“I didn’t ask to be saved! Get out of my house!”
Her words, though expected, hurt. My throat tightened around a lump as I bustled to the door, glancing back one last time to see if I’d forgotten anything. There was nothing.
“Goodbye, Momma.”
“Good riddance. Don’t come crying to me when you need somethin’.” She stumbled into the kitchen, and I stared through the dingy glass on the door before pulling it closed.
She didn’t register the finality of my goodbye. To her, this was just a usual fight with one of her kids, the sort we’d all endured since childhood. But for me, it was the end of everything I was before and the beginning of who I intended to be. It should have felt like a relief walking out of there, but all I felt was a hollow ache in my chest.
As I boarded the bus, I stared straight ahead, too distracted by my thoughts to open the textbook I’d brought. I didn’t breathe a full breath until we were out of the town of Blackwater.
Staring out the window, I watched my reflection play over the passing homes and abandoned properties until we were barreling down an open highway. Catching a tear before it left my eye, I lifted my chin and swallowed against the lump in my throat. I wasn’t going to cry.
Crying meant regret, and this was my decision. I chose to walk away once and for all, and I intended to stick by my decision. I was in control of my destiny. This was my life.
My finger rolled over my phone, opening my contacts. I stared at the number labeled MOM. Taking a deep breath, I blocked it.
I was done.
Still no calls or texts from Noah. I shut my eyes, waiting for the chill to escape my bones. Bit by bit, I cleared my mind, but the problem with removing emotional clutter was it made it a lot easier to notice the emptiness.
Walking back into my apartment building later that night was like coming out of a dream into a reality that had shifted off its axis and no longer felt the same. Everything hinted of change, as though someone came in my absence, moved things around, then put them back as they were.
It was late, and my back cried for my bed. As I approached my door, I stilled. On the floor sat a shoebox. I picked it up and slid back the lid. A pair of mittens—my mittens. A few bobby pins. And my T-shirt.
A piercing stab lanced my heart as I realized what this was. These were the few items I’d left over Noah’s since we had started sleeping together.
Wiping my eyes, I gave up on my fight against the tears. I gave up on everything. I couldn’t handle one more challenge.
Turning, I hurled the box at his door, no longer caring what anyone thought of me. I let myself inside my apartment and slammed the door. When I hit my bed, I truly fell apart.
36
Avery
If not for my clients, the loneliness would have swallowed me whole. David took me to a great show. Christopher introduced me to escargot. Richard was his usual arrogant self. And Micah continued to hint at renegotiating our arrangement, but I continued to evade giving him an answer for reasons I didn’t want to face.
I should accept his offer. It was the only option I had for companionship now that Noah had shunned me. And being with Micah wouldn’t be a total loss. He treated me nice, understood I hadn’t started in this social tier. But I didn’t love him, and I wasn’t sure I ever could.
Maybe I wasn’t meant to fall in love or be loved. These were the sorts of thoughts giving me indigestion of late.
February became a month of preparation. Planning for something better to come seemed the only tolerable distraction I could find. I shopped for teaching clothes, prepared lesson plans, and exercised to the brink of collapse.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Noah in weeks, but it made perfect sense for our paths to cross on Valentine’s Day. My fate was just that cruel.
Waiting for Micah to park his car, I fed my key into the lock only to still at the sound of a door opening. Noah exited his apartment in a rush, just as my door opened. We glanced at each other and stilled, both frozen for a split second.
In his hand, he held a long-stemmed rose. Who was it for? My heart was suddenly in my throat, and as I tried to speak no words came out.
He recovered first, breaking all eye contact and looking away. He locked his door and went to the elevator, leaving me staring after him. I still hadn’t moved as the elevator arrived and it seemed almost poetic that Micah stood on the other side of the doors when they opened.
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. If Noah hadn’t been through with me yet, this would certainly do the trick. He didn’t meet my glance as he passed Micah and pressed the button to go down, nor did he utter a word in the other man’s presence.
When the doors closed, leaving only me and my date, my hand trembled trying to pull the key from the lock. Micah and I were going to discuss his offer and come to a final decision. I wasn’t ready, but with the dark place my head had been I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready, but I’d delayed the conversation long enough, and there was really no point in holding onto the past.
How involved did a guy have to be to give someone a rose on Valentine’s Day? My stomach turned, and I quickly pushed all worries about Noah out of my mind.
Micah followed me inside, removing my wrap and I went to the stereo to put on some music. It was starting to snow.
Wandering to the window, I stared down at the street. Who was Noah meeting on Valentine’s Day? Were they serious? He bought her a rose.
Micah brushed a gentle finger down my arm and handed me a glass of wine. “Come sit by the fire, love. It’s cold by the window.”
My feet wouldn’t move. “It’s snowing,” I whispered, an unfamiliar sense of longing filling my chest.
“Tomorrow the streets are going to be a disaster. I can’t wait for spring.”
I used to think the same thing, but tonight, my thoughts were different. “I think it’s pretty.”
He led me to the couch, and I sat down, doing my best to focus on my company. “I know you’ve been sad since your trip home, Avery. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.” And as much as cutting off the last of my family hurt, it wasn’t the route of my pain.
“Have you put any more thought into my offer?”
I thought about it every day, but I never made any headway. “I have some concerns.”
“Such as?”
“Would the arrangement include sex?”
If my question surprised him, he didn’t let it show. “We would have a monogamous agreement. Intimacy would, of course, be open to discussion. Is that something you’d like to address now?”
How long could we possibly go without eventually sleeping together? Even a cactus needed water from time to time. “Isn’t it something you’d require … at some point.”
“I think it’s something we both would come to expect. But I can be patient.”
There were so many ways to have sex. Everyone was different, and sometimes the most unassuming people were the most surprising. “What if we’re not compatible in that way?”
“I think we’ll manage.”
It was the first time I felt wiser than him. We’ll manage? He knew I had a bleak past, but I made it too easy for him to believe the fantasy. He didn’t know me. He assumed the woman he spent time with was the basis of my character. It wasn’t. I was nothing like my sugar baby persona. Eventually, he’d realize that and then where would we be?