Page 107 of In the Long Run
Gen’s just made it very clear that she won’t be asking me to stay, which … fucking sucks.I shake my head and try to push away the pain, because this is a good thing.Now I know where I stand, and I don’t have to face asking Gen for something she’s not prepared to give me.
I spin around and head down the stairs, doing my best to step lightly, which is hard considering my whole body feels like it’s made of cement.I know what will happen if Gen sees me now.She’ll be embarrassed and stammer out something about how she’s sorry that I found out this way.And then her eyes will fill with that look I’ve seen too many times.
It’s pity.And Ican’t.
For some people life is just a series of quiet heartbreaks and disappointment.One day, when the pain fades, I’ll be able to recognise that there can be joy and growth in between the challenging moments.Because it is a gift that I got to be here and fall in love – even if I never got the chance to tell Gen – and that’s something to be grateful for.
But not today.
It’s not Gen’s fault that she doesn’t feel the same way.That I let my hopefulness cloud what must’ve been obvious.I thought I was doing so much better, but here I am being blindsided once again.
I send Gen a quick message blaming the marathon training for exhausting me and tell her I’m having an early night, that I’ll catch her tomorrow for the run.There doesn’t have to be a big dust-up or a conversation that will make us both feel bad.
Sometimes things just are what they are.
And sometimes life just fucking sucks.
36
GEN
I tear my piece of sourdough in half and drag a chunk through the bowl of clam chowder in front of me.
‘Do we know what the baby is yet?’Dad asks.
Mere and Bernie share a cute look.‘Maybe,’ Mere demurs.
‘It’s a boy,’ I guess, grateful for the distraction from my thoughts.
‘I think it’s a girl,’ Dad says.
‘These are great suggestions.’Bernie drapes his arm across the back of Mere’s chair and plays with the ends of her blonde hair.It’s the kind of thing that I would’ve had no trouble imagining Knox doing before this afternoon’s phone call changed everything.All my visions of finding a way for him to join us for casual family dinners and eventually becoming a permanent part of my life are gone.
‘It’s a shame Knox wasn’t able to join us tonight,’ Mum says, like she’s reading my mind.Or, more likely, my face.I force a smile, stretch the truth a little.
‘His godfather’s had a few health issues lately, and Knox wanted to spend the time with him.’
And I’d needed space.Time to swallow the bitter disappointment that everything between us is about to change.It’s funny – not funny, ha ha – how you can know something’s comingand think you understand it, but when it happens it still knocks the wind out you.
I knew he was leaving but I didn’tknowit.
‘Still.It would’ve been nice to see him.Catch up on how things are going.’
It’s a different kind of funny how Mum pretends that Knox’s absence will stop that from happening.I push a clam around my bowl.
‘So?’she presses.
‘Hmm?’I feign confusion.Bernie hides his laugh with an unconvincing cough.
‘What have you two been up to?How are things going?’Mum enunciates each word like she’s giving elocution lessons.
I lift my spoon and blow on the creamy liquid.‘They’re fine.’
‘Fine like maybe one day we’ll all be wondering what gender your and Knox’s baby is?’
‘Mum!’Mere laughs, the sound all light and airy.Her happiness makes my sister heart so happy.‘Give them a chance to get to know each other properly.’
Her attempt to run interference is appreciated, but it’s more important than ever that I lower Mum’s expectations.
