Can you love me and hate me at the same time?
I’ll never forgive you.
He types some and then the bubbles that indicate he’s writing stop. And then they continue, but suddenly stop again. All the while I grip my phone tightly.
Instead of waiting, I write more. My hands shake and the anger in me confuses itself for sorrow.
I needed someone and I had no one. I wanted you, you had to know. I blamed myself for everything when there was no reason to think otherwise. You could have helped me, but you only watched. You made my pain so much worse than it needed to be.
I send it to him and although it’s marked as read, nothing comes. Minutes pass and the ticking of the clock serves as a constant reminder of every second going by with nothing to fill the gaping hole in my heart.
The moment I set the phone down on the counter and reach for the corkscrew, the phone beeps. I have to read it twice and then reread the message I’d sent him before the sob escapes me.
That’s the way I felt every time you kissed him.
My shoulders shake so hard that I fall to the ground, my phone falling as well, although the screen doesn’t shatter. I cover my face as I cry, hating myself even more and not knowing how to make anything better.
My phone pings again, but I can’t answer it for the longest time. Even though it feels pathetic, I cry so hard it hurts every piece of my heart. The piece I gave Tyler when I gave myself to him. The piece I thought I’d left behind when I walked away from him. The piece that left me when he was laid to rest, and the piece I gave Daniel. There are many pieces. Pieces from years ago, from only days ago and the very big piece he just took.
I want him back instantly. I want him to hold me. There’s a part of me that knows it’s weak and pathetic to feel this desperate need for someone else. But deep inside I know I’d live my life happily being weak and pathetic for him. Isn’t he weak for me just the same?
Sniffling and wiping at my face, I somehow get up, bracing myself against the counter and reaching for the faucet. My face is hot and I can still hardly breathe.
I don’t think you ever get over the death of someone who’s taken up space in your soul. It isn’t possible. There are only moments when you remember that you’re a pale imitation of what you could be if they were still with you. And those moments hurt more than anything else in this world.
As I turn off the faucet, I swear I hear something behind me and I whip around, a chill flowing over my skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
It takes every ounce of strength in me to lower myself to the ground, although my eyes stay on the skinny hallway where the noise came from.
It’s silent as I pick up the phone, barely breathing, and quickly message Daniel. Are you here now?
It was a long time ago. I promise you. I wasn’t well. I’m sorry.
I stare at his answer, feeling a chill flow over my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck raise.
So it’s not you? I will myself to keep my eyes on the hallway, my back to the counter as I type. I can barely breathe.
Someone there?
I don’t answer him and a series of texts come through. Ping. Ping. Ping. Each another sound that echoes down the hall.
Without looking at the messages I text, I’m fine.
His answer comes through before I look back to the hall. I’m coming over.
At his response I push forward, forcing myself to walk down the hall and to the loft bedroom. There’s only one door and I push it open, telling myself it’s nothing as the phone pings in my hand again.
It pings again as I take in the bedroom, cautiously stepping forward until I see a picture has fallen from the collage on the far side of the room.
My phone pings a third time and I can finally breathe. It’s only a photo that’s fallen.
I read his latest text and roll my eyes. Answer me.
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as the phone rings and I drop it on the floor. It takes the entire time it’s ringing for me to catch my breath and when I do I pick up the phone to text him. It was only a picture falling.
I’m on my way.
Don’t come here, I text back while I’m still on the floor and I hope he can feel the anger that’s still there. I add, I don’t want you here.
It hurts me to tell him that. Partly because it’s a lie. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I can already see myself forgiving him.
Addison please. Don’t shut me out.
It took us long enough to admit what we needed.
I miss you. I need you.
If you’re scared I need to be there.
With the fear and regret and everything else that’s tortured me today, I just want to give in to him after reading his rapid-fire texts. But I won’t.
I just need sleep, I reply and then add, Don’t come.
Please forgive me, he finally texts and I can’t respond right now, so I shut the phone off and fall onto the bed. I don’t know how long I stare at the wall or at what point I decide I have enough energy to clean up the fallen picture, but I know it’s longer than I’d like.
The command tape is stuck to the wall this time. I swear I’ll never use it again.
Just like I’ll never let myself give in to Daniel again.
Some people you’re meant to miss.
They’re just no good for you.
I think the words, but I don’t know if I really feel them.
With that thought in mind I move to where the picture frame lays facedown on the ground and lift it carefully. Luckily there’s no broken glass.
I almost feel okay as I turn it over to inspect the frame.
But then I see the picture that fell. One I took myself, five years ago.
A still life of Tyler’s rusty old truck.
And that’s when I lose it all over again. I’m forced to come to terms with the fact that some wounds never heal. And they aren’t meant to be forgotten.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Daniel
The phone rings and rings as I throw a zipped up bag into the corner with the rest of the luggage. I’ve packed light for years, but it’s never bothered me before.
Looking at the small pile that comprises everything I own, I’ve never felt so worthless. Or so tired. I didn’t sleep at all.
The phone goes silent and instead of calling Addison again, I scroll to Carter’s number and call him. I could easily text him to let him know I’m on my way, but I don’t want to. I want him to hear the defeat in my voice. And I need to talk to someone. Someone real. I’m losing everything, slowly feeling it drain from me.
I need someone. Desperately. I stayed awake outside Addison’s apartment all night. I had to make sure she was okay. But time doesn’t wait, and I had to pack … and now I have to leave.
It only rings twice before he picks up, greeting me with my name although it comes out as a question. And I know why he’d be confused to see I’m calling him.
I don’t call anyone ever. I don’t care to talk to him or any of my brothers, and they’re the only ones alive I love. My brothers and Addison.
“Do you miss him?” I ask Carter without prefacing my question. “Not like Mom and Dad, where we knew it was coming and it made sense.” Carter tries to talk on the other end of the line, but I keep going, pinching the bridge of my nose and sitting on the end of the bed. It protests with my weight. “The kind of missing someone where it feels better to pretend they’re coming back? The kind of missing where you talk to them like they can hear you and it makes you feel better?” I know why I don’t go home. It’s because he’s there in my head. I know what home is, and he’s there. I refuse to accept otherwise. I can’t.