Very Wicked Things

He lasered in on my pendant. “You still love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Your kiss said otherwise,” he said huskily, his eyes examining mine.

“I’m good like that. I fuck well too. It makes all the guys think I love them, even the one I give my virginity to.”

He flinched at my words, and I wanted to yank them back. He sighed heavily. “That day on the quad last year…it hurt me to say those awful things to you.”

“Then why do it? Why wall yourself off from me for an entire year?” Unless…

I bit my lip. “Do you blame me for your mother’s death? Is that why we broke up?”

“No.” He swallowed, his throat seeming to bob painfully. “That’s not why we ended. Maybe I’ve led you to think that, by not answering your questions, but I don’t blame you.”

I was so confused.

He continued. “All that fault lies with me. For Cara too. Don’t you see? Time after time, I put my needs in front of others. That night in the car with you, I chose to ignore her calls. She wanted me home, and I didn’t go. And I knew she wasn’t right. I knew she was teetering.” He beat his fists against his leg. “I don’t deserve you.”

Oh.

My voice came out thin and high. “You destroyed us because you don’t think you deserve love?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

My heart fluttered, and I sagged down in a seat working through the truth, seeing that entire day through different eyes.

This beautiful man had loved me.

“All these months of ignoring me…” I petered off.

He nodded. “On purpose but not why you think. I didn’t use you or lie to you. It’s just…we can’t be together, Dovey.”

My heart seized. “You gave me up? What we had?”

He looked away, his lips set. And that was a yes.

Because that’s the penance he wanted.

I wanted to be comforted by this new knowledge, but I wasn’t, imagining him forever lost in his void of nothingness with other girls, punishing himself. All those years in the future when we’d think of each other and know the other held someone else in their arms.

For him, it would be some floozy he didn’t give a shit about. Emma.

With limbs that felt too heavy to lift, I stood. “I’ve been where you are when I was a kid. Living is the most important thing you can do for those around you. You have to stop wallowing in your self-pity—”

“Stop,” he said. “Don’t hit me with your psychology. It won’t work. I’m done with real relationships. I only disappoint. And hurt.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“You drove me home to Ratcliffe when my car didn’t start. You even had my car fixed. You took me to your house when my tires were slashed. You’re still taking care of me. And I see you. I do. You are a good person, and you can’t base your whole life on one mistake, one decision. I know deep inside you, you still want to have hope.” I paused. “Because living without love is a terrible thing.”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes on me. “I know.”

I continued. “Sarah told me once I could be anybody I wanted, even though I was nothing. And she was right. After bad things happen, it’s up to us how we go on. The sun may be gone, but the stars are still there, waiting, always giving you light.”

I took one of his hands and pressed it against my pendant.

“You’d said you wanted my forgiveness, that you needed it, so I’m giving it to you. I forgive you for lying to me, for hurting me, for pushing me away, for everything. But, Cuba, your life can only begin when you forgive yourself.”

He made a strangled sound, or maybe I did. He pulled me tight against his chest, and I closed my eyes and felt wetness falling, falling, and I don’t know if it was his tears or mine. I pressed a final kiss to his shoulder, my hands touching the blood-dipped thorns on his arm. Didn’t I know what they meant now? Blood for the ones he’d lost, for Cara, his mother and me.

I stepped back, and when he didn’t cling to me, it felt like he wanted me to go.

So, I walked out of his life, beginning another one.

“Love and pain. You can’t have one without the other.”

–Dovey

THE YELLOW CAB came to a stop underneath the covered portico of The Dorchester in downtown Dallas. Built in the twenties, the five-star hotel practically oozed old world charm and opulence. I rarely came to this part of town, so I took it in, from the ornate style of the exterior to the red-coated bellhops who ushered in the privileged.

From the backseat, my eyes fixated on the very top of the twenty-five stories, staring at each of the high windows, wondering if perhaps the penthouse was my destination tonight. I didn’t know the details of where the thing would take place, only that I was to meet The Man in the main bar. Of course, I’d googled the hotel before I came, researching the exits and the number of floors and restaurants. Like it mattered. I was committed to doing this deed.

I’d made my decision and there was no changing it.

The cabbie turned down Bruno Mars on the radio. “It’s fifty-one dollars,” he said, turning to face me, tapping his fingers on the cracked vinyl of the seat, eyeing me. I knew exactly what he saw. A girl in a party dress and stilettos that he’d picked up in Ratcliffe. A girl who didn’t belong here.

I dug around my purse and pulled out the roll of quarters I’d taken from the shoe box under my bed. I held it out to him. “Sorry about the change.” Things were tight at the moment.