Page 34 of The Consequence of Loving Me

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Veronica

I do what I always do. I flee. At first, I walk around aimlessly for what seems like hours. While I walk around the campus, my head runs rampant with my past. Every memory Connor and I made the year we were together flashes through my mind.

The way he made me feel.

The way I felt when he died.

The way I haven’t felt since.

The way I feel again, because of Maverick.

Because of stupid, considerate, compassionate, Maverick.

I wasn’t supposed to feel like this again. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. I shouldn’t be feeling anything. The moment that Connor lost his life in front of me—because of me—I lost any chance at feeling this way again. I don’t deserve it. I don’t want it.

All I do is destroy. I’m a toxic person. My love is poison. I’ve poisoned one person already, enough for him to lose his life over it. I won’t let it happen again.

The months that turned into years after Connor’s death were all awful.

Connor’s parents were devastated. Everyone looked at me differently. They either pitied me or blamed me for Connor’s death. My parents continuously tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, but they weren’t there. They didn’t realize he wouldn’t have been in the water if it weren’t for my childish games.

I didn’t hold him under the water until his lungs gave out, but I might as well have.

I survived—barely—in that town for three years before I had to leave. After taking online college courses for an extended amount of time, I told my parents I was going to college thousands of miles away. Then I left, saying goodbye to no one other than them.

My feet now take me to Lenny’s of their own accord. I’d been too lost in my thoughts to even figure out where I was drifting to. I look around the dive bar, trying to clear my head.

When Maverick had asked me what happened to Connor, I panicked. I didn’t want to tell him what I’d done. I didn’t want him to look at me the same way the people in my whole hometown did. Like I was this disease. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes—the disgust. But at the same time, I almost want to divulge this secret to him.

I want to rip my heart open, let him look at every broken and dark piece of me. I want him to take a magnifying glass to every cut and bruise against my heart. The consequences of my actions written all over my soul. I want to know if he’d still want to be my friend once he’s seen it all.

He shouldn’t want to stay close to me after knowing.

I won’t let him stay close to me after knowing.

Lenny’s is considerably empty. There are the regulars lining the bar, some of them having hushed conversations with one another, but most are just staring into their half-empty drinks. For a brief moment, I wonder what each of their stories are.

Are they drunks?

Have they gone through a monumental loss like I have?

I realize I don’t really care. My grief still overwhelms me so much it’s hard for me to even fathom someone else’s life being as bad as mine.

My selfishness killed Connor. And yet, I can’t stop being selfish. I can’t imagine someone else feels the kind of pain I do when I look back at that night. Maybe it’s the fact that my pain is magnified by my guilt over it all.

Lenny nods at me from behind the counter as I walk past him to the back booth. I slide across the worn, red vinyl seat. A slow depressing song plays over the speakers as I look around. This very booth is where we sat when Lily convinced me to go out with the group for the first time. I sat in this same spot and watched Maverick and Selma have an intimate conversation, blind to the people around them.

In that instant, I hated them.

They had each other. They were alive.

I’d sat there glaring at them until Lily lightly elbowed me. The look she’d given me had been unreadable. In the moment, I had wondered if she thought I was jealous.

I was, but not for the reasons she probably thought.

Now, I scrape at the worn wood of the table. Every inch of it is covered in writing. I’m lost in my thoughts until I sense someone walk up to the table.

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