Page 30 of Redeem

“Tough crowd,” I muttered and then went back to the topic at hand. “It’s just…things were bad there for a while. Sometimes it seemed like it would be better if I wasn’t around.”

I went silent then, considering what I was saying and how he might react. In some ways, it felt good to tell the truth to someone, but in other ways, it felt awful, especially since I was getting my wish, though now I realized I didn’t want it. I guess it was pretty impressive how easily I managed to sabotage things. In Ciprian, I saw a chance to be close to someone, an opportunity for connection, and I was busily working to toss it away.

When his dark expression didn’t change, I pushed on, wanting to explain myself.

“Look, I don’t know if you know what it’s like, but sometimes things are rough,” I said.

He still said nothing, and I felt almost frantic now, desperate.

“Let me try again,” I said on a rush. “I—”

He raised his hand and shook his head, which stopped me.

“I understand,” he said.

I stared at him, almost not believing it. But I couldn’t disbelieve him, not when everything inside me told me that what he said was true.

“You do, don’t you?” I whispered.

He nodded.

I didn’t know how to describe how that made me feel. Had that ever happened? Had anyone ever understood me, understood what I was going through?

No, they hadn’t.

To think that only a short while ago, I had been intent on him leaving. Now, it seemed unthinkable, unimaginable.

I looked at him, saw that he was studying me.

“Before, you looked…”

“Angry?” he supplied.

I nodded. He had looked angry, and that had been an uncomfortable feeling, one that I didn’t like at all. It also showed me a side of him that I hadn’t seen before.

Angry Ciprian was something that I didn’t think I wanted to see again. But strangely, seeing it, made him seem more human, drew me closer to him.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why was I angry?” he responded.

I nodded, looked away from him.

I heard him move, but still kept my eyes averted, wanted to know the answer to the question, but my discomfort was increasing, especially when I looked at him. That was another feeling I was unfamiliar with. Disappointment at myself was like a second skin, but caring about the disappointment of someone else…

It felt strange. Having someone else’s opinion matter. Having someone else here at all. It made me feel guilty, too.

I had cared for my husband, had devoted myself to building a life with him. But that hadn’t been about him, about us. It had been about me, what I needed and wanted. Awful as it was, he barely fit into the equation. I’d never doubted my ability to give him what he needed, hadn’t really considered what he might have thought of me.

Even after his death, the event that had made me all but give up, it hadn’t been about him. I’d simply done what I thought would protect me, keep me from feeling such deep loss again.

Ciprian was different.

I knew nothing about him. He shouldn’t have mattered at all. But the idea of him finding fault with me, rejecting me, was one I couldn’t process.

So I did what I always did and sank into myself, kept my eyes down, my head down, fighting not to see what would be on his face.

I didn’t look at him, not even when he lifted me from the chair. I allowed myself a moment to thrill at that expression of strength but then kept myself shutdown. I couldn’t take the words back, but that didn’t mean I had to see his rejection of them in action.

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