Page 47 of Show Me How to Heal
“Sorry.” I sighed, closed my eyes, and let my head fall against the gray cushions on my black couch.
“You’re freaking me out a little,” Moritz admitted. “What’s going on? Last time we talked you were head over heels about some guy…. Did he hurt you? Did you break up?”
It was kind of him to think I was the one getting hurt when in reality…
“No, but I’m going to hurt him. He’s going to hate me for lying to him, and I’m so, so fucking out of my depths with this whole relationship thing, even though we aren’t in a relationship yet. I bought him shoes, Moritz. Who thinksYeah, you’re opening a soap shop, you know what would be the perfect present to congratulate you on your achievement?Shoes!”
My brother, the jackass, started laughing. Loudly.
Why did I bother?
Oh, right.
He was my twin and usually gave sound advice.
“Sorry.” he gasped, still giggling. “I know it isn’t funny. Well, your predicament isn’t, but the shoe thing… is that why you asked me about mine? I thought you finally wanted to try barefoot shoes!”
Yeah, I might not have told him why I needed that information out of fear he’d laugh about my idea. Now I felt like an absolute fool because my idea had been a stupid one. In the end, the joke was on me.
“I might one day. But yeah, Zayne told me that his feet hurt after spending twelve hours in his shoes and that he sometimes wished he could just skip them, but apparently that doesn’t work, and you told me your feet hurt less ever since you changed to those weird shoes, so I thought it was worth a try. But that’s not what this is about! A ridiculous present is the least of my problems right now!”
“Okay, what is your biggest problem?”
“That I’m losing my mind. I bought a cabin!”
“Yeah?” Moritz said slowly, his tone dubious. “I know. Mama, Papa, and I tried to talk you out of it. Do you remember? We almost staged something like an intervention.”
I rolled my eyes, rubbing a hand over my face. “No. Notthiscabin. I bought another one.”
“What?Why? You do know you’re at least ten years too young to have a midlife-crisis, right? And you’re supposed to buy fancy sports cars.”
“That’s not really environmentally friendly, you know?” I teased Mr. Barefoot Shoes.
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that. You don’t earn that much as a teacher, Mr. Football star,” Moritz teased back.
“Hey, I bought you a house!”
“And one for our parents. I know. We’re grateful. Wait! I see a pattern! Did you buy your guy a fuckinghouse?”
“It’s acabin,” I said indignantly. “And I didn’t buy it for him. I bought it, well… I bought it in case he ever wants to go home with me. I can’t bring him here, can I? He thinks I was unemployed and probably broke.”
“And whose fault is that?” my brother countered.
“Mine.” I sighed. “That’s the problem. It’s all my fault. And I don’t know what to do!”
“First thing: Don’t pretend to live in some shabby cabin in the woods,” Moritz told me seriously. My heart skipped a beat. He was going to give me a lecture, and I’d had it coming. Honestly? It was part of the reason why I called him in the first place. I needed a reality-check and knew Moritz wouldn’t hold back. “Look, Luki. I know you’re afraid of the press finding out where you’re hiding. You made it clear you can’t deal with that. Hell, you fled the fucking continent to hide. I respect your wish for privacy, and I respect your decisions. I can’t imagine what kind of pressure it put on you by being constantly followed around by the media.But” — he cleared his throat — “You’re taking it too far, Luki. What you’re doing… the lying, the pretending, buying fucking houses left and right to keep your lies up, that’snothealthy. It’snotokay, and it’snotfair. If you really like your guy, you need to tell him the truth or have the guts to end it before he gets hurt.”
Zayne was already going to be hurt. I knew it.
He’d been open and kind, he’d given me a job, a purpose, a reason to go on, and I’d repaid him by lying.
My chest constricted as I thought about what I’d have to do. About letting him go. Quitting the job that’d helped me more than anything else to get my shit back together. About telling him the truth. The devastation on his face. The anger. Disappointment.
My eyes were burning, tears threatening to spill over.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered.
“Can do what, exactly?” Moritz asked patiently.
