Page 106 of Is This for Real?
I am completely deflated. I’ve poured so much of me intoMidnight Masquerade.And yet it keeps getting rejected. And she didn’t even throw me a bone of constructive criticism. Still, I also know from Trilby’s notes that it could be better. Strawbundle Publishing still has not contacted me, but Esther says that’s a positive sign because it wasn’t an immediate no.
I hope this isn’t how Rory feels. I am a project. And maybe I’m not living up to the promise. Especially for Rory, with all his dreams of the magical. That was former Rory. Heartbroken Rory may have even less patience.
I probably shouldn’t have left last night—and then hung up on him. I’ll bike down to his apartment now, and we can have a talk and clear the air.
I leave my room. A note sits by a rose teacup on the table.
Penelope,
Thought some more about it. Callie wants him back.
Don’t feed into her plans by letting her cause a fight between you.
Big hug,
Zelda
Biking, concentrating on the path ahead, watching out for traffic, helps to clear my mind. I text him that I am coming over and then let myself into his apartment. The dirty glasses and plates have been cleared, but the front room still looks like it’s been through a party. The curtains billow, almost like wedding veils, as if the ghost of Miss Havisham haunts the room.
I walk to the bedroom, slowly opening the door. Rory is sleeping. I back out, closing the door softly, and retreat to the kitchen to turn on the electric tea kettle and add some water to the coffeepot for him. I take down the signs that dot the foyer.
Rory comes out. We stare at each other. A chasm widens between us.
“The coffee smells good.” Rory slumps into a chair. “I’m sorry about last night. I wanted it to be perfect for us, and it all just fell apart. And I’m sorry I yelled at you when you came in when I was talking to my dad. This isn’t me. I keep snapping at you, and I don’t do that. And I shouldn’t do that. I’m falling apart. I obviously can’t handle my parents breaking up, even though I’m nearly thirty.” He gives a sharp bark of laughter. He shakes his head. “Especially with both of them dumping all this stuff on me. All these slights and . . . anyway, I’m taking my pain out on you, and that’s not right. And I think maybe I need a break from this relationship while I get my own head sorted out.”
“You want to break up?” My skin shivers as if a cold draft suddenly hit it. I am cold and then hot. “Did your father recommend this?”
“I haven’t told my father about us. I’m not adding to his issues.”
“So, we’re an issue? I don’t see it. I can be there for you. We can face this together.” I hate that I’m begging. “Don’t do this, Rory. If you’re not willing to fight for this relationship—”
“What am I fighting for? You’ve never even said you love me. You told Jamie you loved him.”
“I thought I was in love with Jamie, but I was wrong. It doesn’t compare.”
“But you’ve never saidI love youto me, like you said to Jamie.”
I stare at him. I don’t want to say it in the middle of a fight. I don’t want to say it like this. We’re so far apart in this room. It feels like the words are echoing in the gulf. A truck rumbles out in the street. The smell of cigarette smoke comes through the windows. Burning. My throat is dry. My eyes tear. “I’m not going to say it like this. I’ve shown that I love you in more ways than I’ve ever shown Jamie. And that’s what counts—more than the romantic gestures or statements. As your mother is saying.”
He flinches. I’ve gone too far.
“I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me that Jamie came on to you,” he says.
“It wasn’t important.”
“Not important? You’ve been in love with him forever, and now he’s interested, and it’s not important?”
“Jamie’s not really in love with me. He said ‘I feel more for you than I thought.’ That’s hardly a declaration of passionate love.”
“Right.” His eyes bore into me. “Hardly a declaration of passionate love, is it?”
He’s using my words against me. I shrink back.
“I’m not in love with Jamie. I’ve realized I was clinging to the idea of Jamie and me because he was a connection to my parents. It’s not like I think you’re in love with Callie just because you spent half the party with her,” I say.
“I’m not in love with Callie,” he says. “You said it was okay that I spent time with Callie.”
“That was okay. But last night was not okay. Don’t you see that?”
