“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
I’ve seen Alexander happy, turned on, mischievous, angry, but the dark, brooding expression on his face isn’t one I’ve ever seen directed at me. Until this moment. When he doesn’t respond, moments from our three-year relationship start to flash through my head . . .
“Why me?” I’ve only spent a small amount of time with him. When I look at him, how handsome he is, how strong he is, I can’t see it, what he sees in me.
Touching my cheek, he presses his forehead to mine, and whispers, “I want to see you again. I want to see you every day.” Leaning back, he looks into my eyes. “Do you want to see me again, Sara Jane?”
It was such a loaded question for an innocent girl, especially one already so blinded by love. We’ve fought, we’ve made up, we’ve laughed, we’ve fucked, and we’ve made love over and over again. Our relationship has been a roller coaster. But my answer will always be the same. Yes, I want to stay. But he’s not asking me to stay here. He’s asking me to leave . . . if I want to. “Alexander?” I wait, my heart aching in ways I’ve never felt. Will he actually let me walk away?
He rests his ankle across his knee and looks eerily similar to his father sitting at the head of the table this morning. I stand, and he finally speaks, “Sit.”
Our stares are guns, ready to fire and weighted with pain and anger as we silently challenge each other. Again, he says, “Sit down, Sara Jane.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I shake my head, unable to speak with the same authority in which he speaks to me. He stands before me, reaching his full six-foot-three height, and towers over me. “Please.”
Taking in a jagged breath, I relent and sit down. I’m not sure if I’m losing a battle or winning the war by doing so, but with the years I’ve invested, I know my heart is not my own. I’ll sit another minute. I owe him that much. “That’s twice today you’ve taken a tone with me as if you own me.”
“I do own you. You can’t argue that.”
“I can argue that you’d be lost without me.”
“I was lost when I met you.”
My emotions are exposed instantly when my eyes begin to water. I feel as though I’ve been slapped. “Why are you talking to me like this, like I don’t mean anything to you?”
He leans forward again and looks around before turning back to me. “You mean everything to me. Everything, Firefly, but I have enough bullshit to deal with. If you’re not happy, I’m not going to make you stay.” Not going to make me stay. He knows he could though, yet he’s abandoning that position. A lot like how I feel right now. Abandoned.
“Why do you sound relieved from the thought of me leaving?”
“You know, deep down, it would be better for you to go. Both of us know that. Doesn’t mean I want you to, but I don’t know if I can make you happy any longer.”
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to try anymore. “You sound like your father.”
I’m met with narrowed eyes and a curious crease in his forehead. Tilting his head, he asks, “And what would you know about my father?”
“For as long as we’ve dated, it’s interesting how little I know about him.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
I pull the invitation from my backpack and drop it on the table between us.
He grabs it and without even opening it asks, “Why do you have this?”
“You know what it is?” His silence answers my question. “Why, after all these years, is your father inviting me to one of his parties?”
I see his Adam’s apple bob with a thick gulp, and he glances to Cruise just outside the dusty window. When he looks back, he asks, “What’s going on?”
“I had breakfast with your father, though I lost my appetite early enough I’m not sure I can say I actually ate anything.”
His left hand begins to shake before his other hand covers it. Any of the kindness I’m used to seeing in his eyes has disappeared. “Were you going to tell me?”
“That’s why I texted you to meet me. I just didn’t expect to find you flirting with Maya when I arrived.”
“I wasn’t flirting. She came over to me.”
“If that had been some guy talking to me, with his hand on me, you would have been furious.”
“There was a guy. Who the fuck was that?”
“Nobody that matters.”
“He knew your name so he’s obviously somebody.”
“He’s a guy from class. Like I said, nobody. So don’t turn this around on me.” I sit back tucking my legs under me, trying to physically pretend this conversation is not an argument. “I had every intention of telling you about breakfast and this invitation when I arrived on campus this morning.”
“Tell me now.” His lips are tight as he stares at me like he’s seeing me in a new light.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” I grab my backpack and swing it over my shoulder before snatching the invitation out of his hand.
My wrist is grabbed before I can walk away. He stands again and steps as close as he can to me, his chest pressed to my shoulder. “I’m tired. I didn’t get any sleep—”
“Then maybe you should have stayed in bed with me.”
I’m released and he turns his back. His breath is harsh, his temper hidden from view, and I walk out. When I see Cruise, he says, “See you later, SJ.”
Keeping my head down when I pass, I hide the tears in my eyes and reply, “Later.”
I don’t know how I manage to hold it together all the way back to campus. Maybe it’s the humiliation I feel inside, the same feeling I want to hide from the world. He’s never spoken to me in that way, in that tone, or looked at me as though I was duplicitous. Until now.
I’m late to my first class, and as per my professor’s rule, I’m locked out. “Damn it.” I sigh, defeat dropping my shoulders. I head outside and across the quad to sit on an open bench. I’m not sure if it’s the weather that’s turned chilly or the fight I just had lingering in my veins, but I shiver in response.
Looking around, I’m relieved he didn’t follow me. My thoughts are all over the place, and I can’t seem to pinpoint why we’re even fighting. I lie down on the bench and close my eyes. When was the last night I had enough sleep? When was the last time he stayed through the night? Walking out of that coffee shop replays in my head. Everything with him is an enigma leading to more buried secrets. I still don’t have the answers I want or need and it doesn’t seem Alexander’s ready to share.
At one time, I was okay with him having a life outside the one he had with me. He wasn’t cheating and I was busy with school, so I let a lot slide. But after this morning, I can’t pretend like I used to . . .
The tips of our fingers come together with the blue sky as a backdrop. My head rests on his lap while he leans against the base of a tree and the spring air fills my lungs. I love the simple times with Alexander the best. Being at the park today reminds me how busy our lives have become since I started college last fall. He takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, then confesses, “I miss you sometimes.”
“I miss you all the time.”