Eloise

My heart is in my throat. Why did he say that?

“I’m sorry, Eloise. I tried, I really did, but I can’t do this,” Gabe says as he stands.

“Gabe, please,” my dad says.

“It’s okay, it is. I promise,” I say, standing. “You just have to get to know them, is all.”

“Know them? They’re acting like they don’t know who I am.” Gabe’s voice is forceful, and I sink back into the chair, confused.

“You know them?” I ask.

Gabe turns to my mother, his eyes boring into her skull.

“I can’t believe you. I come to your house and you avoid me. I sit down and you pretend like I’m a stranger and that nothing ever happened,” he spits.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“You think this isn’t hard for me?” my mother says, her voice quiet.

“Would someone tell me what is going on?” I ask, louder.

“Eloise, I wanted this to work. I really do, but your family is too important to you. You said so yourself. You can’t have a relationship with someone without them being involved with your family and I tried, but there’s no way this is going to work. I can’t walk in here and pretend everything’s okay when your mother is the reason my own mother is dead.”

Gabe takes my hand, and I scramble to get away from my chair. Tears form in my eyes and my body feels like it is crushed under a thousand pounds of cement.

He leads me to the front door, and I force my feet to move to keep up. My knees threaten to buckle with each step, and my mind is racing so fast I can barely concentrate on where I’m going.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask through my tears.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad. I was hoping I could pretend the past never happened, but I can’t. You’re wonderful and amazing, and you’re lucky to have a family who love you. That’s the most important thing in the world. I know, I used to have the same thing. But as much as I want to, I can’t see a future for us. I can’t deal with your parents, and you need them in your life. There’s no way around it.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes, desperate to see him clearly.

“Let’s go,” I say. I want to go with him, to clear our heads and figure out something.

Gabe shakes his head. “No, it’s better if I just go. We had a good time, let’s leave it at that.”

My body heaves with sobs as he opens the door.

“Don’t go.”

He lets go of the door, and my heart flutters with hope. Gabe draws me into him, and I let my body melt against him.

In a low voice, he says, “I’ve loved you since I was a little kid. I will always love you, but this isn’t meant to be.”

“Nothing’s ever felt so right,” I say, my voice pleading.

“It doesn’t matter how right it felt, it’s impossible. I refuse to ask you to give up your family and I can’t be near them without remembering how I don’t have a family because of them.”

“But…” I start but Gabe lets go of me and rushes out the door.

My legs collapse and I slump against the floor.

“Honey,” my mother says, crouching beside me.

“Why did he say those things? Why didn’t you tell me that you knew him? Why does he think his mom died because of you?” I begin to wail.

“Because she did,” my mother says softly.

A great welling of rage balls up in my stomach, and I erupt. “And you never felt the need to tell me that?”

“I missed the cancer.” My mother carries on talking but I don’t hear anything she says.

All I can think about is Gabe. He left. He left me and doesn’t want to see me again.

Can that be real? Did that really happen?

I push myself to my feet and open the door to leave. I step over the threshold and realize my car isn’t here. My heart sinks again, and I turn and, in a trance, walk to my childhood bedroom.

Slamming the door behind me, I collapse on the bed and pull the pillow over my head.

My body physically aches for Gabe. I’m desperate for his embrace, but all I can do is cry until my tears are drained.

There’s a light tap at the door, and it opens.

“I brought you your phone,” Sophie says gently.

I can’t move or say anything, but a sigh leaves my body. Sophie sets the phone beside me on the bed. She strokes my arm, and fresh tears fall from my eyes.

“I want to go home.”

“You are home.”

“But I want my own home. I want to be at Gabe’s home.”

“Honey, this will always be your real home.”

“Why didn’t he tell me about Mom? Why didn’t Mom tell me about his mom?” I ask, the anger fueling me enough to sit up.

“I don’t know. It sucks. Possibly because of patient confidentiality? Or maybe she thought she would never have to tell you.”

“He’s right, you guys are so important to me. How can I have a relationship with anyone who isn’t a part of my family?”

“At least he tried for you, he did his best and that’s something. But if he’s decided he can’t be around Mom then there’s nothing much you can do.”

Sophie pulls me into her arms and rubs my back. I let her comfort me. She’s right, this is my home. I can’t live without my family. But I also feel like I can’t live without Gabe. I could never choose between them. I guess that’s why Gabe chose for me.

I spend the next three days in my childhood bed, with Sophie waiting on me hand and foot. I started out texting Gabe every hour but he never replied. Now I’m trying to accept the situation, and I’ve only texted him once today.

My parents have poked their heads in the door and asked how I’m doing but they’re otherwise staying away from me. I don’t know why, I suppose they feel guilty. I hope they feel bad for not telling me. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently. If I’d known, I would’ve brought him for coffee, not dinner. Everything would’ve been in the open, and maybe we all could’ve talked our way through this.

Right now I’m struggling to think of a reason to ever get out of bed again. I just want to hide in my family’s home. Forever.

I’m flicking through the pages on my Kindle, unable to concentrate on the words, when my mother comes in the room.

“How are you doing?” she asks, sitting on the bed beside me.

“Awful.”

“I guess that was a pretty big shock. You didn’t expect dinner to end the way it did.”

“You could say that. I can’t believe no one told me what was going on.”

“When you told me you were seeing him, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to come to terms with what happened to Rose Irwin.”

“Her name was Rose?” I ask, envisioning all the rose tattoos on Gabe’s chest.

“Yes. Why?”

“It explains all his rose tattoos.”

Her body tenses, and my mother looks like she’s going to say something. Instead a silence falls between us.

“I miss him,” I say and exhale sharply.

“I know you do, sweetie. He obviously meant a lot to you.”

“Means,” I correct her. “He means a lot to me, he always will. How am I supposed to go on? I know he loves me, he told me he loves me. But he said he’d never pull a child away from their parents, and that includes me.”