Page 66 of When We Meet Again

Pure dread fillsme as I pull into the gravel lot of my apartment complex. My heart can’t take anymore Huxley brother drama, but alas, here we are.

Time to face the music and set things straight with Patrick. It’s now or never. Well, it’s actually now or later.

I slowly meander from my car to my door, and it opens before I touch it.

“Hey.” Patrick looks terrible. As if he didn’t sleep.

“I’m sorry I ran off.” I follow him inside and he reaches for the remote. But instead of sitting down with it, he turns the television off. Doesn’t mute it, or pause it, but turns it completely off.

“I made you an apology breakfast. Well, with what you have, which isn’t much. Just bacon and bagels.”

I can’t help but smile at the kind gesture. A little bit in shock, to be honest. “Thank you.” I pull out a seat at the kitchen table, but I can barely touch my food. I push the bacon around on my plate, deep in thought.

“Something wrong with it?” Patrick asks with what seems like genuine concern in his words.

“Oh,” I push out. “No. Just a lot on my mind.” I have no idea how to start this conversation. As much as I want to believe he changed, that’s just not the case. But Ihavechanged. Enough to know that I can’t dothisanymore.

“I’m going to take some time. Like, away from you… From youboth. Get my head right?”

“Is that a question?” Always so literal.

I take a bite of bacon with a bit of aggression. “No. I need some time away from the Huxleys and have the chance to focus on myself. I need to find myself, Patrick. Who I am without either of you, and then maybe my path will lead me…”Lead me back to Roman. But I don’t say ‘back’ to Patrick. Quite frankly, at this juncture of my mental anguish, my life is as predictable as death itself.

“Do you think that’s necessary?” he bites out. Nothing about him is supportive. Never has been supportive. He presented like he was. Said all the ‘right’ things. But it’s as clear as day, now that I’ve been without him for so long. Now that I’ve been with someone who’s never faulted me for having thoughts or ideas of my own.

I toss the rest of the bacon onto my plate. “Yes, in fact, it is. So, I’m not sure where you’re going to stay, but I suggest you take your things and find somewhere else. They’re in a box in the closet. I never got around to dropping them at your mom’s house.” I shove the chair back away from the table, creating a loud scratching sound against my poor wooden flooring.I’m sorry, floor.

“There’s one more thing before I forget.” I feel his eyes watch me leave the room and find me again when I re-enter. “This is your mother’s ring.” I unfasten it from the chain I had it on and hold it out for him to take.

“It’s yours.”

“It’s not. I really can’t have this argument right now, Patrick. Please!”

He snatches it from my fingers aggressively, shoves the ring in his pocket, and storms out of the kitchen, leaving me standing in the kitchen alone.

Foul words are pouring from his mouth from the bedroom. “Motherfucker.”

He stomps out with the large box filled with the only stuff he had here. “I hope this is what you want, Waverly”Is it?Well, I surely don’t want to become a shell of a human again. I don’t want to wonder if he’s mad at me or if I’ve done something wrong. And I certainly don’t want to have to walk on eggshells my entire life with someone who is supposed to love me unconditionally. More than anything, I don’t want to have to cater to his needs while mine are left out to dry.

“Yes.” I walk to the door and hold it open for him. He stands there dumbfounded, just staring at me. He’s unable to mask the look of disbelief, crossed with a smidge of hurt that flashes through his bright gray eyes, and I turn my head so I don’t do something that the old Waverly would do. Apologize and not be able to standmy ground for fear of not pleasing everyone.

More stomping. He finally reaches the top of the steps to head down before he rearranges the box in his hands. There’s a lot of words still unspoken between us, but there’s something I need to say, “Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“I know things have been weird…” I rub the back of my neck trying to relieve some of the tension in my muscles. “But Iamglad you’re alive and back home.”

He nods and makes his way down the steps and to his car. This is for the best. I have to tell myself it is.

With Patrick gone, I close the door on him, and on that chapter of my life. I’m ready to take back my life, free of all Huxley men…for now.

But before I do, there is one person I really need to talk to.My mom.

“I thoughtyou wanted to go to the Art Institute?” my mom asks before she takes a long sip of her mimosa. After I called her and told her what’s been going on the past year of my life, and not just surface conversation about the weather, she bought a plane ticket and flew out the same day. I told her everything. It isn’t just about the Huxley’s. But I’m lost. I’m forty years old, for God’s sake. I’m a sublime failure because I have no fucking clue what I want to do with my life.

She held me while I sobbed. Called for reinforcements, aka Victoria. Now my mom has been here, sleeping in my guest bedroom for five months now.

I love her. I really do. But as much as I love having her and helping me, there’s a reason why after you flee the nest you don’t go back.

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