“You signed the offer, Daisy.”
“Lucas, you aren’t listening!”
He brushes past me and tries to make it to his room, but I move in front of him and block his path. My hands are pushing against his chest, keeping him in place when he really wants to plow right through me.
“I’m done with the war, Lucas!” I say, wiggling a crude flag I made out of a toothpick and a ripped square of paper towel. “Done. I surrender. Okay? No more!”
He laughs and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
“There is no war, Daisy. For me, there never was.”
He pushes on my elbows. My arms fold and he passes, just like that.
“What are you talking about?!” I shout after him. “What about the golf, the fruit basket? Oh, and I seem to remember a couple decades of fighting before that too.”
“I realized something today, Daisy, something it has taken me 28 years to understand.”
“Tell me! C’mon, you can’t just walk away from me—from us!”
“There is no us, Daisy! You only care about yourself! You think we’ve been at war for 28 years? Is that what it always was for you? Fighting, for the sake of what? Fighting?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“You’ve been so blinded by the competition you’ve built up in your own head, you can’t see what’s right in front of you—what’s been there the whole fucking time!”
“Tell me then, Lucas! I’m here, begging you to talk to me. You can’t act as if you didn’t fight with me too—you can’t pretend you’ve always wanted this. What about the other girls you dated in college?! What about winter formal girl?”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
The glare he casts my way makes me want to dig my heels in more.
“Why do you think I’ve never had a serious girlfriend? Huh?” He pushes on. “Why do you think I always broke things off before I came home to Hamilton? It was for YOU! Because I wanted you. Every other relationship I’ve had has been a futile attempt to get over you. To move on.”
His words are sharp little daggers, making me feel worse. I fight against them.
“Oh, come on. You can’t just pretend you were Mr. Nice Guy the entire time. Just because you saved the Founder’s Day booth and gave me a place to stay, and…never mind. I’m finished. Did you hear that part? The stupid war is over now. No more!”
He doesn’t listen. He turns and slams his bedroom door and for a good while, I’m standing on the other side, shouting at the wood. I’m trying to plead with him to talk to me, but when he finally walks back out, overnight bag in hand, I can tell he’s not interested in listening. He’s more defeated than I’ve ever seen him.
“You can stay tonight, but then I need you to find your own place.”
He’s not even talking to me. It’s like he’s saying, Apartment, could you please tell Daisy I’m not in the mood to argue and she has to leave.
“No. Stay. I’ll leave. You shouldn’t have to leave your own home.”
But Lucas is already at the door, tugging it open and shaking his head.
He’s gone and my throat hurts from shouting and I realize Lucas never shouted once. When I think back over the years, I’d always assumed our conflict would end with a bang, not silence. Now, we’re done, and the quiet is overwhelming. I waved the flag and Lucas left. 28 years have been wiped out in a single evening and worst of all, that exchange couldn’t even be classified as a fight. It was a one-sided desperate attempt to get Lucas to see reason.
I stand immobile for too long, because the second I realize I could have fought harder and forced him to stay, his truck isn’t parked downstairs anymore. I have no clue where he’s gone.
I try his cell phone in vain. Tonight, Lucas is not going to answer my calls.
What now?