Page 60 of Our Hearts Knew Better

I kick one of the beer bottles closest to me, the clattering sound bringing his focus back to me. “Drinkingwas the cause of this.”

Adam was driving home from our graduation celebration when some guy, who had one too many and got behind the wheel, crashed into his car. I was on my way back with Clarissa. Both survived, no major injuries, except for his. He did get the worst of that. That accident took him from the game.

He had it. He was rightthere. Now no one will take him anymore. He’s a liability.

What a trash twist of fate life pulled.

I was angry with him. I was sad with him.

I was numb with him.

I went through it all with him and I’m still going through it all because of him.

“Maybe it can be the end of it,” he mumbles to the ceiling, then grimaces at himself.

I spin for the glass door, holding to life by the handle. “If you wanted to drink yourself to death, you would’ve done it before now.” And through a strained throat, I bite out, “Talk tomewhen you remember this isn’t just aboutyou.” I yank open the door as “I love you too” scoffs from my mouth, and I disappear into and occupy myself with collecting this damn squash.

“I love you,” he says back, like an answer, small stresses as I’m walking back through.

I stop at the door and face him. Same position, with his head tilted at me, his arm stretched out toward me across the bed.

I hear thebutand I clear my dry throat, swallow, and gesture to him. “You should shower.”

That flare returns to his eyes, but now with a warmed quality, as he hears mytogether. It’s not the first time I’ve tried to get him out of bed with a sexual advance. I can shower twice if that’s what works. But there’s always a fifty-fifty shot of it working here. To not completely lose what we’ve built all these years.

It’s been too much time to be for nothing. To nottryfor another momentary relief from our coils.

All while a little voice says,you’ve already lost.

Adam just stares.

Then he blinks toward the ceiling with a sigh, no movements and no words.

And I suck up my emotions and carry my squash to the kitchen, leaving him to himself with an empty click of the door.

Because I don’t have a choice.

Because I was trained for this life.

Smile and Mean It

Summer

I’ve dealt with enough men inside their head so get the fuck out of it.

That’s what my rage has wanted to say.

That’s what my understanding has kept me from saying.

So it’s the squash that gets the brunt of my warring emotions. The people who live below us, even the people across the hall, can probably hear my chopping. It’s loud, but not careless. I am meticulous with my squash, like my mom would want me to be, and each one is shaped to exact thickness.

I thought about getting myself a bottle of beer. Whichwashard to turn down, another thing I don’t want toget, this way to tolerate your life more, but I still don’t like who I am when I drink. I don’t think I like whoanybodyis when they drink. I got drinking out of my system during my college years.

The squash is sauteing on the skillet when I finally have my phone in my hand, scrolling through my messages.

Wall up, tap in, type out,Adam talked about the end again.

Code for, talk tohim. He seems to listen to Levi more than he does me.

---