The Pact(93)
It doesn’t sound any clearer, any better. My mother seems as confused as I am. But then when I calm down she sits beside me and pats my knee.
“He’s hurting too, you know,” she says.
I shake my head. “Not like me.”
“You don’t know that sweetheart. I’ve seen that boy many times now. He loves you. He really does. But sometimes, when people have no real experience with using their hearts, it’s easy for them to get confused. It sounds like his relationship with James was a lot more complicated than you thought.”
I sip back the rest of the Scotch, finding small comfort in the burn. “They seemed fine. Linden sometimes felt James resented him…”
“And if he felt that, and James has been closer to him than his own family, he may feel he needs to do what he can to not have it be true. You can be like that too sometimes.”
I look at her sharply. “Like what?”
“Eager to please. Wanting approval. From us.”
I raise my brows but my mom just smiles warmly. “I know. I don’t blame you. It’s mostly our fault, I guess. With your brother…he demanded so much attention.”
“He was sick, mom.”
“I know. And Nate needed that attention. But you were sometimes pushed aside. We didn’t mean to do it. But we saw it happening and we just hoped that you’d grow up to understand.”
“I do understand,” I implore her.
“Just because you do, doesn’t mean it stops. Life leaves scars. Sometimes you don’t see them until later. Sometimes you don’t know where they’ve come from. Sometimes they fade before your eyes. But the world leaves its mark on us. Linden may not understand his.”
I sigh and sit back. “So what does this mean? What do I do?”
“I wish I knew sweetie. It sounds like he needs a friend. Do you think you could be his friend?”
“I want to,” I start but my heart sinks with sadness. “But I can’t. I know it’s selfish of me, but I just can’t. I’m in love with him. I can’t ever be his friend. He left his mark on me too deeply.”
“Sometimes you need to be selfish,” she says. “Want to stay for supper?”
“Sure,” I say, my stomach rumbling at the thought. I only ate a bag of rice crackers yesterday. “Where’s dad?”
“He’s napping?”
“Napping?”
She jerks her head in the direction of the bedroom. “Didn’t I tell you? He moved in last week.”
“What? I didn’t see his car outside.”
“It’s in the garage now.”
“So everything is back to normal?” I ask.
She smiles, her eyes crinkly and soft. “In this world, yes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LINDEN
Dead-man walking. That’s what it feels like. That’s what heartbreak, heartsmash, heartruin, feels like.
I’d never experienced it before. I hope I never do again.
And the funny thing is, I know I won’t. Because I won’t ever give my heart to anyone else. It belonged to Stephanie. It always will.
And because she has it, I am without one.
Deep, yeah maybe. But I’m in so much fucking sorrow, in so fucking deep, that there’s no coming out of it. There is just an endless pit inside me that keeps caving in. All day. Every day.
They say the nights are the hardest. I think the mornings are. Mornings are when I reach over in bed to hold her and grab nothing but air. Mornings are when no one scolds me for drinking orange juice out of the container. Mornings are when I make scrambled eggs for one, when I have no reason to drive into the Mission district, when I make too much coffee because I don’t know how to make any less.
Mornings are when I can’t kiss her goodbye.
I can’t kiss her ever again.
I lost her. I let go. Fully and completely.
All to appease my conscious. All to feel like I did nothing wrong.
I had conceded to James for the first time in my life and I’m beginning to think it was the wrong thing to start with.
It all came crashing down on me anyway.
A few days after I ended it with Steph, I couldn’t even bring myself to hang out with James. If he always resented me in some form, I was starting to resent him. I was starting to blame him for everything.
But it’s the day before Christmas Eve and he invites me over to his placet. He’s not working. He wants to have a drink, but obviously not at the Lion.
So I go over there. I bring a twelve-pack because that’s what buddies do.
The door is open. James lives in a rather shitty walk-up but he’s at least done a good job decorating the inside. Still, the neighborhood isn’t the nicest.
“Maybe you should lock your door, aye,” I tell him as I come inside and lock it behind me.