Page 51 of The Other Side of Apart

I jump up and follow her, but she closes the door, locks it. “It was the third time, Mei. Thethird timethat loser stole our lives.” Feelings and information I’ve pushed down rise, and my chest is full again. I want the extra space back.

The toilet flushes on the other side of the door, and I wait, pressure building. I’m tired of feeling bloated with things I never wanted and things I’ll never tell her and things I don’t understand, like why Nick won’t give it up. Why she lets him shove fear down our throats and acts like it’s just the way thingshave to be. I hate thinking it, but I’ve wondered if there’s more to the story she’s not telling me. Her accusations erupt in me like fire as I talk through the door. “I had everything, Mei—a dad, a scholarship, a life I wanted. I had it all, and Nick took it, and you were never going to stop him, so I made the choice not to tell you. Because I’ve never understood the whole Nick thing with you and never will unless there’s more to that story. Is there?”

I close my eyes, my back against the wall. I know I’m being a jerk; she was going to find out eventually, and now she knows. And on top of it, she doesn’t feel well but neither do I. It’s getting harder to drag up anything but tired, stifled resentment. And there’s more that I haven’t told her. Like Dad’s ultimatum at Stanford. That I’m still enrolled there, and I plan on keeping it that way.

The toilet flushes again, the faucet runs, and then Mei’s voice splits the tension from inside the bathroom. “I know. You had it all. But I lost things, too. There are things I miss, and I’m sorry you miss your dad, but?—”

“Should Inotmiss him?”

The door opens, and she leans back against the counter. “Of course you should.”

“Yeah, well that’s good because I do. I miss it all.”

“Marcus, I get it. I miss things, too. You’re not the only one who gave up a life and hopes and dreams.”

“There’s a difference between us, and you know it.” I throw my arms out and walk to the window, my back to Mei.

But silence is the only response to my outburst. And it makes me angrier. I rub my forehead where loud, obnoxious thoughts crowd my mind. But they’re right—it could’ve all been so different. It could have been so,so?—

I swear.Loudly.But it feels too good coming out that I say it again, louder, slamming my palm into the wall. Anger oozesfrom me, and if I don’t direct it at something inanimate, I’ll hurl it at Mei again.

“Marcus…”

I whirl around. “No—don’t.” I don’t want her to calm me down. I want to rage; I’ve been talking myself down and controlling my irritation for too long, and it’s too big now. She pretends the past never happened, but I can’t. This is my chance to empty myself of all the negative, heavy feelings I’ve dragged around and added to every time we’ve had to start over.

“Things didn’t have to be like this, but here we are, hiding out in some random town so the Chinese mafia won’t find us, pretending they don’t exist. We never talk about it. You don’t talk about it, or what Nick did to you, or anything that happened before us. And I know it’s all in there.” My body’s rigid, the heat from my rage scorching my throat as it comes out from deep inside. “Why is he following us? Did he threaten you? Did he warn you? We have to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t. And I don’t know why he’s following us. If I did, I would’ve stopped him long ago.”

“There’s a reason. There’s gotta be a reason. He’s not just doing it for fun. What did he do to you? And why will you never talk to me about any of it?”

“Because there’s no point. Whatever he did is in the past, and I’ve moved on, but you’re stuck in the past. Like you never left Stanford. Maybe even San Francisco.”

Words push against my chest, fill my mouth, blur my vision. I did leave myself at Stanford, and I’ll be back. I’m not doing this life forever. “Our life could’ve been totally different right now.”

“So what you’re saying is…all of this is my fault.” She steps out of the bathroom toward me. “Because I won’t talk about all the bad things that happened in my life before I even knew you. Because I don’t want to give the past air to breathe, because if I do, it might come back to life. And you’re mad about it becauseyour life doesn’t look exactly like you want it to. Or maybe you’re mad because you chose to come with me and don’t want to take the blame for that.”

I close my eyes. It’s easier to be angry when I can’t see her, but it’s still red hot against my closed eyelids, and it has nowhere else to go. But then she steps in front of me, and I open my eyes to hers. They’re sad. Hurt. Betrayed. And my anger deflates, slumps inside me and solidifies like a rock in my stomach. “I’ve tried to make things perfect, but perfection isn’t possible in this scenario, Mei. I’ve given thiseverything. What more do you want from me? How should I feel about giving up everything? Should I be happy about it? Should I not want what I had? What I still could have? Because I do. I want it every single day.”

I swear, trying to catch my breath, but there’s fire in my chest. I bolt past Mei and inside the bathroom so I can break down in private. I’ve held it in for so long, it’s grown into an unmanageable beast, and it hurts coming out, clawing and scratching and thrashing.

But none of it hurts as much as the look on her face just now. I hurt her bad—Mei, the one thing I still have. Isn’t she the only thing that really matters? The one thing I chose.The girl I wanted so bad, I gave up my world for her.

This isn’t her fault.I’m the one who was so desperate to keep her that I came up with this stupid plan. But I’ve still almost lost her, more than once. To Nick—to the guy who intentionally hurt her. Like I just did.

She’s right: I lied to her. But I’ve also lied to myself about how everything I lost didn’t really matter to me. No matter how much I love Mei, the life I wanted still matters to me and I don’t wanna let it go. I still want it. And I hurt Mei because I’m thinking only of myself and what I want, just like Nick.

Cold realization trickles through my veins, into my chest and up my throat, and I rip the small mirror off the wall, unable to look at myself. What have I done?

Exactly what you said you’d never do.

No, I love her. I’ve proven it over and over.

But the words I just threw at her didn’t sound like love.

Panic takes control and I stumble from the bathroom, afraid I’ll find an empty living room like I did all those months ago at The Clubhouse. The night I thought I’d lost her because of more stupid words I said.

But she’s there, crying silently on the couch, Charlie in her arms. Wrecked. Again. But this time, it’s all because of me.

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