I follow it up with six exclamation points, because I’m feeling dramatic. Expecting nothing, I shut off the phone and go to bed.
In the morning when I turn it on, there’s a message from Cole.
And I was right. But I have more than one.
I’m so thrilled that he responded, I almost drop the phone. Pulse throbbing and hands shaking, I stare at the screen and try to decide what to send back. Because I’m nothing if not direct, I go straight for the jugular.
I miss you. I love you. I won’t stop just because you’re ignoring me.
His response is instantaneous.
Forget me. It’s over.
That makes me so mad, I scream. Standing in the middle of my bedroom, I look up at the ceiling and scream at it until I feel better. Then I let my thumbs fly.
It’s not over. Don’t be such a wuss. Let me come and see you.
IT’S OVER. I’M WITH KIYOKO NOW.
I stare at the screen, sick with envy and heartache but still determined.
Bullshit. I know you. I know what this is. You won’t scare me off so easily.
Shaking with anxiety, I wait for a response. When it doesn’t come, I dial his number. When he picks up, I almost pass out from relief.
“Hello? Cole?”
No response, but I hear him breathing.
“Okay, I’ll talk, you listen. Please don’t hang up. God, where do I start? I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”
Pacing the floor, I chew my thumbnail until I can pull myself together enough to form a coherent sentence. “I know you’re hurt. Nobody will tell me how badly, but all I care about is that you’re alive. It doesn’t matter to me if you have a disability. It doesn’t matter to me if you can’t walk. All I want is you. Please let me come see you. Please.”
After a minute of silence where I die a thousand deaths, he finally speaks.
“I’m not a man anymore.”
His voice is raw, aching with anger and pain. Hearing it makes my heart clench and tears spring into my eyes.
I whisper, “Don’t say that. You’re still a man. Your masculinity doesn’t depend on—”
“I’m not a man!” he roars. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I can’t be with you anymore, Shay! I can’t be with anyone! I’m not fucking functional!”
I start to bawl. Tears stream down my cheeks. My whole body is racked with uncontrollable sobs. I sink to my knees on the carpet and cry so hard, my sides hurt.
“I d-don’t care.”
“You should fucking care!”
“I don’t. Let me see you. Please.”
“Goddammit. Goddammit. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Why can’t you just let it go?”
He’s angry and frustrated, breathing hard. And I’m desperate to keep him talking. This feels dangerous and out of control, as if everything hinges on this conversation. Our past, our future, our whole lives.
It feels like we’re holding hands at the edge of a high, windswept cliff, deciding whether to step back or jump.
“I can’t let it go because I love you.”
His voice turns bitter. “You loved Chet too. Look what that got you.”
My heart is breaking. It’s splitting in half. It’s tearing itself into pieces.
“I won’t answer if you call again, Shay. I won’t see you. Forget about me. Go live your life. It’s over. You’re nothing to me anymore.”
A white hot ball of rage explodes inside me. I’m still crying, but I’m furious now too. At him for being so unreasonable, and at myself for being so reckless with my heart.
At the top of my lungs, I shout into the phone, “Fuck you, Cole McCord! You don’t get to tell me how to live my life! You don’t get to tell me who to love! And I don’t care if you don’t want me anymore, I still want you, and I always will! I want you even if it means I have to lay next to you and have sex with a vibrator while you watch every night for the rest of my life, okay? You dumb, stubborn man, your worth doesn’t depend on your legs or your dick or any other of your goddamn body parts. And I’m sorry this happened, God fucking knows I am, but sometimes life is shitty, and the only choice we have is to make the best of it! We don’t give up. Not on life, and not on each other. And I swear to God, if you give up on us, I’ll never forgive you. So get your shit together, and get your head straight. When I said I belonged to you, that meant forever. Like it or not, I’m yours!”
I disconnect and throw the phone against the wall, where it shatters into pieces.
Then I fall facedown on the carpet, curl into a ball, and sob until I fall asleep.
Cole
I should’ve known she wouldn’t make it easy for me. That woman has defied me at every turn since the day we met.
Kiyoko takes the phone when I hand it to her. We sit in silence for a while, then she says, “I really like that girl.”
I close my eyes, swallow around the lump in my throat, and let the tears slide down my face.
“I know,” I whisper. “Me too.”
Shay
I get through the weekend by the skin of my teeth. On Monday at work, I’m barely coherent. I walk around like a zombie, going through the motions and avoiding everyone’s eyes.
It’s starting to sink in that it’s really over. Cole doesn’t want me. And no matter how much I want him, relationships take two.
It occurs to me more than once that I should quit and find a new job, but I can’t bring myself to do it. This place is the only concrete reminder I have of him. Leaving it would feel like a betrayal. Like a denial that what I told him he meant to me was real.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m just hoping he’ll come back to work, and I can see him in the elevator. I know it’s pathetic of me, but even that much would be enough.
Knowing he’ll probably never read it, I write him an inter-office memo and give it to Scotty to leave on his desk.
Dear Mr. McCord,
Our last contact was two days ago. It’s amazing how many tears I’ve shed in forty-eight hours. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. When you lose such a big a part of yourself, it feels like you’ll never recover.
If I was too harsh on you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you, but even more than that, I’m sorry for my part in all of this. I should have listened when you told me to walk away that first night. I should have been more responsible. More careful. Less reckless with both our hearts.
I miss you terribly.
The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing you’re still out there somewhere. Well, more bearable, anyway. Right now, it feels as if I’m walking alone in the dark, not even bothering to search for a light at the end of the tunnel because I know there isn’t one.
I hope you won’t forget me. Because you carved your name into my heart, and it will stay there forever.
Yours in perpetuity,
Ms. Sanders
After Scotty leaves, I call Chelsea’s cell. She picks up on the first ring.
“Hey. I haven’t heard from you lately. You okay?”
“I’m surviving. You?”
“Slightly better than that.”
We’re quiet for a moment, then she says, “Do you want to get together for drinks?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“Great, I’m off tomorrow. How’s six o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
“Where to?”
“I know where I want to go, but I’m afraid you’ll say no.”
She laughs. “When the hell have I ever said no to you?”
That makes me smile, the first time I’ve done that in a long time. When I tell her where I want to meet, she doesn’t miss a beat.
“Okay. See you then.”
“See you then. I love you, Chelsea.”
She pauses. When she speaks again, her voice is soft and has a slight wobble in it. “I love you too, you nonsensical twat.”
We hang up, and I’m trying not to cry.
The next night, we’re sitting at a table in the middle of the hotel bar in Beverly Hills where I first met Cole.
Because apparently the term “glutton for punishment” was invented for me.
We ordered straight from the bar instead of having the waitress bring us our drinks, a new paranoia I doubt either of us will ever rid ourselves of. I’ve got whiskey, she’s got a skinny margarita, and it feels like old times.