Page 83 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
When we got back home, she rushed out of the car and bounded up the steps. Elvis stood up, whimpering. He normally never did more than raise an eyebrow at us. Even he knew something was wrong.
We’d driven home in excruciating silence. Every time I wanted to say something, I couldn’t figure out any way to fix it.
Because if she was the daughter of an alcoholic, then she deserved someone better than me. I’d fucked up so royally it couldn’t be saved. It didn’t matter that I had 2,190 days of sobriety, and counting. Because in her mind, I was her father.
The fucker.
How could he do that to her? She deserved nothing less than the best. And I couldn’t give it to her.
Still, I couldn’t help it.
I’d fallen for her, like she was a part of me. And ripping her away from me felt worse than any mistake I’d ever made in free running. Any fall I’d suffered. Any injury.
Because she was ripping out my heart and stomping on it, but the problem was it was my own damn fault for being such a fool.
Still, I continued being the lovesick fool, following her up the stairs, into the house, then up the stairs into her room.
“Baby. I need you to let it out. Yell at me. Scream. Please don’t go. Just tell me what you’re thinking. I can take it. I need you in my life.”
She ignored me, got out one of her duffel bags, and started stuffing in clothes, shoes, toiletries, and her laptop. Schmedley rubbed against my legs. “I need to get away. I’m going to go check into a hotel.”
I didn’t want her to go. I wanted her to stay here and work this out. But if she needed to go, I’d let her, and that was one of the most painful things I’d ever done.
So I let her pack, and went downstairs. Having a moment of inspiration, I grabbed a notebook and a pen.
She went downstairs, grabbed her purse and keys, and turned to look at me.
“When you’re ready to talk this out, I’m here.” I handed her the paper. I’d written the time and date of my AA meetings. “If you want to go with me, you can see what I’m all about.”
“Thank you,” she said, and the distance and dignity in her voice crushed me. “I need to take a break and sort out my head.”
The door closed behind her, and she was gone.
