Page 152 of Girls Will Be Girls
“I-” I stutter. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Otto tilts his head like‘Are you kidding me?’.
“What?” I huff.
“You say you’ll take their shit, but your whole career — a career you clearly fucking hate — has been built purely not to take shit from them.”
“So has yours,” I say like a kid arguing with his brother.
“Yeah.” He laughs as if it’s obvious. “I’m pathetic. I’m desperate for their approval. Same as you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t care what they think.”
“Really?” He laughs a little. “That’d be more convincing if you hadn’t just flown to New York to have dinner with them because they insisted.”
I open my mouth to defend myself, but there’s nothing to defend. He’s fucking right. That asshole.
“She doesn’t fit into this life, Lou.” He says. “The one they want for you. They’ll tear her to shreds and you know it.”
“Is this you being chivalrous, then?” I say. “Looking out for her? Doing the right thing?”
His eyes drop from me for a second. When he looks back, he looks tired. He looks so vulnerable. Like a kid.
I don’t think he’s ever looked like a kid in his life.
“I’m just repaying the favor.” He says.
“What favor?”
“The one where you didn’t tell them what I did.”
Silence stretches between us as we both stare at each other.
The thing we never discuss.
The elephant in the room stealing all the oxygen.
“Ugh.” Otto pulls at the top of his hair in frustration, his growl echoing through the silence. “I don’t get it.” He shakes his head. “How? How, when we both had the same upbringing, how did you come out like this- this- this fucking angel, and what do I get to be? Just an asshole.”
His words shock me silent for a moment.
“I don’t want to be like this.” He almost shouts.
“So, you’re just gonna blame our parents for this? For everything you’ve done?” I ask.
He laughs. “You wouldn’t?”
“I mean, sure, yeah, things weren’t great, but you can still choose not to be a dick,” I say frustrated. “I chose not to be a dick.”
“I know you did.”
We stare at each other again, until the question I’ve always wanted to ask, the one I’ve suppressed as far down as I could, fights its way out.
“Why did you do it?” I say softly.
He averts his gaze for a moment, and for the first time, I see regret painted all over him.
“I really did like her.” He says quietly.
