anything for long moments, probably wondering how best to deal with me.
I feel him scoot along the end of the bed until his back connects with the wall the bed is pushed up against. The distinct sound of a lighter flicking to life reaches my ears moments before the earthy scent of weed fills my nostrils.
“Sit up and smoke this with me,” he grunts out in between hits.
Rolling my eyes, I do as he says, keeping the blanket on my lap as I rest my back against the wall opposite him. Xander hands me a lime green and blue swirl pipe, along with his red BIC. His features soften as our eyes connect, but he doesn’t say anything until I’ve taken a hit.
“Cash and I broke up before I moved here,” he says quietly.
Xander moved from Pullman to Desert Creek a few months ago when he finished his grad program. Cash was his roommate all through the program, and they casually dated almost the whole time. I knew Cash from back when I went to Washington State University for undergrad. He was in the frat I went to frequently for parties.
Passing him back the pipe, I say, “Well, figured you guys broke up, but I didn’t want to ask. Seemed like a touchy subject.”
Xan nods, bringing the pipe up to his lips, lighting the bowl. “It kind of was for a while, but I’m over it now, I think.” Smoke leaves his mouth in thick clouds. “But I just wanted you to know, that while Cash and I were never as serious as you and Nathaniel, I can still empathize.”
“What happened?” I ask. “With you and Cash.”
