Page 71 of Rumi: The Hawthornes

“Then let’s take the sex out of it.”

“No. That’s stupid.”

“Is it?” she asked softly. “Would we even be here right now if we hadn’t started confusing things with sex?”

“I don’t want to stop,” I replied stubbornly. “Do you want to stop?”

“I want to not feel like shit because you’re out fucking other people,” she said simply. “That’s what I want.”

“I already told you I don’t want to fuck other people,” I replied desperately. “Yesterday was fuckin’ idiotic and I already said I was sorry.”

“But you don’t want to be in a relationship with me.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone!”

“So, I shouldn’t be with anyone either?” she asked, her voice so quiet I almost couldn’t hear her. The thought of her with someone else made me irrationally angry.

“Why the fuck are you punishing me? We didn’t agree not to see other people! I apologized for yesterday and I told you it won’t happen again.”

“I’m not punishing you,” she shot back, losing patience. “And I’m not trying to be dramatic. Just let it go.”

“So, you want to just stop,” I spat, cutting her off.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she yelled at me.

“So don’t! Forgive me for yesterday and let’s go back to how it was before.”

“I don’t want to go back to how it was before.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Rumi,” she growled, her hands in fists. “I’m trying to tell you that fucking my best friend occasionally isn’t enough for me.”

“So, this is an ultimatum.”

“No.” She stepped forward and shoved me. “I’m not begging you to be with me, you unmitigated asshole. I’m telling you that I want my best friend back.”

“Your best friend never left!”

“Jesus, I can’t even talk to you,” she said in disgust, spinning away. “Let’s go. We’re already late for the barbecue.”

“We’re not done here.”

“Bullshit. We are. You just refuse to listen.”

“You’re pissed at me—fine! So yell, hit me, whatever. Stop walking away and acting like you’re done.”

“I am done,” she screamed, turning to face me. “What part of that do you not understand? I’m not angry with you! I’m not fucking punishing you!”

“Sure sounds like you’re not angry,” I shot back.

“I’m not angry,” she repeated, still yelling. “I’m sad, okay? I’m fucking sad and I want you to leave me the fuck alone so I can benotsad.”

I didn’t want the confirmation of what I’d seen in her eyes. I didn’t want to know that I’d hurt her. I wanted her to be angry. Anger was better than whatever this was.

“You just keep saying shit so that I’ll, what, be mad at you?” she asked, practically reading my mind. “I’m not mad at you, Rumi, okay? I’m not going to be mad at you. There’s nothing to be mad about. We played with fire and I went in with my eyes wide open, but I still got burned.”

“I told you I wouldn’t fuck anyone else, okay?”

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