Page 34 of Truth
Pacing the room, I check for anything I’ve overlooked. Nothing stands out, so I walk to my purse to grab my cell and type out a text to Gretchen.
Me: I’m dying a very slow death over here. Can a person actually sweat to death?
Gretchen: Yes. You need botox.
Me: No, I need a drink.
Gretchen: Why are you sweating?
Me: Nerves. I don’t want to see him but having the face to face is the only option.
Gretchen: Truth. You just have to rip the band-aid. He’s the asshole, he should do all the sweating.
Me: I just want this part to go smooth.
Gretchen: Then don’t tell him you’ve moved on to greener dick pastures.
Me: You have problems.
Gretchen: You want me to come over? I can be your hype man.
Me: No, but love you…shit that’s the door.
Shoving my cell back in my purse, I sit down and take a calming breath. The keys jingle in the lock as Nick opens it, pulling in his black carry-on. Stopping in the doorway, his head bobs back slightly, confusion marred on his face.
“Hey,” I say, seated on the couch.
“Why are you here?” His irritation is apparent. How can he go from love letter to hatred three days later?
“I know I’m bombarding you right as you get home, but we should talk. I figured it was better to hash this out in person. You don’t agree?” He takes a deep breath and continues into the house, heading straight to the bedroom.
“I’m going to change” is all he says as an acknowledgment to my words before leaving me alone. This is not starting out well.
Ten minutes later he comes out to join me in the living room, changed into basketball shorts and a T-shirt. Sitting in the chair across from me, he looks down at his hands. The silence is deafening. I had a whole big plan, but I didn’t plan on Nick being sad about this, if that’s what he is. I’m hoping we can end this and walk away without hard feelings. As I waited, my attitude shifted away from just friends to solid enemies, but his change in demeanor is definitely dampening my “fuck off” monologue.
After another few moments, I decide to speak to break the ice. “Look, Nick, I think we both felt this coming, but I never wanted to hurt you. We’ve both made mistakes—”
Cutting me off, he holds a hand up to stop me. “Did you even read my letter?”
Shit. I should have at least read it. I feel like a jerk, but I’m not going to lie. “No. I truly didn’t want to risk it being something vile. I just want to walk away amicably. We’ve said a lot of things I hope we can bury. I just hope you can understand.”
“You think I would make this hard on you?” His laugh throws me off guard. “Drew, if you want to leave, then get the fuck out already. I’m not sad, but I see someone thinks very highly of herself. That was one of the many reasons I’m done with you. If you read the letter, this wouldn’t be a surprise.” Turning his head, he relaxed back into his chair.
“Wow, okay…you’re done? You? Whatever. I’m sorry for giving you more credit than you’re due.” I stand, still hoping for a more reasonable answer.
Shrugging, he grabs the remote and turns the television on, effectively cutting off our conversation. I feel the fury, but it’s controlled by another feeling—a feeling of recognition. I see him for who he is. I’m onto what he’s doing, and for the first time in the year since we met, it won’t work. I won’t dive into insecurities and beg for him. He’s an asshole and not my problem anymore. The thought makes me smile until he speaks.
“If you are going to just stand there, then why don’t you make yourself useful? You always did give good head.”
Now I can be furious. I lunge forward and stick my finger right in his chest.
“Fuck you. You are such a pathetic piece of shit. Never speak to me. Never utter my goddamn name. I’m too good for your filthy low-class mouth.” My voice is sharp and purposeful, accentuating my fury and throwing my words like daggers. I slap the remote from his hand and it ricochets off the floor, making a crack and causing Nick to jump, fear in his eyes. “You were lucky I gave you a year of my time, you prick. Stay the hell away from me for the rest of your wasted life.”
Turning on my heels, I walk straight out the door, but I don’t slam it shut. I leave it open so he can do it himself.
One Month Later
THIS DAY HAS BEEN HELL. Seems everyone decided to save up their stupidity and unleash it all at once. I’ve been putting out fires left and right, causing my mood to plummet. If I could fire everyone and just start again, I would. Even though I know it’s mostly my permanent shit mood that’s stinking up this office. I can’t remember a time in the last few months when I’ve been in a good mood.
