Page 38 of The Other Side of Apart

I have tried to fix it—to help him see the tiny sliver of good—because I have to stay strong. But it’s exhausting. This isn’t what either of us wants, but I don’t know how to make things better. He’s got no idea how I feel because all he can do is think about himself—what he’s lost, like I didn’t lose anything when Nick showed up. But I lost Marcus, and I lost hope.

“What am I supposed to say?” I burst before I can stop the eruption. “I’m sorry a million more times? Because I am. I’m sorry we’re here. I’m sorry you left Stanford. I’m sorry you lost your scholarship and your soccer team. I’m sorry we ever went to L.A. and that you had to meet Olivia. I’m sorry she’s your mom and that you look like her and that she’s the worst. I’m sorry your life isn’t what you want and that you think punishing me with silence will make anything better.”

“Oh really? You’re being punished? Is that how you feel?” His words cut and anger slips from the gashes inside me.

“Yes! I didn’t tell you to come. You chose to be here and now I get to walk on eggshells because you made the wrong choice. You act like you’re the only one who lost things, but somehow, you forget that I had to run from my life, too. But I had to, you didn’t. You could have stayed like I know you wanted to. So why don’t you just go back and forget all of this ever happened?”

He turns away from me, grabs his bag, and yanks things out of it, throwing everything into a pile on the lumpy sofa.

I glare out the window while he silently opens drawers and hangs his clothes on flimsy wire hangers, then shoves his bag in the top of the closet.

The tension’s too deep to wade through even if I knew what to say, but when the silence gets too heavy, it cracks my resolve. “Marcus, I?—”

He shakes his head. “I can’t talk about this right now. If I do, things are gonna fly out of my mouth. So I’m gonna go for a ride.” He grabs his motorcycle key and heads for the door. “Maybe I’ll find a job while I’m at it so we can stay here forever.”

CHAPTER 19

I’ve never had to look for a job before. After today, I never want to again. Dad wouldn’t let me work during school, even when I begged to work with Ty at his dad’s electric bike shop. He said school and soccer was my job. And then it really was at Stanford. When I had everything paid for. Handed right to me. Everything, all of it. And now, I’m parking the bike in front of a busted-up wasteland of a motel, no hope in sight among the homeless people strewn across the sidewalks and beside dumpsters. All of them too consumed by their own misery to notice me just sitting here, idling. They’ve lost it all. I’m only one small step ahead, and that’s only because I have enough money to cover a few weeks here. If Stanford rejects my leave of absence request and Nick never gets caught? Who knows.

I shut off the engine and stare at the almost-empty gas gauge. Just like me, almost empty, and it’s gonna take a lot more than pulling up to a pump to get me up and running tonight. Or tomorrow. Any day after this.

I close my eyes, sink into the motorcycle seat under all the weight of the last two days. First the Stanford loss, then Olivia. Her super awesome news about wanting to put me up for adoption. Major rejection streaked all over the last 48 hours.Massive disappointment. I don’t know why I care. I already knew she didn’t want me, so what does it matter if I was barely born or ten months old? Why do I feel like I’ve failed at something just by existing?

I look at the motel room door, hoping Mei’s just behind it. A bunch of cracked, crumbling asphalt and a dented metal door between us. I’ve failed at a lot of things lately. After our fight earlier, I wouldn’t be surprised if she left. It’s my fault, and I know it. I’ve gotta figure out how to not take all my frustration and resentment out on her. I made the choice to leave San Francisco. Stanford. None of this is her fault. It’s Nick’s. But I made the choice to stay with Mei, so now I gotta figure out how to be happy about it, or I lose her. It can all go away so fast like it almost did the first time we fought.

I put the lock on my ignition, make sure everything’s out of the bike, and drag myself to the door, ignoring the guy ranting to himself on the second-floor landing.

I slip inside the murky motel room, close the door, and lean against it. Mei’s curled up on the bed, one of my hoodies wrapped around her like I should be. I switch off the yellow lamp and sink into the chair by the window, absorbing the quiet. Light from the blinking neon motel sign seeps through the crack between the curtains. Its pattern numbs my mind, and I blink only when my eyes burn, demanding me to concentrate on immediate needs instead of “whats,” “ifs,” and “whys.”

Leaning my elbows on my knees, I rub my hands down my face. I haven’t said more than “I’m sorry” to Mei in over eight hours and that was in a text. Nothing else since I left her in this rathole while I looked for a job so we can afford more rathole time.

Yelling outside the window pulls my head up, and I crane my neck to see a guy and girl standing by some crappy car, fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. The guy’s in her face,and she’s pummeling his chest, but he grabs her neck and goes nose-to-nose, a string of profanities audible despite the drone of traffic on the interstate behind the building.

My heart speeds up when he slams her against the car. I stand, pulling my phone from my pocket to call 911, but stop when the girl yanks the driver’s side door open and jumps inside before squealing from the parking lot, leaving the guy standing alone.

“That’s right! Keep driving, ’cause if you stop, you’re dead!” he yells at the disappearing car. He spits on the ground and lights a joint.

My heart’s yo-yo-ing between my throat and stomach as I stare at him in his tattered jeans and baseball jersey. He takes a drag, white smoke curling around him like he has nothing better to do after assaulting and threatening to kill a girl.

Apparently, there are guys like that all over the place. We just ran from one. Nick’s treated Mei like that before—worse, even. And he could’ve done it again two days ago. Mei had to be just as scared as that girl, but didn’t have a car to jump into. I don’t know. Mei hasn’t really talked about it besides the basic details she told me in Seattle. And I haven’t asked because I’ve been too caught up in my own issues.

The guy sits in the parking lot, face turned toward the sky. Smokes his joint, picks at asphalt. Talks to himself. The girl’s long gone, and I hope she stays far away from him.

I ease back in the chair. Emotions push against my chest, uncurl, knot, tangle, sink to the bottom of me. I lean forward, face in my hands, and let all the emotions push up and out of me. Swearing to myself, I swipe at tears. Swallow nausea from realizing not only what I lost when we ran, but what I almost lost if Mei hadn’t run as fast as she did from L.A. If we hadn’t left Stanford, I might be sitting alone on an empty soccer field like I was the first time I thought I lost her but this time, I wouldn’thave been given another chance. If Nick had gotten to Mei, there wouldn’t be enough soccer fields or scholarships in this world to keep me from taking myself out of it.

I watch her sleep in the purple haze in the room, my heart cracking and shifting. Settling back into its place. All the emotions leak out and burn as they trail down my face. When I get control of myself, I kick off my shoes, take off my shirt and pants, then slide under the sheets. Scooting next to Mei, I wrap her in my arms, and she stirs, her arms slipping around my neck, my wet cheek against her collarbone.

“I’m so sorry, Mei,” I choke, holding her tighter. Her heart beats against my chest and I want to absorb it, pull it into me. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers into my hair, but her voice is flat, and I’m not sure she means it, because we both know nothing’s really okay right now and may never be again. But from now on, I’m gonna try my hardest to make it that way.

The world’s a little brighter this morning as I wrap my towel around my waist and step out of the bathroom, ruffling the excess water out of my hair. On the bed, Mei’s scrolling on her phone. Probably reading San Francisco news like I do every day, just in case Nick’s been picked up and it’s safe for us to come out of hiding. We don’t talk about it, though. Whenever I bring up Nick, she shuts down, so I back off. I don’t wanna stir anything up that she doesn’t want stirred.

She watches me walk toward her, her eyes sending an invitation I won’t resist. I smile as I crawl across the bed and kiss my way to her lips. Yeah, today’s definitely gonna be better than the last five days when we could barely look at each other andtensed every time we accidentally touched. She’s tense now for a very different, way better reason.

Thirty minutes later, we drift back to reality together and I lean my forehead on her collarbone. “Ten minutes before I have to leave for my interview,” I murmur against her skin.

She protests so I kiss her long and deep, then groan as I tear myself from her, glancing over my shoulder on my way back to the bathroom. I pause, turn around, then grit my teeth and shake my head when she laughs, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me. Barking my frustration through a smile, I step into the bathroom and check the time on my phone, holding my breath when I see a new email. From Stanford. I click on it, my eyes skimming the response to my leave of absence request: APPROVED.

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