Page 102 of Beyond the Bright Lights

He stands, wavers, and plants a hand on the vehicle to keep himself upright. “Can we go somewhere else to talk about this?” He glances to our friends. Their heads are lowered, sad and disappointed.

“No. They need to hear it too.”

He sighs, defeat weighing down on him. “Because I thought that was my only option. I thought I had let my life get so out of control, there was no hope left for me.” The water, or perhaps the serious situation at hand, must have sobered him up fast. His speech isn't as slurred or incoherent. “I was losing jobs, no one would hire me. I fucked it all up and my career was over. I was a disappointment. And the people in my life, Bruno and Eloise, I was about to lose them. They were on the brink of quitting.”

“Not true,” Bruno says at the same time Eloise blurts out, “Bullshit.”

Mylan purses his lips at them.

“Still, it wasn’t fair to them. I thought if I . . . ended things . . . everyone would be better off.”

“And now? Do you feel the same?”

“No. Of course not. I . . .” He moves closer to me, and I step back. The hurt that crosses his face stings.

“It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?”

“No, Lana, this is nothing.”

“Nothing? Mylan, you drank. You drank and crashed a car into my sign. And after knowing what happened to my parents—”

A sob cuts off my words.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You can’t make promises you never plan to keep.”

I cross my arms over my stomach. I was prepared to give this man my future. I was prepared to begin a life with him. How foolish was I to believe he was ready for that?

How did he get out after only thirty days? He needed to stay longer. I’m sure he worked his celebrity magic to stop them from keeping him.

“You fucked up. I told you the moment you fucked up, I’m out. And this,” I point to the wrecked car, “this is unforgivable. You need help.”

His face contorts with a few emotions. Fear, pain, anger. He sticks with anger.

“I need help? What about you? You think you’re better than me because you have your life together. But do you? Do you really? Because I’m not the one who can’t move on. You’re living in the past.”

My skin lights up in fury. “You’re only saying those things because you’re wasted and feeling hopeless. Do you think being cruel to push me away will protect you?”

He sobs and moves towards me too fast. I’m not able to stop him from wrapping his strong arms around me. He cries into my neck, fisting the fabric of my dress.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please. Please. Please. I’ll get better. I’ll get better for you.”

“That’s the problem, Mylan. You need to want to get better for yourself.”

I let him cry for a few minutes, his tears soaking the exposed skin of my shoulder.

After a minute, at least, the sobbing subsides and he pulls away, hiccupping to catch his breath. “What if I’m too broken? What if I can’t be fixed?” he whispers.

“You’re not too broken. And you can be fixed.” I palm his cheek.

“You’ll never forgive me for this.”

You fucked up. I told you the moment you fucked up, I’m out . . . This is unforgivable.

I wince as my words repeat in my head. I shouldn’t have said them. I was angry, and he’s so vulnerable right now. Still, he needs to take responsibility.

“You can earn my forgiveness, Mylan, by getting help.”

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