Page 101 of The Last Good Man

“No, I won’t.”

“Why?”

He has his gaze on me again.

“You’re afraid I may be right,” he says.

I sigh.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

I pull up a little and press my back into the pillow, my chest exposed, partly concealed by my hair.

“Tell me what you know,” I say.

He lifts an eyebrow and drags his gaze down before shifting his eyes away.

“You’ve reached a dead end,” he says.

18

MELODY

“You thought you had it right, and now you realize there is a price to pay. And it’s not what you thought it would be.”

He pauses while his words echo in my head.

“All we get in life is what we focus on,” he continues. You worked hard to climb the corporate ladder. You've made it, and it's admirable, but there’s a problem. That kind of life comes with men like Thomas.”

It hits me how accurate his statement is. Yet he thinks someone like him is truly an option?

I’m not talking about how stunning he is.

I’m talking about how different our lives are.

“It’s convenient for you to say that,” I argue.

“It looks that way, doesn’t it? The man from the other side of the tracks is trying to convince you to ditch a life of luxury and––allegedly––solid men for what exactly? A life in a trailer?”

He stops again.

“That’s not what I was saying,” he goes on. “Me wanting you and him being a terrible choice can be simultaneously true. Everything in life comes with good and bad. There’s something ugly behind the most appealing things. I’m sure you have a side like that. I know I have. When we choose something, we get the good with the bad. In time, the good no longer hits that sweet spot for us, while the bad is there to stay, clear and harsh, more potent than ever. Losing the good makes us want something new. And sometimes, it makes us regret that we can’t go back and choose something different. Ultimately, it’s all a dead end, and the only thing that matters is how we live. I’d personally pay a different price instead of feeling stuck.”

I stare at him for a few good moments.

“How do you know all that? It happened to you?”

“No. I’ve seen it happen to other people. And it happened to you,” he says,bringing his gaze tome. “Am I right?”

I mull over an answer.

“I don’t know… I really don’t know,” I say, avoidinghiseyes.

I can’t say he’s one hundred percent right.

Although, he is. But things are not asclear–cut as he wants them to be.

Some dead ends are comfortable. They come with accomplishments: things, people, and family.

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