Page 38 of The Biggest Sacrifice

He scrubs his face with one hand, then looks toward the kitchen. “Can I grab some water?”

I watch him look distressed. “You look like you need a beer instead.”

His body softens slightly, and he laughs. “Actually, yeah, I could use a beer. Thank you.”

Moving to the fridge quickly, I grab a bottle for him and snag my glass from the counter. “I was just sitting to have a glass of wine, so come on.” He follows me into the living room and we both sit on the couch. I feel the blush exploding over my body just by being near him. It was never a choice of whether we fit together physically. We more than did that. But waiting for the emotional response is what hurts us now.

“Tomm-”

“Farra-”

We both laugh. “Why is this so awkward?” I ask.

He takes a long pull of his beer, leans back on the couch, widening his legs, and lets out a sigh. I try not to make it obvious I’ve been actively noticing his body since he walked through the door. But my God, his body. And the sigh that almost sounds like a moan just enhances everything I’m feeling right now. Memories of our cries entwining like a classic mixtape, flood my mind. I pull my knees in close and turn to face him, but leave a cushion between us.

Buffer zone, Farrah. Use it.

“Because I’m an asshole. That’s why it’s awkward.” I shake my head, but he continues. “Farrah, I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much I need to say, to explain, to apologize for. I just don’t even know how to begin.”

My lips roll in and I hold a breath. I almost respond with a dismissal, because I can see how uncomfortable he is, but I’m owed this. I need to hear what he has to say. So I stay quiet and let him find his words.

“I’m sorry about what happened last week at my house. For what I said. What I did.” Those last three words are spoken an octave lower, like he’s ashamed of how he acted.

Thoughts of his hands on me, coupled with those hurtful words, confused me at that moment. But when I left and replayed it in my head, I realized this was who Tommy was. He can’t ever voice his emotions, so he uses sex to show it to me. And when anger washes over him, his primal need rises to the top and all he can do is take me. I’ve learned to tell the difference between both the emotional part for him and the anger that surfaces. And I adjust how I respond according to what he needs me to be for him at that moment.

“Tommy, you’ve got to give me more than just the physical. We can’t keep doing this. I have no idea what’s going on inside your head and sometimes it scares me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s bothering you.”

He closes his eyes, his hand tightening around his beer bottle. “It’s only been you, Farrah.” But his eyes are still closed.

“Tommy. Open your eyes and say it to my face.”

He opens them, and we connect, but there’s a veil. That same veil that appears when he’s retreating. I stand abruptly because I’m sick of going round and round with him.

“Why can’t you even look at me and say something nice? Jesus! Is the thought of being with me or speaking it aloud so terrible?”

“Farrah, no! I just need a minute. Please. Just wait a minute.”

I grow angry, even though his uneasiness tears at my heart, and I stand abruptly. We’re in our thirties. What the fuck are we waiting for? “Wait? Wait! You have no idea what that word means.” I move around to the other side of the table, putting at least a piece of furniture between us. He sits up and puts his bottle on the table. I fold my arms, adding another layer of protection. “Let’s talk about waiting, shall we?” He raises a brow and his lips draw into a straight line. “While you were away, and I waswaitingfor any sign of life from you, I saw a post on social media that said ‘the woman who waits, also serves’. It stopped me dead in my tracks. You’re not the only one who sacrificed something around here.”

“Farrah-” He stands, but I put my hand up, begging him to stay back.

“No. Tommy. You need to hear what goes on when you’re away. You need to hear how hard it is. For me. How scary it is while Iwait.I waited in your hoodie, this freaking hoodie,” I pull at the sweatshirt I have on, “that is really too warm to wear, but I did it anyway because I needed it for comfort. I waited in your T-shirt at night, the one I refused to wash because wearing it and smelling you made me feel like you were lying next to me. I waited, replaying our last night together over and over. I remembered your lips on mine, your fingertips drawing on me in the moonlight.”.

He steps closer to me, but I step back. “And I’m still here waiting, even though you’re right in front of me. I’m still waiting for my best friend to realize what we have is more than just friendship! We’re not ‘just friends who like to fuck,’ as you so eloquently put it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean? Tommy, what did you mean? Say the words!”

His body turns to stone, and he’s frozen in his spot. I don’t move from mine either. He opens his mouth, his lips trying to form words, and I silently beg for anything. And then one single tear leaks from his left eye. I watch it roll down his cheek and my heart just absolutely breaks for this man.

“I’m afraid,” he whispers it so softly, I almost don’t catch it. But I still can’t move. I should go to him. I want to put my arms around him, but like a frightened deer, I'm scared that if I make any move, this moment will end.

“I can’t lose you.”

“I’m right here.”

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

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