Page 48 of The Time It Takes
“There is no us.” His tone is definite.
I let out a loose, uneven breath that I know is audible. “There used to be.”
“There used to be a lot of things. Things disappear, they vanish.” I lift my head and his eyes meet mine and my heart is breaking when he says, “Some things should just stay that way...gone.”
I want to explain myself, but he’s too defensive right now. I swallow hard. “I understand why you’re angry, but—”
He steps toward me, his eyes cold and it has me straightening my spine. I won’t back down. Not from him—not from this. This is too important. He stops a foot away from me. “I’m way past angry, Willow. I’m so far beyond it that I just don’t care anymore. I don’t want you here, Willow.”
The backs of my eyes burn as I narrow them. “Stop spitting out my name like it’s some sort of curse.” I ball my hands into fists at my sides, pressing my nails into my palms.
He takes another step. He’s so close to me that I can smell him. It’s so familiar that all I want to do is step into his arms and be wrapped in everything that’s him despite his cruel words.
“I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.” His words are laced with venom, but I’ve tasted much worse.
I’m tempted to stay just a little bit longer to piss him off. He’s being unfair. This was once my home too. He can’t just claim territory. It’s wrong of him to even think for a moment that he can speak to me this way. I can hardly contain my anger. There’s something else that’s hard to contain—the fact that my heart is being ripped from inside my chest. All over again. I don’t know how I expected him to act, but it wasn’t like this. I knew I couldn’t just waltz back into his life, but I at least expected him to let me tiptoe.
These words don’t belong to him. They belong to his pain. Pain that I’ve caused.
I turn away from him and start to walk down the pier, back toward the beach. “I don’t deserve this,” I whisper to the world.
“Go fucking figure,” he says, voice trembling.
I freeze at his comment and take a few deep breaths before spinning around to face him. His hair is more wind torn than a moment ago, illuminating the hatred that’s pouring out of him. I notice then that my hair is also being whipped around from the increasing wind speed as if the world is matching us one for one.
I take slow and precise steps toward him, keeping my face at a neutral calm. “Believe it or not, I came here for other reasons that don’t involve boosting your ego. I didn’t come here to be shamed for doing what I needed to do. I’m not going to apologize for something you don’t understand.”
“You’re right. You win.” His tone is harsh. “You win.” He throws up his hands in surrender.
I’m standing in front of him again, close enough to reach out and grab him if I wanted to when I say, “Win what? I don’t win anything. I have losteverything.” I let out an exasperated breath of defeat. “I have lost so much and for once, I wanted to gain something I couldn’t lose. So yeah, I left, and I took what I could get that wasn’t me. I wanted something that could never leave me behind. I wanted to run away from everything that made me feel insane for needing.” My voice shakes, but I don’t stop.
“I was sick of searching for things to keep in a place where the waves would come and wash it all away. I was sick of being afraid of everything. I’m still sick of it. I was sick when I left and I’m sick now. Being back here is suffocating me, Ollie. So no, I don’t win a damn thing, because I’ve lost everything I have left. I’m not going to apologize for feeling sorry for myself for once in my life!”
I watch his chest rise and fall with short breaths as he stares at me, completely speechless. I wipe away the angry tear that managed to slip, practically slapping myself in the face to do it. My breathing is uneven, and I think I’m on the brink of a panic attack. I turn away to leave only to have his voice stop me once more.
His voice is softer when he says, “I lost both of you and it tore me apart.” I look at him over my shoulder. “You left, and you forgot. You forgot.”
“Forgot what?” I ask, hating the tears that blur my vision.
“Me.” His voice shakes. “You forgot me.”
My heart drops to my stomach, but I shake my head, a ghost of a smile sitting on my lips. It goes away too quickly because I realize he has no idea. “It would have been a hell of a lot easier if that were true.” I pause, my eyes searching his tired ones. “I tried, Ollie. I really did, but it turns out you’re pretty damn unforgettable.”
I leave him with this.
And I leave with the feeling of wanting to run home, only to find myself wanting to run back to him.
EVERYTHING ALWAYS FEELS LIKE A WARNING.
Ten years ago
Thehousewasquiet.
My mind reeled over the events that occurred the night before. From almost kissing Oliver to seeing my brother shit-faced at the race. Oliver won the money. I had no idea where he learned to drive like that but to say I was impressed put it too lightly.
It was a complete turn-on, but the moment I thought of my brother again, all of those feelings that had been building up inside of me completely vanished.
Growing up, my father was diagnosed with a rare disease that’s referred to as a form of psychogenic pain—which is feeling pain that’s not there. It took years of hospital visits before the doctors finally believed him. I didn’t know which was worse, my father’s pain or knowing that it was caused by an imaginary disease created by his brain.
