Page 71 of Chasing Stars
I’m so emotionally exhausted from the surprise visit with Erin that I immediately fall into bed. Jenna has work today—I should call her and make sure she’s okay. She left here in a hurry when Erin showed up unannounced, marched into the kitchen and made herself at home. As if the last two years never happened. But I’m in no shape to talk to Jenna right now.
My head is pounding and I wince, rubbing my temples as I recall the conversation.
“You can’t just show up here like this, Erin.” I had said. It came out harsher than I meant it too, but I was already spiraling after the woman I love walked out the door.
Erin looked like she had rehearsed something to say but her face fell at the sound of my voice. “I’m here for Sadie’s wedding…she said you aren’t going.” Her voice was quiet. “I just wanted to see you.”
Sadie was one of Erin’s first friends when she moved here. I’d been invited too but I declined—I knew better.
Erin cracked a joke about my surfer hair; said I look well. She tried to make me laugh but I kept my distance, preferring to remain on the opposite side of the kitchen island.
“I miss you, Miles,” Erin said after fifteen minutes of torturous small talk. She reached across the space for my hand.
I pulled back.
Then she asked if I thought we made a mistake. I shook my head adamantly.
“No,” I said. “We didn’t make a mistake. Youbrokemy heart.” I muttered. “And even still, if this were three months ago, I might’ve considered…this.” I wave at the space between us. “Seeing where it goes.” I shook my head. “Not now. It’s too late.”
“Is it because of her?” Erin asked but she knew the answer.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you love her?” Erin had asked, her expression anguished.
“Very much,” I said. I didn’t move. I would not apologize for moving on.
That’s when she fell apart—loud, aching sobs that used to destroy me. Not anymore. I still felt sorry for her—but not forusanymore. When it was clear she wasn’t going to win me over, she turned angry. She criticized me for the way I treated her. She said I love-bomb every girl I date until I smother them, and they leave me. But somehow it was stillmyfault we broke up—that I didn’t try hard enough to keep us together.
I just sat on the couch and took the abuse. I let her berate me until she tired herself out. I told her Ididtry. But my protests were weak. I gave everything I had to that marriage, and it was never enough. Maybe that’s the part I needed to come to terms with:I was never enough. When she grew tired of the fight, she left and slammed the door. But instead of feeling relieved, I feel wrecked all over again.
It’s not that I want Erin back. Not even close. But seeing her is a stark reminder that I failed our marriage. She reminded me how fast love can disappear. And now Jenna’s gone too.
I pull the covers up to my neck and lay on Jenna’s pillow, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. It does little to bring me comfort. I close my eyes, letting the weight of the morning pull me under, but I’m haunted by a persistent thought as I drift off.What if I’m the reason it never works?
I wakeup hours later in a panic. Jenna’s side of the bed is empty. The room feels drafty. I wipe sleep out of my eyes and look around, confused. Some of Jenna’s things are gone, the rest are scattered across the room. I reach for my phone and see that it’s four o’clock. Jenna has called and texted me multiple times. I haven’t spoken to her since she left this morning.
I fucked this up. I can’t believe I never called her. “God, you asshole,” I groan.
I let Erin get in my head. I let her come in here and make me feel terrible about myself and my new relationship, just because I wouldn’t cave to her. She didn’t get her way, and she reminded me what a fuck up I am. Now, I’m actually living up to that. I’ll never be good enough for Jenna.
A loud banging on my front door startles me. If it’s Erin again, I’m really not in the mood. I throw myself out of bed and walk to the door just as Jenna barges through it. Relief floods me—until I see the expression on her face. She’s pale, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She’s holding a newspaper article. A golf ball size lump forms in my throat.
You have to tell her, because if she finds out on her own, it’s going to blow up in your face,my mother’s stern voice echoes in my mind.
“Jenna,” I breathe, walking toward her, ready to throw my arms around her in relief.
“Miles, what the fuck.” Jenna stops in her tracks, and much to my dismay, does not fall into my open arms. She waves the newspaper article at me. “What is this? Did you know about this?”
“Know about what?” The words taste like a lie. IknowI’m screwed.
“This!” Her voice trembles. She thrusts the article into my hands.
My hands shake as I take it, skimming the page, terrified to look up.
“It was my dad.” she says, the words barely audible, like it hurts to say them. She swallows hard. “Mydadsavedyou. Did you know?” Her voice wavers and she wipes at her eyes, waiting for an answer. Jenna’s gaze is wide and uncertain, silentlybegging me for reassurance. Her lips tremble as she searches my face for something—anything—to hold onto. I know she wants me to say I had no idea, and I can’t do that.
I can’t lie. I look up from the article, sadness enveloping me. I wasn’t prepared for this to be over. If she was going to forgive me for the Erin incident this morning, she surely won’t now. I press my lips together and stare longingly into her eyes.
