Two shadows having sex.
Two shadows of two people where one who meant the world to me had taken my hopeful heart, tore it out with reality, and left it to bleed out alone on the street.
I’d stalked her for long enough.
I’d seen enough to understand I no longer stood a chance.
As their birthday night of fucking finished, and their bedroom light went out, I turned and walked away.
I was twenty-eight.
She was eighteen.
And it was over.
I sent a prayer for her eternal happiness—the only thing I could give her for her birthday—and walked away.
I didn’t go back.
CHAPTER TEN
DELLA
2018
I SLEPT WITH him.
How could I?
How could I sleep with someone when my heart still belongs to another?
How can I be so cruel by leading David on when I might never be able to return his feelings?
I have no answers for you. I have no answers for me.
The blistering truth is, the night I slept with him, I sat in the shower once he was asleep and sobbed my damn eyes out.
The worst part?
I felt like I owed him when really, I wasn’t ready.
He was so sweet, taking me out for a birthday burger and fries. So understanding when he let me list each and every diner Ren had taken me to, including the last one when he’d agreed to let me get a tattoo—the same tattoo I can’t look at now without wincing with agonising regret.
He was so gentle as he took me home, kissed me, and asked if he could give me my present in his bedroom.
It wasn’t an invitation for sex even though he’d touched me all night—grazing his hand with mine, kissing my cheek when I made him laugh about my five-year-old birthday and the incident at school about skinning Frosty the bunny.
Natty gave me a Cheshire cat grin when we returned, and David guided me up the stairs with our hands entwined. She winked and gave me a big thumbs-up as she slowly vanished from view as I reached the landing. Her encouragement made me feel semi-normal, as if entering David’s room wasn’t a direct slap in the face of Ren’s memory.
But Ren wasn’t here.
Ren had never kissed me the way David had.
Ren had never been interested in me the way David was, so I did my best to push him from my mind and planted a grateful kiss on David’s lips as he gave me a jade green scarf and matching nail polish for my birthday.
That kiss turned to another.
Which evolved to another and another until the nail polish and scarf fell to the carpet and David whispered, “I want you. Do you want me?”
His voice wavered with uncertainty and need; a potent combination of authority and fear. Knowing he was as terrified as I was allowed me to be braver than I might’ve been. It allowed me to thank him in one of the only ways I could.
I nodded—not trusting my voice—and moved toward the bed.
As he stripped me, kissed me, touched me, rolled on a condom, and slid inside me, I did my best to keep my heart and mind with him.
But I wasn’t successful.
For weeks, I’d hoped I would be able to move on, that the gentle affection I had for David would suddenly explode into the all-encompassing craving I’ve had for Ren for as long as I can remember.
But the simmer never became a burn.
If anything, it grew less and less as I acknowledged that I wasn’t ready for anyone who wasn’t Ren. I wasn’t being fair because I was so far from the realm of being okay it was laughable.
The sex was fine.
But his hugs made me empty, and his kisses made me lost.
Afterward, David spooned me and my chest ached unbearably. My tears slowly trickled inside me until they clogged my throat with silence. And when his breathing finally slipped into slumber, and I was free to be honest with myself, I tore out of his embrace, bolted to the bathroom, and barely contained my grief as I wrenched on the shower and hurled myself under the hot spray.
My theory was the water would hide any escaped sobs and camouflage the sadness pouring down my cheeks.
To be honest, I didn’t even know why I cried.
It wasn’t like I’d cheated on Ren. It wasn’t like I had any other sexual experience to judge other than sleeping with David on Natty’s bedroom floor.
I was eighteen and so messed up by the boy who’d raised me that I was a wreck after having such a lovely evening with a man anyone would be lucky to date.
But you know what?
You know what I’ve kept tucked inside where all dark, disturbing secrets live?
The real reason I cried that night?
It was because I felt him.
I’ve felt him for weeks.
Every day, the sensation of him being close gets worse.
Eyes everywhere.
On the street, in my class, in my dreams.
A yearning that matches mine. A pleading that mirrors mine.
And I know it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, but dammit, I have this feeling that if I turn quickly enough, I’ll catch Ren behind me. This constant awareness that if I just breathe his name, he’ll miraculously appear, just won’t let me move on.
I’m stuck in limbo.
I’m becoming unhappier instead of happier.
I’m becoming lost instead of found.
And I need to do something…soon, because if I don’t, I’m afraid of what I’ll become.
I say I’m strong, but the reality is, dear assignment, I’m not.
I’m brittle and fragile and made of spun glass where my insides are nothing more than swirling smoke looking for a crack to escape, to hitch a ride on the wind, to fly into the forest, desperate to find the boy who stole my heart and beg him to make me whole again.
*
Six months.
Six eternally long months.
Nothing much has happened. I haven’t slept with David again. Things are a little weird, but we continue to co-inhabit well enough.
I haven’t had the energy to write.
But something changed, and I have news.
Funny, how honesty is always the worst weapon, isn’t it?
I’ve turned to you as a sounding board because I have no one else to talk to. Natty is on David’s side—as she should be. David is doing his best to date me—as he should with our history. And all along, I keep my secrets until I can tell you.
Normally, I write on a park bench while waiting for the bus after school, or in a coffee shop during lunch hour, but the other night, I stupidly left my computer on standby in the lounge, not password protected like normal, and David read everything.
He saw what I wrote about sleeping with him.
He saw how sad I was.
How empty and angry and confused.
I offered to leave, but David didn’t kick me out. He didn’t walk away from me, but he has withdrawn his offer of dating.
He said it was his fault to push for something he knew I wasn’t ready for. That he understands I’m not over Ren, but will continue to support me as a friend.
He’s correct, of course, but having him confront me so calmly with no blame or ridicule made me feel even worse.
He knows what it’s like to love and not be loved in return, and to my utmost horror, I’ve done it to him again. Not that he’s in love with me, but there is something there. Something that could become something, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, I’m running out of time, my Uber will be here soon, and I’m taking you to my old apartment. I’m going to print off every stupid word and burn you like I should’ve done the moment I knew I couldn’t hand you in.
I’ve told David I’m having the afternoon away to get my head and heart on the same page. That I’ll return in better shape and ready to stop moping around his house.
My printer is still gathering dust in my old room.
The clothes I don’t wear still in my wardrobe.
The bed I don’t sleep in still waiting for a dreamer.
It’s time, don’t you think?
Time to stop this—all of it. Time to cancel the lease on somewhere I’m not living, time to patch up the heart I’m not using, and finally put the past where it belongs.
Behind me.
Oh, my Uber is here.
I had other things to say, but I suppose they’re unimportant now.
Farewell, assignment.