Someone I Used to Know

chapter Eighteen

Adley


The sky was an ugly gray that stretched thin in every direction I could see out of my window at Cam’s. The hazy weather told me what I already knew. I didn’t deserve the sun. My single black duffle was fully packed, not a pound heavier than the day I’d arrived three months before.

I anxiously watched the hands on the old-fashioned clock sitting on the bedside table tick past, until it was finally time for me to go.

I’d planned my departure perfectly. The flight I’d booked as soon as I’d gotten away from Thomas, was scheduled to leave at an ungodly hour. It was far earlier than Cam’s usual wake up call, and he’d never ever assume I would willingly submit to being awake at sunrise.

Navigating the logistics of my time in the airport was a little trickier. I couldn’t show up too early for the flight, with the possibility that someone actually might recognize me. I wasn’t entirely sure how widespread or popular the knowledge that America’s favorite book had a face to attach to a character had become.

The house was so quiet that even my tiptoed steps down the stairs in the foyer, sounded like an elephant in a china shop. For the first time, I was actually thankful that I’d sold my Brighton rolling luggage to help pay for hospital bills. It would’ve been as loud as the engine on the airplane I was about to board, bumping down the unpadded steps.

Like the prize at the end of the treasure hunt, I reached out victoriously for the cold, shiny metal of the front doorknob.

“Just like that, huh?” Cam’s voice echoed through every facet and crevice of the high-ceilinged foyer, until it felt like he was surrounding me on all sides.

I imagined that was exactly what a fugitive felt like the moment they heard, ‘The place is surrounded! Drop your weapon, and get on the ground!’

My head hung forward, thumping against the door in defeat.

“You weren’t even going to say goodbye?”

No, I didn’t say.

I had little choice but to face him, turning slowly towards where he sat in the living room. He’d turned an armchair so he could recline while he watched the door, apparently predicting my actions all along. I wondered how long he’d been sitting there, just waiting on me to disappoint him.

“It’s for the best.” If I was that tired of repeating the mantra, I couldn’t imagine how bored they were of hearing me say it.

He raised a hand, halting me from continuing.

I expected anger or irritation. I’d anticipated rage and tears. All I got from Cam was a look of exhaustion that sagged through his whole body. The defeat on his face scared me a thousand times more than any of those other emotions ever could have.

It had finally happened.

He’d given up on me. My actions and words had been begging him to do it for years, but nothing could have prepared me for the moment he truly let me go. I felt naked, like a part of me had been ripped away, leaving me exposed. It was terrifying.

He sighed. “Red Shoes, you don’t always get to decide what’s best.”

It was unfair to use that nickname. Tears burned my tear ducts, but I refused to let them fall. Couldn’t he see that it was hard for me too? Why did he have to make it harder?

I shuddered, blinking back my weakness until I’d regained my composure.

“Look,” he began uncomfortably, “about Declan. All those things I said about the two of you, they weren’t coming from your friend. When I said them, they were coming from your ex-boyfriend, and I’m sorry…I think I was wrong about him. He came by last night. I’ve never seen someone –.”

“Don’t.” It was my turn to cut him off. My back hit the door as I retreated like a skittish cat, ready to dart at any moment. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He didn’t fight me on it. Maybe I’d grown too reliant on Declan’s stubborn tongue, always happy to put me in my place. Cam just relented.

His expression changed from forceful to longing as he gave me a regretful look up and down. It felt a whole lot like he was trying to memorize everything about me, even the smallest, most insignificant details. He was staring at me like it was the last time he’d ever see me.

“No rubber ducky shorts this time.” I could tell he tried to say it lightly, like a casual observation made by a friend, but there was a thickness in his voice that didn’t belong.

“It’s not a rubber ducky sort of day,” I replied solemnly. My bottom lip wobbled dangerously, and I had no defense to throw up when he came at me, wrapping his familiar body around mine.

I almost broke right then and there. It would’ve been easy to fall apart in Cam’s arms.

I could’ve forgotten all the silly mess of the past. I could’ve accepted the comfort he offered. I could’ve stayed with him forever, letting him take care of me, like he’d been trying to do all along. It would’ve been so easy to give in…

But the wrong things were always the easiest, and I’d been finding the strength to do otherwise for far too long to wave my white flag.

“You can’t keep doing this, Adley.” The comfort of his warm breath on my forehead was wholly misleading, a false promise of reassuring words that I wouldn’t let him speak.

He was wrong.

I was fatally flawed, doomed by the stubbornness of my convictions to make the same decisions over and over again.

I hadn’t moved, not an inch, my face still pressed into his soft t-shirt that sported the name of some indie band I’d never heard of, but he sensed the change. He dropped his arms and stepped away, resorting back to his demeanor of calm defeat.

I could see the part I’d played in every weary line of his face. There was a four year age difference between us, but he hadn’t looked a day over eighteen when we met. There had been youth in his smile and innocence in his joy. And then he’d met me.

A lifetime of sorrows hadn’t aged him like I had.

There wasn’t a thing I could do to erase the harm I’d done, the pain I’d inflicted by the cruelty of my love.

All I could do for him was leave.

When I stepped backwards out of his arms, my expression was strong, betraying none of the desperate weakness that clawed at my insides.

“Fine,” was all he said, resigned to my will. He reached behind him, dislodging a thick envelope from his back pocket and handed it to me.

It was heavy in my hand, and while it wasn’t addressed to anyone or marked with postage, three messy words were scrawled largely, nearly spacing the entire rectangular shape.

“Just read it”

I looked up at him questioningly. I’d seen his handwriting on enough grocery lists and battered notebooks to know the edgy slants didn’t belong to him.

He shrugged, with the slightest hitch sheepishly pulling at his lips, showing just a hint of one dimple.

“Declan asked me if he could give you this, and after some thought, I agreed…It’s time.”

The words weren’t strange. They made perfect sense, and I had no problem understanding them, but the way he said them niggled at the back of my mind. I stared down at the fat envelope, curiosity burning in my gut.

The envelope was almost too full to seal, but somehow, the task had been managed, closing off its mysterious contents from me with the barest amount of glue. I squeezed it once, feeling the paper bend against my touch easily, like a stack of letters had been folded inside.

I just knew that whatever I held in my hands was dangerous. I could sense its power – its importance. I had no idea what it could be, but I knew it was something that would change me.

It was too bad that I’d already accepted my fate and had no desire to alter the path I was headed down.

Ignorance really was bliss. After one last look, I tucked the envelope into my bag. I felt relief without it in my grip, like I’d just gotten rid of a grenade.

“I’m sorry,” one of us said. Later, I wouldn’t be able to remember which one of us voiced the emotion we both felt. And in the end, it didn’t matter anyways.

I left California in a blur, happy to be numbed from the overwhelming feeling that I’d just made a horrible mistake. But it was one I couldn’t stop myself from making.

And, maybe, that really was the worst the part of all.