Take Me, Outlaw(48)

I don't know, Jared, can you do anything I thought, the words themselves wavering and distorting in the burning wreckage of my mind. You're clearly hoping this scene will magically end with me somehow liking you anyway, so you can leave with a clear conscience and a song in your heart.



Will you skip straight over to her apartment, so you can celebrate together about your newfound “freedom” and fuck triumphantly without the fear of discovery? Will she ask how I took the news, and whether I'm okay? Will she care?



Can you at least be the lawyer I need you to be in this moment, Jared? Can you play the part of the dashing and charismatic attorney so that this will somehow all seem like it'll be okay? Can you do that for me, Jared? If you couldn't love me enough to keep your dick in your pants and act like a real boyfriend after four years, can you at least do this?



Or are you a lousy lawyer, just like you were a lousy lay?



That last thought snapped me back to reality, as I realized what a cheap charge that would be to hurl at him. Too shrewish and predictable, too easy for him to shake off as just something girls lie about during bad break-ups.



Our break-up, my thoughts twirled nauseatingly, the words doubling and tripling like something seen through a kaleidoscope. Our break-up. Not some tear-jerking thing we saw together in a movie or a TV show, but our own, and had I really never seen this coming? Had I really spent the past four years so certain of the outcome, so sure that the only way this could possibly end was with a ring presented on one knee and a ceremony filled with teary-eyed relatives and a Happily Ever After?



Yes, it turned out. I had been exactly that certain, the same way I was certain that the sun would come up with each new morning. I had never doubted it, not once, not even during our rare fights, and not even secretly.



And suddenly, I realized that I didn't hate him. I wanted to, and I could find so many different ways and reasons to, but ultimately, I couldn't. Instead, I could only hate myself for being so naive, for letting myself believe in bullshit fairy tales.



All of these wild and noisy thoughts stampeded across my mind in the space of seconds—deafening and destroying everything in their path. I didn't say any of them out loud. Instead, I inhaled and tried to form the words with my numb and trembling lips. “Please, just...tell me why.”



He blinked again, looking dazed, as though this simple question was the one thing he hadn't expected me to ask. How could I not want to know why he'd do this to me? How could he be so damn surprised that I would demand an answer to that? After all these years, how could he know so little about me?



Because he doesn't care, another voice in my head answered briskly, with a sound like a purse primly snapping shut. You've just wasted four years on someone who simply does not care. And each new minute that ticks away while you stand here asking stupid questions is yet another minute of your life you've wasted. He won't give you any magical answers that will put all of this into focus, because he doesn't have any.



Why did he do it? Because he wanted to. He wanted her.



And he doesn't want you anymore.



Period.



Jared was still stammering and struggling with his answer, his words echoing hollowly against the ones in my mind. “Well, it's not...I mean, it's not you, obviously. It’s not that I think she's, y'know, better than you are, or, or anything like that...it's just she's, y'know...different, I guess...”



Again, I wanted so badly to put my hands on him, to wrap my fingers around his throat and shake him and choke him until he vomited all of his words out at once, just so I wouldn't have to watch them drip from his mouth one at a time like foul gray water leaking from a toilet pipe.



“I mean, she's...not...an actress, y'know?”



Now it was my turn to blink, confused. “What's that got to do with anything? What, is it a problem for you now, that I'm an actor?” I realized that I'd automatically corrected him for the hundredth time, without even meaning to this time.



Ever since we'd first met and I told him what I wanted to do with my life—how important theater was to me—he'd casually referred to me as an “actress” no matter how many times I pointed out that the word was chauvinistic and derogatory.



“A female actor is still an actor,” I used to insist patiently, confused when he'd invariably respond by laughing and shaking his head and kissing my forehead. I used to think this was some private joke of his, a way to gently rib me.



It wasn't, the prim voice said again with its snapping-shut sound of finality. He wasn't repeating it as a joke. He just didn't care. He didn't remember and he didn't care, because you were simply not important to him.



He exhaled slowly, squinting at the question as though it were a complicated math problem he hadn't studied for. “Yes-s-s-s-s-s...?” he drawled hesitantly, cocking his head and pursing his lips. I thought about how satisfying it would be to ball up my fist and send it directly into those too-red lips, mashing them against his teeth, replacing the quaking uncertainty in his mouth with the shocking taste of coppery blood.



But that wasn't me. Never had been, and I knew it. My hand remained limp at my side, blood gathering in my fingertips until they felt as though they were small lead weights.



“I mean, she...works with me, y'know?” Jared added, spreading his arms with the palms upward in the universal gesture of “Hey, what can I do, here, right?”



Nothing, Jared. You can't do anything. Or at least, you can't do it well.



“She's a lawyer, we, um...we have that in common, and, and at the end of the day, we can talk to each other about how our day went, and we'll, y'know, understand each other, and be able to really be there for each other, right? I mean, hey, you get that, right?” he asked hopefully, his eyebrows raising with his inflection.



He must have seen how unconvinced I looked because he pushed on, his words running together nervously. “I mean, ever since college ended, we haven't, y'know, had that much in common...like, I'm always talking about legal stuff that I'm sure you don't understand, and you probably even find it boring, right? I mean, I would, anyone would, if that weren't, ah, y'know, what they were interested in. And you with all of your constant audition talk, and I mean, obviously all of that's over my head, too...”



“I understood the legal stuff,” I heard myself say through gritted teeth. “I understood it perfectly, because I paid attention. I cared about what you cared about, because I cared about you. As for my 'constant audition talk,' maybe it was all over your head because you never bothered to actually listen to me.”



I could feel my voice rising sharply, out of my control like a dog that's broken free of its leash, bounding down the street now, far beyond my ability to rein it in. I didn't care. “Maybe while I was sharing my thoughts and feelings with you, you were too busy planning what you were going to say next, or fantasizing about who you'd prefer to be fucking!”



Jared flinched then, as though he was afraid I'd slap him, and in that moment I realized how deeply I hated him. I knew that he would never be someone who would protect me or take care of me when I needed him to. He'd only ever be a squirming mess of selfishness and insecurity—someone who would always demand the protection and comfort of others without the ability to ever offer any in return.



I suddenly felt exhausted and drained. There was nothing left inside of me except despair, and I knew that Jared could say nothing, do nothing that would ever make this feeling go away. I wanted him to be gone.



“Just go, Jared,” I sighed, my voice hoarse and weary.



His lower lip trembled, and a tear actually spilled down his cheek. Oh, you self-absorbed fucker. What do you have to cry about? When this is over, you get to go spend tonight—and every other night—in her arms. I'll be alone.



Alone. Jesus. I haven't been alone in four years. I don't even know who I'll be when I'm alone now. I don't know if I can do this.



Jared took a baby-step forward, spreading his arms again like some awkward bird about to attempt flight. “Listen, Lauren...”



“Listen?” I shrieked, finally unable to control myself any longer. He took two steps back and almost tripped over his own feet, his arms raising in front of his face as though attempting to ward off some evil spirit. “Why, Jared? Why should I listen? You think you can somehow still be the good guy here? You think this will end with a big hug, and I'm going to wish you love and happiness with the girl you've been with behind my back? Is that really how you think this is going to go? Because if that's what you think, you are goddamn fucking delusional, and you never really knew me at all!”



Jared twitched and jittered with each new expletive hurled at him, as though he was being blasted to pieces by a machine gun.



“Now get out!” I screamed, mustering the last of my strength to banish him. “If you want her so bad, then go be with her, because I never want to see you again!”



He skittered to the door, fleeing, letting it slam behind him.



I suddenly felt so close to fainting that I reached out for my kitchen counter, steadying myself. I heard a high-pitched buzzing, and it took a moment for me to realize that the sound wasn't in my head. It was my cell phone, vibrating next to my hand. I picked it up, still feeling numb from the shock of the confrontation, and checked the caller ID on the screen: “Royce - Agent.”