Page 50 of Our Final Encore

I give him a weak smile in return, not knowing how to respond.

“I’m gonna turn in soon,” Paul says to no one in particular.

“That’s fine, Dad. Your meds are on the counter.”

I noticed Alex carrying in a bunch of pill bottles, I was wondering what they’re for. I’m relieved to learn they aren’t his recreational drug stash. Even if it’s none of my business. His dadmakes his way down the hall and doesn’t return, and then Alex and I are left alone in the small foyer.

I look up from the floor and see he’s silently staring at me, I’m suddenly acutely aware of the way I look. When we dated I usually wore a full face of makeup and did my hair every day, the way most teenage girls do, now I’m much less fussy with my appearance. I wonder what I look like through his eyes.

It doesn’t fucking matter, Opal.

“You want something to drink?” He says before passing by me to walk into the kitchen.

I hate how formal this all feels. We used to make love on the couch in here, and now we’re acting like complete strangers. “Water, please.”

He goes to the kitchen and fills up a glass with water before grabbing himself a La Croix from the fridge. He sits down beside me, but keeps a few feet of space between us. The same awkward silence from the car ride hangs in the air between us. Maybe this was a dumb decision. Is he even going to talk?

“I wasn’t sober the night that we last talked, I’m sure you’ve gathered that.”

A sarcastic laugh escapes me. “Uh, yeah. You were drunk as fuck and slurring your words.”

A pained look splashes over his face, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Opal, I didn’t even know that we broke up. The next morning I was so confused when I couldn’t get in touch with you, when I was blocked from all of your accounts.”

“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you because you decided to drink too much?”

“No. You shouldn’t, at all.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight. “I knew our relationship was starting to suffer, and I know that was my fault, too. I should’ve tried harder, I should’ve communicated better. I just…I didn’t know how to fix it.”

I’m tempted to say something sarcastic again, but I keep my mouth shut, hoping he’ll saysomethingthat convinces me it was a worthwhile idea to come over here.

“I was headed down a dark path and I didn’t want to drag you along with me. I started pushing you away because I was scared of hurting you, and I know that doesn’t make sense…but nothing I was doing made any sense. I was drunk or high most of the time.”

“That’s not an excuse for cheating,” I say under my breath.

“I didn’t. I know what it looked like, but I was passed out in that photo. I didn’t even know she’d taken it.”

The memory of that picture still haunts me, as much as I wish it wouldn’t. But I can’t deny that he did look half asleep in it, his eyes were closed and his head was slumped against her shoulder. That doesn’t mean I believe a word he’s saying though, anything could have happened during their time together. I was here, alone, while he was living out his dream with her by his side.

“You didn’t fight for us,” I whisper. The truth is that if he had just stopped me from trying to break up with him that night, none of this would have happened. Instead he let me go willingly, and that’s really what hurt more than anything. How little he cared.

“I tried…” he closes his eyes. “I had no way to get in touch with you.”

“You didn’t try, though. You said fuck it, those were your exact words. You didn’t care at all.” A silent tear slides down my cheek and I angrily wipe it away, I don’t want to be sad right now. I don’t want to feel anything. “You could have come back for me and you chose not to.”

“You were going to college, you had real plans for your future. I didn’t want to fuck your life up any more than I had already. I know it sounds crazy, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“College?” my voice comes out as a whisper. “I never even left Willow Grove. I’ve been here this whole time.”

“Baby,” he sighs. He closes his eyes as if it’s painful to look at me.

“No, you don’t get to call me that.” It’s getting harder to hold back the sobs racking my chest. It hurts too much, I can’t do this.

I stand up and grab my purse off the coffee table, rushing toward the front door.

“Opal, please,” he grabs my hand and I pull it away. “Don’t go.”

“No, Alex. I can’t do it. Not again.” I turn on my heel and open the door, pulling it closed behind me and walking out into the rain. My tears mix with the raindrops falling onto my face as I start walking down his driveway toward my house, wrapping my arms around my torso as if I can physically stop myself from falling apart.

I hear the door open behind me, but I keep my head forward and continue walking.

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