Page 177 of Gym Bros
She looks me dead in the eyes. “Was it? Because he thinks it might have been.”
I have no way of knowing if she’s lying—bluffing to get a reaction out of me—so I don’t give her one. But the wayI feelis a different matter entirely. “He’s got a lot of fucking nerve if that’s what he said to you.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been with a lot of straight guys—obviously. And if there’s one thing I know they like it’s novelty.”
“Are you trying to make me hate you, too?” I ask.
“I’m really asking,” she says, all pretense and bullshit aside. “He’ll get over you. Obviously. Eventually. And he might go back to having meaningless flings with married dads. Or he might even manage to get one of them so wrapped around his finger they can’t help but want to marry him and keep him super comfortable for the rest of his life. But what he might not do—ever again—is give someone his heart.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No? Why can’t I? You think I haven’t had enough experiences with men to learn exactly what they think I’m worth?”
“Which men?” I ask, finding the statement ridiculous if not a gross exaggeration.
“Allof them. You’re all the fucking same. You see a shiny new thing, and you can’t wait to have it, and then once you get it and use it a few times, it loses some of its sparkle—especially once you see what it’s actually made of.”
“Rachel,” I say. “That’s notme.”
“How the fuck would you know, Samuel? You turned twenty-one like five minutes ago. You haven’t even had time to see what’s out there yet.”
“Oh, but apparently Ihavehad time to get bored.”
“No, you just got burned, and you blamed the pan.”
“I’m not blaming the goddamn pan,” I say, a lot louder than I mean to. “I’m blaming thepain. I’m sorry for how you’ve been treated, genuinely, but I loved him. I was committed to him.All in. And I didn’t fucking tap out. If anything, the fight got stopped before it was done if you wanna stick with that stupid metaphor. If he told you he did anything but walk away once I knew what was up, then he’s fucking lying.”
“What was he supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” I tell her. Yell at her. “There’s nothing hecando. There’s nothing I can do either. It’s impossible. It’s unfixable. It’s fucked. I’m pissed. I’m fucking confused, and I miss my goddamn boyfriend. You think I wanna be talking about whether to break this to my mom or not withyou? I wanthim. No offense, but he’s really the only person I’ve truly given a shit about outside my family—ever.”
“Then why can’t you talk about this with him?” she asks, not giving up.
I’ve gotta hand it to her. I’d have been long gone by now if I were in her position. I’m not making this easy, but that’s because it isn’t.
“Because he’spartof it,” I say, though she shouldn’t need the reminder.
“Does your mom really need to knowthat, though?”
“What?”
“Like if you were to tell her what your dad’s been doing—because believe me—if she doesn’t know, she deserves to—then what would be the point letting her know Calyx was one of the people he screwed around with?”
“BecauseCalyxwould know.”
“Calyxcan make his own decisions. But only if he’s given a choice.”
I exhale shakily. “So fix the lie with more lies?”
“It’s an option. Is it ideal? No. But if you actually do want to be with him, then it’s away.”
I sit back on the couch, and Beauty climbs up to put her head on my lap. I think about what Rachel’s saying. Specifically, the part about how my mom deserves to know. And I think she’s probably right about the fact that the identities of the people my father’s cheated on her with matter less than the infidelity itself—or the multiple violations of his vows to her.
But would I be able to look her in the eye knowing I knew something she didn’t? I can’t even return her calls.
Rachel takes advantage of my silence. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever given you this particular talk, Samuel, so if I sound patronizing or whatever, just deal with it. But there comes a time in all of our lives where we have to stop worrying about impressing our parents. We have to live our lives for us. Not them. We have to find what makesushappy, not what we think would make them happy for us. We have to grow up. We have to raise ourselves the rest of the way.”
I glance at her and her tough love face. I like strong women, and I credit my own mother with raising me to appreciate constructive criticism, no matter the source. What I don’t like is whatever happened to Rachel to make her lose trust in “all” men. I have no interest in being one of the guys who reinforces her point.
