Page 114 of On the Ropes
Tabitha
Iwas quickly learning that chalk drawings of tiny rainbow hearts didn’t smudge that much when you cried on them.
Juliet pointed at the heart I’d finished coloring in. “Aunty Tabby, you messed that one up.”
I peeked over her shoulder and pressed my lips together at the tear tracks. “You’re right, kiddo. I sure did. How about I fix it with some more green?”
She nodded and went back to her own drawing, which appeared to be another portrait of Pam but with more heads. I cast my eyes up to Alexis, who was sitting on the stoop, hands clasped in her lap, chewing on her bottom lip like she was about to cry with me. “Do you want me to get you some tissues?” she asked.
“Nope,” I said firmly. “I’ll cry if you bring them out, and besides, I’m not going to cry again. Besides, I’m basically at the end of my story, which is that he said something like, maybe I’ll see you in Vegas sometime, and then he left. And I bawled my eyes out all over Aunt Linda’s sports-themed couch pillows.”
I sat back on my heels and brushed the hair from my face, holding a stick of green chalk in one hand. As requested, I wore pajamas and was prepared to crash on the floor in Alexis and Eric’s living room, with Juliet sleeping in a tiny tent and Dad and Kathleen claiming the big couch. Juliet had come up with the idea after the success of our previous sleepover, and I couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend my last night in Philly.
Well, there was one better way—having a giant family slumber party in a world where I hadn’t hurt the man I’d fallen in love with.
Alexis leaned over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it three times. “Oh, Tab. I’m so sorry.”
I looked away and released her. “It’s okay. Really. It’s…it’s my fault. I mishandled the whole thing from the start, so I’m not sure what other outcome I expected.”
I refocused on shading in the green I’d smudged, breathing through the heavy knot in my chest. I couldn’t stop the morning’s events in my head, like some kind of shitty time loop I couldn’t escape. How over the course of a couple hours, we’d retreated to separate corners with only awkwardness hanging between us. So we’re good, then, right?
How many times had I parroted that same phrase to a person I’d been casually involved with?
Alexis left her perch on the stoop to crouch next to me. She reached forward, stilling my coloring. “Obviously I’m always biased when it comes to you, but I also genuinely believe that this situation cannot possibly be all your fault.”
“I disregarded every opportunity for open communication,” I said. “Instead of being honest, I pretended I didn’t want more, pretended that my heart was still closed instead of being fully open. Dean said I didn’t need to apologize. That I’d been clear about never getting attached and he got it. But I still did exactly what I never wanted to do. Got involved in something messy and unclear and left the other person hurt and confused.”
“Why do you think it’s all your fault, then?” she asked. “It sounds like you must have had some communication about your situation if Dean knew what you were about.”
I glanced over at Juliet, who was distracted with her cat drawings. I lowered my voice. “You remember what we talked about the other day, the way Mom’s behavior still impacts our lives? Seeing how formal and polite Dean became, how stoic, it was as if the past two magical weeks together hadn’t happened. Like we were perfect strangers and not friends who cared about one another. I know Dean.” I cleared my throat through rising emotion. “Seeing his warmth and humor and affection disappear…it was like watching Dad walk around after an argument with Mom, pretending things were okay after she’d done one more thing to devastate him. Those weekends when we’d take Dad to John’s to get water ice are burned into my memory. How small and defeated he looked. I always knew I’d never be like her, never stomp all over people’s hearts the way she did. Relationships are easier if you can control every step of the way. Just flirting, just sex, no emotions. If I’d stuck to that formula with Dean from the start…”
Alexis saw through that lie immediately. “Be honest. Do you really believe you two were destined for some casual fling? Because you can be a good, thoughtful person and try your hardest to avoid hurting the person you’re with.” She ducked her head to catch my gaze and held it. “But we cannot control relationships in that way. Certainly not the kind you had with Dean. Real passion, real love doesn’t adhere to those rules. The more you try to contain it the more it resists being contained.”
I closed my eyes to better imagine the scenario I’d painted for my sister. One where I bumped into Dean at Benny’s and we then pursued a purely sexual relationship comprised of impersonal trysts and shallow conversation. Instead, I could only remember Dean’s boyish grin, his body moving confidently as we danced in his parents’ living room. His eyes on me last night had seared like a brand, and every smile we shared was the sweetest victory.
How deliriously happy I’d been, as if we were always meant to have that dance, have that dinner, have that life.
At some point, Alexis had wrapped me in her arms.
“Oh God, am I crying again?” I said, sniffing against her shoulder.
“Yeah, but it’s no biggie. You think people in this neighborhood haven’t seen someone sobbing on the sidewalk before? It’s a regular occurrence during football season.”
I snorted, but it ended on a croaking half sob.
Juliet patted me softly on the back. “Do you miss Mr. Dean?”
“Yeah,” I managed to say. “I miss Mr. Dean.”
The counselors would always say that you find the people who love you more loudly than the ones who don’t. That’s your real family, in the end.
Dean’s words from last night only caused more tears to roll down my cheeks. This level of connection had happened often in our support group—he would share one or two sentences, or I would share via my usual excited rambling. After finishing, our eyes would find each other from across the room, both of us seeking the comfort of a friend.
That safe space was often the only place where I was ever truly honest. It required a bravery and vulnerability that terrified me more than my current lightly packed way of life. And it was growing clear to me now that the moments between us when I’d pushed past the fear, been truly free with my emotions had created an intimacy more poignant than my worries.
“Alexis?”
“Mm-hmm?”
