Page 82 of When the Walls Come Down
I called Casey on my walk home with Heath. He was amazing and told me not to worry as long as I got him the graphics by Wednesday.
After I packed my bags, Heath carried them all down to my clunker SUV that hadn’t been out of the parking garage since I’d arrived in San Francisco.
An odd sense of longing washed over me as I looked around my apartment. I’d only be gone a few days, but when I came back, everything would be different. Well, mainly just my relationship with the man next door, but he’d been such a huge part of my life for the last few weeks I didn’t know what that apartment would feel like without him.
My attention was drawn to the empty vase where my lilacs had once been. They’d long since died and I’d thrown most of them away.
However, at the foot of my bed, inside my mother’s trunk, sandwiched between two books, was one single lilac I’d never forget.
As I walked past his door on my way to the elevator, I debated stopping to tell him where I was going. We hadn’t left things in a good place, but I’d spent the last several days wondering where he was, and I hated to be a hypocrite. If I stopped though and had to see him, there was a good chance I’d never leave. I took the coward’s way out and went for a text.Me: Hey, I’m going to LA with Heath for a few days. I know things are weird right now, but I didn’t want you to worry. When I get back, we need to talk. Thanks for breakfast. You didn’t have to do that.It was not the weekend I’d thought it was going to be. I spent most of the day wandering around the neighborhood, and everywhere I went…there she was. The market. The library. The dry cleaner. The bench we’d sat on a few weeks earlier.
Eventually, I found my way to an electronics store and replaced my lost phone cord.
Yet, for hours after that, I still just couldn’t go home because I knew she’d be there even more. And just the thought of her being on the other side of the wall, only one door down, would make it too hard to stay away.
Impossible.
I hated the way things had been left between us in the alley, but there was this sinking feeling inside me that there was actually nothing I could do about any of it. Nothing I could say. Nothing I could change. Nothing I could erase from the fight.
She didn’t love me back. I hadn’t even said the words to her, but she had to know. People who are only lukewarm don’t just go heart-first into a mess like the one I’d made.
I could apologize, but I didn’t feel sorry for wanting her or a future with her. I was only sorry she didn’t feel the same way.
Finally, that afternoon, as I walked down our hall, I could have sworn I could smell her light perfume still in the air, but I told myself to get fucking used to it because she wasn’t going to be easy to get over. It would take a long time before the mark she’d left on me would scar, but that was my reality.
Inside my apartment, I powered up my cell and immediately saw the message she’d sent earlier.
She went to LA with her brother.
She didn’t want me to worry.
We needed to talk.
I was no genius, but I knew what talk meant, so I didn’t bother replying. She’d say what she had to when she got back. But while I knew she was gone, I slipped my kneepads on, went out onto my balcony of death, and listened to “The Dance.”
I’d heard once that it was a good one to play on bad days, but the motherfucker only made everything hurt worse. Coincidentally, that bitch Shania didn’t make a damn thing better, either.I had to look like hell Monday morning, but fuck it. I worked at a brewery, not a goddamned fashion house. Well, at least for a few more days.
Besides, I practically hadn’t slept all weekend and the large, dark circles and the beard I’d grown out of laziness as opposed to flirtiness had me appearing haggard—at best. It was only when I got to the office that I realized I hadn’t managed to even match. Who knew how it’d happened, but this sad sack was wearing one blue sock and one black sock.
Ask me if I cared.
Here’s a hint: I did not.
In fact, since Maggie had been gone, all I’d done was throw myself into my work. Not Bay Brewing work, but deep into hours of organizing, prepping, and planning for Warren Consulting.
I supposed I had done one Bay thing that weekend though, if you could count it as that.
