Page 5 of Bad Bunny
“I want a little more excitement. You know?” Seth drums his fingers lightly against the desk. The sound is obnoxious, scraping like chalk across my nerves. “Not just dinner and a movie every Friday night.”
“I thought you liked predictable. You said routine is healthy,” I say automatically, because that’s exactly what Seth had said. I’m not thinking about the naked man in my closet right now. I’m too busy realizing I’d talked myself into believing that Seth could be my happily-ever-after and now every word he says makes that idea more and more ridiculous.
Seth exhales like I’ve missed the point. “It’s more than that. This,” he gestures at me, “this just isn’t working.”
I stare at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence. The part where he saysfor now.
But those words never come.
“I mean,” his look turns vaguely apologetic, “you live with your mom.”
I go still. “You know why that is.”
“Of course,” he says quickly. “And it’s admirable. Really. It’s just—” he hesitates, like he’s choosing his words carefully, “it’s not exactly ideal for where I am in my life right now.”
Something hot and sharp unfurls deep inside me. Spreads outward.
“Where you are in your life,” I repeat.
“I’m thinking long-term,” he says, already defensive. “I need someone who can move forward with me. Someone who’s…available.”
Available.
Like I’m a meeting slot.
Or a parking space.
“You mean I won’t let you sleep over. That’s what you’re talking about. How I won’t fuck you with my dying mother next door.”
He flinches.
“That’s not—”
“My mother has cancer, Seth.”
“I know,” he says, his voice tightening. “And I’ve been really supportive of that, but…”
But.
There it is.
Nobut I know it’s hard.Nobut I see how much you’re sacrificing.Nobut I’m sorry.
Justbut.
Which really meansbut I didn’t sign up for this.
The silence stretches for half a second too long. He must mistake my quiet for acceptance, because he smiles, relieved, like something’s been settled between us.
“I’m glad you understand.” The chair screeches as he stands. “I’ll let you get back to it.” One last hard squeeze of my shoulder, like he’s comforting me instead of breaking up with me.
“Happy Easter, Nora,” he says as he walks away.
The door clicks shut behind him.
I stare at it for a second.
Then another.
