Page 59 of This Life and All the Rest
“When was the last time you were tested?” She puts her hands on her hips as she interrogates me, staring me down with angry, tear-filled eyes. “When, Macon?”
“When was the last timeyouwere tested?” I spit back out of spite.
“Every three fucking months for the last four years,” she says, and it’s like a punch to the gut.
She’s been pretty busy in Paris, I guess.
“Well,” I whisper, “I’m so glad you’re being responsible.”
“Unless you’re involved.” Lennon’s voice is muffled because her hands are covering her face. “Why am I so fucking stupid? How could I let this happen?”
“Lennon...” I say, opening my mouth, then shutting it.
What can I say? Tell her to trust me? Tell her I won’t hurt her? Tell her it’s different? She won’t hear any of that right now.
“I can’t do this with you,” she says again. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again, but I’ve only been here a week and I’ve already fucked up.”
“Okay, I get it.” My heart and pride are cracking into pieces. “We’ll act like it didn’t happen. You regret it. Fine.”
“I regretyou,” Lennon whispers, and fuck if it’s not a kick to the chest. “I can’t feel like this again. I never should have come back here.”
“Right,” I snap, my voice shaking with my own emotions. “Leave, then. Runaway again. Go back toCapriand your French boyfriend.”
“Quit acting like you’re innocent. Quit acting like this isn’t your fault, too, Macon,” she says, her voice rising in volume.
“You’re selfish. You take and take and take, and you don’t care what it does to anyone. You don’t care about the aftermath or how much you hurt people. I don’t have space for your bullshit in my life.”
She’s like an erupting volcano.
A bottle of champagne that’s been shaken before being opened.
She explodes, and I sway on my feet from the force of her words, from the hatred and the hurt behind them.
She used to be the only person who saw any good in me, but I guess she meant it when she said that person is dead.
I don’t know if anything has ever hurt this badly.
Lennon glares at the floor as tears fall down her cheeks, her arms wrapped protectively around her torso. What’s she protecting herself from?
Me.
There’s so much I could tell her.
There are so many ways I could attempt to defend myself right now, but I can’t. I don’t. It’s not the right time. It might never be. She wouldn’t listen anyway, so I keep things brief.
“You need to demonize me to fit your narrative, fine,” I say, my voice low and shaky.
I advance on her.
“You want to make me the villain in your story, so you feel better? To justify running off to Paris and sayingfuck youto your family? Okay. But don’teversay I didn’t care about you. You’re theonlything I have ever cared about.”
I reach out to touch her but drop my hand before I can make contact.
“Every single decision I’ve made over the last four years has been for you.”
A sob escapes from her lips, and she screws her eyes up tight, but the tears keep falling.
“God, Macon, I wish you would have given me a say in some of them, then.”
