After talking with my mother yesterday, I was too on edge to even think about facing Micah. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to talk to him without breaking down and crying, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. My telling him about these feelings is going to be concerning enough for him. I don’t need to add to his worry by falling apart in a blubbering mess. So, I kept my phone off and did my best to distract myself, but I failed miserably.
This situation is too big to shake.
I woke up this morning more anxious than what I was last night. I’ve been stalling, buying myself time by taking a slow shower and getting ready for the day. Despite my stomach being rankled in stress, I even managed to eat a slice of dry toast and drink a little orange juice.
My phone has been off since yesterday, and even though I want to hide from this situation, I know I have to face it. My mother is right; he deserves the respect of knowing my feelings of uncertainty. With a deep breath, I brace myself and turn my phone on. It takes a few seconds, but when the home screen appears, his worry fills the screen with notifications of missed calls, voice mails, and texts.
My stomach constricts when I close my eyes and call him.
After a few tormenting rings, he answers with a panicked, “Where have you been?” that comes out more as a scold than a concern.
“I’m sorry,” is my instant defense.
“Seriously. I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday. Why has your phone been off?”
What little bravery I had going into the call diminishes into cowardice. I try to think of an excuse as to why I’ve been dodging him, but he has me frazzled, and I stall for too long.
“Ady?”
“Yeah.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” My voice pitches and is unconvincing at best.
“What’s going on?” His urgency is gone, replaced with a more gentler approach.
I walk across my room and sit on the edge of my bed, already feeling defeated. “I don’t know.”
“Can you talk to me? Because something is clearly bothering you.”
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, wondering if he’s feeling any hesitation himself, because this would be so much easier if he were. I wouldn’t have to feel so alone then.
“About what? Moving? Getting married?”
“All of it?”
“You’re starting to worry me.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes,” he says much too easily. “There’s no doubt that this is what I want. That you’re what I want. Isn’t this what you want?”
“I . . .” The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too scared to say them.
“Ady, now isn’t the time to hold back. Tell me what’s going on here. This is still what you want, right?”
“I . . . I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of absolutely everything,” I tell him, and that’s the honest truth.
“I get it,” he says. “I know this is a lot coming at you—it is for me, too. Graduating, moving, getting married. It’s a lot to adjust to, and yeah, it is scary. But this is what you want, right?”
“It’s just all moving so fast,” I tell him, purposely avoiding his question.
“Some things I’m not able to slow down. This move being one of them. Once I get back, we have to be out of the condo in three weeks.”
“I know.”
“Baby, I don’t want you to be stressing out. There’s a lot that’s been happening,” he says, being insanely understanding. “I know how close you are to your mom and how upsetting it is to be moving even farther away. I want you to enjoy this time with her and not get yourself all worked up over everything else. So, if you need a break from all the house hunting stuff, just say the word, and I’ll take care of everything I can on my end.”
“I feel like I need to hit a pause button.”
“Can I ask you something?” he says, and when I agree, it’s the first time I hear weariness in his voice when he asks, “Does this have anything to do with Kason?”
“No.” My answer comes fast and a little defensive, so I take a deep breath, and with a calmer tone, tell him, “It’s me feeling like my whole world is changing and I’m fighting to find something to grab on to to help slow things down.” I feel instant regret for lying to him, but if I would’ve told him the truth, it only would have made him worry, and until I can sort through my feelings, there may be no reason for him to worry.
“Grab on to me. Because I’m here, doing life right along with you. You aren’t alone, okay?”
“Maybe I’m just ready for you to get back. I’m not used to being away from you.”
“I’m not used to being without you, either. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” And it’s the truth. We’re never apart from each other, so to be without him has been tough. Even though I’m conflicted, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him or that any of my love has diminished in his absence.
“Look, if you feel like you need to hit pause for a while, then I’m fine with that. Unfortunately, I can’t do that right now. But if that’s what you need, then do it. Focus on yourself and try not to worry so much about everything else. It will all fall into place the way it’s supposed to.”
His compassion comes as no surprise to me and neither does his lack of concern. I left out huge details of my perplexity and the reasons as to why I feel the way I do. Still, I thought he would be more uneasy. His confidence in us should settle me, but it only unnerves me even more.
“Are you sure?”
“I love you. Of course I’m sure. All I ask is that you don’t run from me if you feel overwhelmed, okay? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
We talk for a few more minutes, and I feel no better than before after we say our goodbyes. The whole conversation felt fake.
I love Micah. God, I do, but I’m starting to question if that love is interloped with obligation. As if I owe him for everything he’s done for me. As if I couldn’t possibly hurt him because he’s never hurt me.
I’m tangled in this messy web, and when I think about what I want—right now, in this moment—I go back and forth, weighing my options and silently demanding my head and heart come to an agreement. They don’t listen, and I heave a sigh of frustration.
I could sit here all day in this quandary, driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to fit together all these jagged pieces of my life. Or, I can do exactly what my mother and Micah are telling me to do: take this time for me. Although I know the true meaning behind their words, I want to manipulate them in order to spend more time with Kason. Of course, I rationalize this by telling myself that if I don’t give myself this time with him, I won’t ever know if what I’m feeling is just the dying embers of our lost love or something more—something bigger. So, instead of feeling sorry for a situation I don’t have a true understanding of, I reach for my phone and text Kason.
Me: What are you doing?
I lie back on the bed with a knotted conscience and wait for him to text me back. I stare at the ceiling while chaos assaults me in a silentious war beneath my ribs, which only have room to house one man. And yet, there are two, causing my chest to strain in an unbearable ache.
My phone chimes next to me, and I pick it up to read Kason’s response.
Kason: Out here at Indian Rocks, killing time in the water. Taking a breather and saw your text. What are you up to?
I want to tell him how I feel right now because he’s the only one I can be honest with, but I’m also nervous to open myself up that much, knowing where his head is at with me. I’m scared to go too deep with him and share too much, so I send a benign text in return.
Me: Not much. Would you mind if I stopped by to hang out for a while? I need to get out of this house.
Kason: You don’t even have to ask. But what about a car?
Me: I’ll just Uber it over to my mom’s office and get her SUV. No worries.
Kason: Can’t wait to see you. Park around 21st.
Me: Give me an hour.
I quickly text my mom, who agrees to let me take her car, so I call an Uber to come pick me up. While I wait, I toss on a bikini and throw my clothes back on over it. When my ride gets here, I lock up the house. The drive to the office is quick, and when I walk in, the receptionist has the keys for me at the front desk.
“She’s on a phone call,” the girl tells me when I ask to speak to my mother. “But she said that she’s going to have one of the interns pick up a rental car, so you won’t need to come back to get her.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks. Can you have her call me when she gets a chance?”
“No problem.”
I walk out with the keys and start toward the beach with a weird sense of freedom thrumming through me. It’s the anticipation that comes every time I know I’m about to see Kason. I tell myself not to feed into the emotion too much, but it’s outside my control as I cross the Gandy Bridge. It’s like I’m seventeen years old again. I used to drive this bridge all the time to come to the beach and watch Kason skim. When I think about it, I used to watch Micah, too. The both of them, along with Trent, would spend as many hours as they could out here. But Micah never caught my eye the way Kason did. When Kason was near, he was all I could see.
I shake the memory out of focus and tell myself not to go back. That none of that matters anymore. I need to stop thinking about the past and stop comparing the two of them against each other. All I need to focus on is the here and now, and right now, I’ve lucked out with parking, and I’m hopping out of the SUV. When I hit the sand, I look down to my left and spot a couple guys, who must be who Kason is with since there’s no one else out here.
I walk over, and when I get closer, I see Kason running parallel to the water before dropping his board and jumping on. He does a couple small tricks, nothing as impressive as what Micah can do on the board. But then again, Micah has made it his career whereas Kason seems to enjoy it as a hobby.
“Hey,” he calls out when he finally notices me coming his way.
“I can’t believe how dead it is.”
“The storm clouds started rolling in and the place emptied pretty fast,” he says, and I try to keep my attention on his face and not his bare chest, which is rippled in a lot more muscle than what it used to be. I used to know every inch of him, and now there’s so much that’s changed.
“Long time, stranger.” I look to see a guy coming out of the water, but I don’t recognize him until he’s standing in front of me with a friendly, “I haven’t seen you since freshman year.”
Something inside me paralyzes for a split second until I’m able to fake a smile. “Rhett, hi.”
“I didn’t think you were still around.”
I tense because even though he’s standing in front of me here at the beach, I feel like I’m sitting next to him on that couch . . . in that frat house . . . with Liam on the other side of me. My eyes lock to him as flashes of that night four years ago fire off in my mind. I haven’t felt the shocks of a trigger in a while, and this one has me teetering on fear. I’m too close to that night.
“You okay?” he asks, and in the very next second, I remember him asking the same thing.
“Are you feeling okay?”
I recall telling him something about not drinking enough water.
“I’m going to head out. You want to walk with me back to the dorms?”
His voice is clear as day in my head, but Kason pulls me away when his filters in as he says my name.
“Adaline?”
The both of them stare at me with curious looks, and I stammer as I try to speak around the low burning terror in my gut. “Oh, sorry. I, uh . . . my mind just got away from me for a second.”
Rhett doesn’t seem to care, but Kason holds suspicion in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I assure, but it comes off too fake.
“Anyway, it was good seeing you, Ady,” Rhett says.
“You heading out?”
“Yeah, man. If Ady doesn’t mind taking you back, I’m gonna bail.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell them, and when Rhett starts gathering his things, I can’t drag my eyes away from him. I’m stuck frozen on that couch.
“I’m going to head out. You want to walk with me back to the dorms?”
His words echo through me over and over again, words I should’ve grabbed on to, words that were there to save me. How could I have been so stupid as to dismiss them when they were right there—he was right there!
Instead, I stayed, and because of that one single choice, I lost everything—including myself.