He says nothing.
I shake my head. “Do you even understand what you did to me?”
Stepping back, he sits down, still gripping my hand and rests his head on my belly. The reminder slams into me. I haven’t even told him about what happened after.
Before I can open my mouth, he looks up.
“The way I handled it after we slept together was awful. I know it was. I have no excuse. It freaked me out. You freaked me out. The way I felt about you. God, then I heard about your dad and realized you’d known about him when we slept together. You’d been grieving. You were in shock. And it fucking broke my heart that I slept with you with you knowing. And I was pissed at you for not telling me and letting us do that. Christ. I felt so ashamed at the way I’d handled us. I still do. Then after the boat going down, the whole thing just got bigger. It’s no excuse. I was a coward. The emotions I was feeling were the most terrifying things I’d ever felt. I didn’t know how to even say sorry. I mean how do you apologize for something like that? I didn’t know. I was young and stupid.”
“You ran.”
He nods and looks down. “And fuck, then I find out it was even worse. I took your virginity that night. You entrusted that to me. And look at how I repaid you. I don’t blame you for how you’re feeling.”
Just say it, Jazz, I tell myself. Just throw it out there. “I got pregnant that night and lost the baby within weeks.”
His head snaps back, his eyes widening in shock. If he paled before, it’s nothing to now. His lips actually turn white.
Just saying it aloud after all these years shocks me too. My mouth feels dry, and I work to get some saliva to swallow.
“Oh, God,” Joey whispers. “Oh my God.” His eyes well and he expels a sharp puff of air.
He stands abruptly and steps past me, his fists bunching. His arms fold, then unfold repeatedly across his chest. Then he grabs behind his neck. He paces. He’s having a complete freak out without saying a word. He walks to the railing and leans against it, his neck and head seeming to sink between his shoulder blades.
Finally, he turns.
Looking at his face right now, I feel like I’m looking at his soul stripped bare. I can see all his pain and all his regret.
“I’m so sorry, Jazz. I’m so fucking sorry.”
And I can tell he is.
My hand comes up of its own accord, resting on his cheek. But he doesn’t lean in or take the comfort I’m offering.
His jaw is tight, and I can see the moment when he sees the fall out. He inhales, like it’s the hardest breath he’s ever drawn. Like my hand is not on his cheek but buried deep in his chest, digging his heart out. “There’s no hope for us, is there?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
I’M ONLY TAKING one suitcase, but inside it I’ve packed another one. I’m not that stupid. I know I’m going to buy tons of useless shit all over South Africa and try and haul it all home with me. “I can handle it, Mom,” I tell her as she tries to take over removing it from the trunk of the car in the airport parking lot.
She sniffs. “Just let me do one more thing for my baby.”
“God, Mom. I’m not dying. I’m just going to another country.” I laugh, but I’m insanely touched that my departure is affecting her so much.
Keri Ann has texted me a gazillion times today already. And sent me instructions from a friend of Jack’s taken from the “dark web” on how to “jail break” my phone so I can use it internationally. I haven’t had a minute to even think about it.
Joey has shown up every day without fail. Just to hang out and accompany me on my ridiculously long list of errands. He hasn’t done one thing to come on to me or to talk about us. He’s simply been relentlessly friendly and kept me laughing. It’s strange to see this side of him again. The Joey who offered me a ride to do my lifeguard training, to drive me home, to drive Keri Ann and me everywhere we wanted to go when we were too young to drive. I can’t imagine the physical effort it’s taken to pretend everything is okay and friendly between us. But I accepted it gratefully. And by the time my departure day rolled around, almost believed we had a true friendship back.
He offered to take me to the airport, and when I told him my mom was doing it, I expected him to insist or at least tag along. But he nodded. And a small part of me hated that he didn’t fight harder.
He’d come by this morning and handed me a small box with instructions to open it on the plane. He hugged me hard and kissed me on the forehead. It was painful as much as it was a relief we wouldn’t have a long drawn out good-bye. Then he slipped out my sliding door and that was that.