Page 17 of Becoming Us
My heart sank. “Atty…”
He lifted his hand, his voice soft, if a little small. “Give me a minute to get this out.”
I nodded, biting the side of my thumb.
“I think we need to talk about this if we’re really going to try,” he continued, “because I don’t want to keep wondering if you’re going to turn back intohim.”
Shit. That hurt like hell.
His eyes stayed locked on mine, but I managed to stop chewing my thumb.
“Okay.”
“You were really mean to me, Noah.”
The sting behind my eyes was immediate. I blinked it away.
“And I know you were struggling—and maybe it wasn’t really about me—but some of the things you said…they can’t be unsaid. At least not in my head. You said you’re working on it, and I need to know how. I need to know you’re not going to do it again.”
I swallowed thickly. “Okay. First things first—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
“I know you’re sorry, Noah. It’s not about?—”
“I know it’s not about that,” I cut in. He leaned back, waiting. “But I have to say it. I can’t stop saying it. You didn’t deserve any of it, Atty.”
He gave a tight nod. His hand still held the bottle, and I reached for it before I could second-guess myself. He didn’t pull away—just wove his fingers through mine. It gave me the courage to keep going.
“Second thing is…there’s no ‘him’.”
His grip tightened.
“Idid those things.Iwas an asshole.Ihurt you.Ileft.”
His eyes were starting to look red-rimmed, and it tore through me to see it.
“I’m a recovering addict,” I said, “and I think it’s important that both you and I stay aware of that fact.”
“I’m aware.”
“You want to know it’s not going to happen again? Me too. But the truth is, I don’t know if I can promise that. What Icansay is I’ve been working on it every single day for the past two years. Trying to figure out why I react the way I do, trying to catch the thought before it becomes an action. Does it always work? No. But practice helps. I wish I could promise I’ll never cause you that sort of pain again. And trust me, I have no intention of doing it—but I don’t know if I can say that for sure. Icanpromise that I’ll keep working on it for the rest of my life so Idon’tslip up.
“I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to be an asshole. And I definitely don’t want to aim that anger at anyone—especially not the one person who doesn’t deserve it.”
Atty’s eyes held mine. Unreadable. Then they dropped to his lap.
I waited.
“Do you think if I told you, in the moment, that you were doing it again—you’d listen? You’d stop before it turned into a fight?” he finally asked.
A flicker of hope lit up in my chest. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Maybe we could have a code word,” he said. “And if I said it, you’d have to stop and think before going any further. Would that help the rewiring?”
I nodded. “That could work, yeah.”
“Okay, so we’ll do that. I’ll say…” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Zucchini. And you’ll stop.”
My lips twitched. “Zucchini?”
