Page 70 of As the Years Pass
What was I thinking? Why did I think this could work? Why has it taken for me to get what I want to realize it was a mistake?
Live and learn? I should have learned the first time. I should have learned when Adamchoseto leave.
Actions speak louder than words, and his actions spoke volumes.
Adam’s lips part, his eyes searching mine. Confusion mars his face, reflecting exactly how I feel. He says nothing.
I force a smile, though not a single part of me is happy. In fact, I’m on the verge of tears. I take a step back.
“I’d really like to go to sleep.”
His mouth closes, lips forming a thin line, and he nods once, then walks away.
I crawl into bed, tucking myself under the blankets. My chest aches, and I focus on my breathing. It’s erratic, and I may pass out if I don’t get myself to calm down. I listen to him shuffle through the drawer to get clothes. I hear the bathroom door close.
The water from the sink goes on.
He’s brushing his teeth.
The toilet flushes.
The sink again.
The door opens.
Footsteps.
The blankets are pulled back. The bed dips.
The light clicks off.
“Good night, Emmet,” he whispers.
I want to say it back, but I bite my tongue and force myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adam
Can’t I sleep in just once in my life? I’m on vacation, with no kids and a potential hangover. Yet, here I am, up before the sun.
Emmet takes a deep breath, reminding me he’s there. Reminding me of last night and what happened. What I did.Again.
Why are these feelings toward him so overwhelming when I’m drinking, but not any other time?
Is it because my fear of rejection is gone? Is it because I have no worries? Is it because I refuse to allow myself to think of us like that when alcohol isn’t involved?
But why? Why can’t we be together? What is so bad about that?
It’s a common thing now, men being together. Men get married all the time, and they even have kids. It isn’t the way it used to be. And maybe if that was the only thing stopping me, it would be easier. But it wasn’t just the fear of what people would think or say that ate at me then. It was me and my fear of losing another person I loved.
Because I remember—then and now— how it felt to lose someone I loved.
So, I left him before he could leave me—before he could breakmyheart.
And for what? I’m still alone.
I have my children, and I love them more than anything, but is that all my life is ever going to be? For the rest of my life, am I just going to be a dad? Alone and depressed on the days they’re with their mom? It’ll have to be enough if I can’t figure out my shit.
