Page 35 of A Dish Best Served Hot
His mouth hung open. He closed it then opened it again to say something. Anything. Nothing came out, so he sat there flapping his mouth like a fish.
“You would bring me home-cooked meals because Benny and I mostly ate takeout. You gave me positive attention, because I usually only received apathy or scorn. You told me I was pretty and desirable, because everyone else called me unattractive. But you didn’t actually do any of those things for me. You did them for you. To prove to yourself that you were a good person.”
Now he was getting mad. “I did those things because I loved you, Lola. When you love someone you want to make sure they are safe and happy.”
She shook her head again. “You didn’t love me, Saint. If you had, you wouldn’t have kept me on the sidelines of your life, which, by the way, is the real reason I was so upset about you enlisting. To me you were everything. My life revolved around you. But to you I didn’t even factor into your plans. I couldn’t even get an invite to dinner!” She paused and took a deep breath.
“I didn’t want my family to know about us because they were already trying their best to keep me here. They were just as against me enlisting as you were. Probably more. If they would’ve known about us, they would’ve tried to use you to manipulate me into staying. It would’ve made everything that much more difficult.”
“For you,” she exclaimed. “It would’ve made things more difficult for you. Plus, you never mentioned any of that to me. You never really talked to me. You listened, but you barely shared.”
She had a point. There was a lot he hadn’t shared with her. With anyone really.
“Shit,” she continued. “It’s almost twenty years later and I just had to use deductive reasoning to figure out who your siblings are, because you didn’t even introduce me to them now!”
“You introduced yourself! You did everything yourself. You want to talk about keeping someone on the sidelines. You treated me like your distraction. Like your audience. Sure you talked to me about stuff, but after you’d already done or handled it. You wouldn’t let me actually take part. I did all that other stuff because it was all you’d allow me to do.”
“I didn’t need you to save me, Saint! That’s what you don’t get. I wasn’t looking for someone to swoop in and save the day. I just wanted someone to want me exactly as I was without caring what anyone else would think or say.” She turned until she was facing forward again. Not looking at him. “You made me feel bad about myself when I was already struggling to find value in who I was. That is why I’m mad at you.”
Saint turned in his seat and stared into the distance like she did. He sat with her words. He tried to take his feelings completely out of the equation, to put himself in Lola’s shoes. He could see exactly why she’d arrived at the conclusions she’d come to. His private nature had kept him from sharing his thoughts, plans, goals, motivations, etc. Because of that, Lola had second-guessed the sincerity of his feelings. That was one hundred percent on him. “I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t going to tell me that you never wanted to hurt me, that you loved me, and wanted to be with me?” She still wasn’t looking at him.
“Do you want to hear any of that?” he asked. “You’d be the first one to tell me that intentions don’t matter when you hurt someone. Only the pain inflicted matters.”
She nodded. “That’s true.” She paused. “But it might be nice to hear anyway.”
He turned in his seat to face her. “Then look at me.”
She didn’t move.
“Look at me, Canela,” he murmured.
She turned to face him, their knees touching. “What?”
He stared into her eyes, those beautiful eyes that had knocked him off-kilter from the moment he’d first seen them. “I was never embarrassed to be seen with you. You were the smartest, bravest, most beautiful, and most badass girl I’d ever met. You still are. The fact that you wanted to be with me made me proud as hell. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops and I should have. I’ve broken bones. I’ve been shot and stabbed. I’ve fallen through ceilings only to crash to the ground. But the fact that you ever doubted how absolutely amazing you are because of me hurts more than any of that. It guts me, but my pain doesn’t matter. Yours does. I’m so sorry my actions caused it.”
She took a deep breath and released it. “Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”
They stayed like that for a while, just looking at one another.
“Everything makes so much more sense now,” Saint eventually said. “I never understood why you were so upset. I thought you saw me as weak and stupid. It made me angry. It made me want to prove you wrong.”
“No, Saint, I thought you were the strongest person I knew and I admired your confidence in who you were and what you wanted.”
The night before he’d had to ship out for basic training, he’d gone to Lola. They hadn’t talked about their fight; they’d just spent the night in each other’s arms doing their best to share their emotions physically. The following morning, the sun had hardly begun its ascent when they’d said their goodbyes. They’d both been in tears and Saint could feel her pulling away. He’d begged her to wait for him. She’d promised they would talk when he got back. Instead, she’d disappeared. “Imagine how different things would’ve been if we would’ve gotten to have that conversation when I came back from basic training.”
“Imagine how different things would’ve been if we’d just talked about our feelings before you even left.”
True.
Nothing would’ve prevented him from leaving, but at least they wouldn’t have caused each other so much pain. “Lola,” he said after a moment of silence.
“Yes?”
“What was in the letter?”
She sighed. “Does it matter?”
