Page 102 of What It's Like in Words
“What else?” I ask. He is the band around my wrist.
“You’re the victim of your own story. You apologize all the time and you think that makes you nice but it makes you manipulative.You never say what you mean. You’re passive-aggressive. You never give me the benefit of the doubt. You accuse me of things that you do yourself. You don’t talk about your feelings; you don’t talk about what you’re afraid of; you don’t talk about your issues. You’re a hypocrite.”
“Are you finished?”
“Do you want me to be? Because you’re enjoying this, I think.”
I laugh, and his tone softens; we are like waves in the ocean moving back and forth.
“Look, last night I was just stressed and—”
“You’re always stressed.”
He stands and walks toward me, but I hold out my palm and halt him by the coffee table.
“Fine. I’m a big stressy nightmare. I’ll do better,” he says with a sigh.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“We’re not even going to try?”
“We have tried.”
“Ihaven’t tried!”
“That’s not my problem.”
He lifts his arms then drops them. “Fuck, why are you being such a—”
“Such a what?”
He doesn’t answer; he just looks to the ceiling like he needs a moment to recharge. But I don’t give it to him. I don’t need to do anything for him anymore. I don’t need to becoolorfunnyornice. I move past him into the kitchen and continue: “This isyourproblem. You only care about people when they’re useful to you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means that you love me until you don’t. You’ve just comein here and told me that you’re happy with your book and you’re thirty-seven and all that shit andnowyou want me. People are people. They’re not things you can pick up and put down. You want meright nowbut tomorrow I’ll say or do something that doesn’t serve you and you’ll lose your temper again!”
“People fight, Enola. It’s not a big deal. And yes, thanks for pointing it out, I can be selfish sometimes, but you’re the one who got insecure and sensitive and stopped being able to laugh at anything.”
“I didn’t stop laughing, you just stopped being funny. And I was right to be insecure because youdidhook up with Steph!”
I face the stove, thinking about his hands in her black hair, her thin lips on his neck, the words he said to her in the dark.You’re the only one who understands me, Steph.I hear him inhale on his vape pen like it’s his inhaler. I turn back and notice how red his face is and the thickness around his waist.
He rubs his mouth. “Steph and I happened when you were with someone else, so it shouldn’t really concern you. I didn’t even need to tell you and I’m really wishing that I hadn’t, to be frank.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t backtrack.”
“No, Iamsorry that I lied. But youareinsecure, Enola.”
“If you think someone’s insecure, then you reassure them! You don’t double down!”
“I’m not going to pander to people,” he says, matter-of-fact, the same tone he used when he told me that his dad advised him to prioritize himself in a relationship.
“It’s not pandering, it’s kindness, and I’ve spent years feeling like I wasn’t good enough or loved enough, so why would I put myself through more of that just so you can feel like you don’t have to pander to anyone?”
