Page 94 of The No Try Zone
His side of the bed is cold. I sit up, pulling my knees up and wrapping my arms around them to rest my head on my knees.
I’m done.
I have to be done. I don’t recognize the person I am anymore. I haven’t recognized myself in months.
This isn’t what loving someone is supposed to feel like. It can’t possibly. It’s certainly not the way Mum and Dad loved each other. Theirs was a quiet love, but it was obvious to anyone who looked at them that they were wildly in love with each other. Even the odd boyfriend I had back home never acted as if I was a secret that needed to be hidden.
So I’m done. Part of me wants to break it off by text – keep it nice and quiet, after all – but I won’t actually do that. He doesn’t get that kind of tidiness. No more shrinking myself into being small.
The empty side of the bed stares back at me, as if to confirm I’m making the right choice.
This isn’t love.
You deserve to be loved out loud.
I shake my head. What did I expect? This entire thing started with me breaking the one rule I have. I should have known that it was never going to work.
But that knowledge doesn’t make it feel any better when I’m in my shower a few minutes later. It doesn’t stop the tears from coming. It doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, the utter emptiness that’s steadily grown. I thought last night changed him. Changedus.
On a sob, I sink to the tile. I don’t get out until the hot water is gone.
My resolve strengthensthroughout the day. I take some players through their PT routines and work with others on plans to keep them from re-injury. I grab lunch with Kari on the top floor, diving into the pho she had delivered for us and letting its warmth seep into me.
Kari studies me over her bowl. “You okay?”
“No.” The admission is easy. The tears come just as easily, my eyes filling instantly.
She drops her spoon and chopsticks. “What happened? Is your mom okay?”
I choke back a sad laugh. “She’s fine. So is Ollie.”
Kari’s expression darkens. “Colin did something, didn’t he?”
I give her a sad smile. “It’s what he’s not doing.”
She slumps back in her chair. “This sucks.”
I nod and slurp a bite of noodles. “It does.”
“Want me to crush him like a bug? I can do it,” she promises. “When I’m done, he won’t be able to get a job volunteering with a local rugby rec league.”
Another laugh escapes me, almost real this time. “As tempting as that is, no. I’m going to handle it.”
Kari reaches across the table for my hand. “I love you. I’m proud of you.”
I hold on to that resolve through the rest of lunch and in the hours that follow. When I know most everyone is gone for the day, I make my way back up to the top floor, noting all the darkened offices I pass on the way to Colin’s office.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me. If anything, he seems resigned.
And that pisses me off.
Relieved, I reach for the kernel of emotion and cradle it, hoping to stoke it to a blazing fire.
“I’m sorry,” he begins.
“You say that a lot,” I shoot back, crossing my arms and standing tall. “But I don’t think you mean it.”
He leans back, his jaw ticking as he grips the chair’s armrests. “That’s not fair.”
