Tansy
It’s somewhere around three in the morning when I wake up. Cai is at the sink outside the toilet, brushing her teeth using the light from her phone. I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees. “I didn’t hear your alarm go off.”
She stops brushing, and I think tries to look at me in the mirror above the sink, then she turns around with her toothbrush still in her mouth. “I didn’t sleep, so I turned it off a couple minutes before it would have gone off.”
“Oh.”
We talked until midnight. Mostly I talked. Cai offered me comfort and held me. Somewhere around nine she’d ordered pizza from the place down the street, and the remains of our dinner are scattered around the floor. My mouth tastes like late-night bad decisions.
I’m wrecked. My shoulders and my chest hurt in an actual sore-muscle kind of way. I rub my upper arms. The room feels cold.
Cai flips on the light in the bathroom area, and it’s enough to let me see that she’s already packed. She’s been up and moving around for a little while now.
Getting ready to leave. That’s what she’s doing. I force myself to think it, to actually run my thoughts over the concept and let it catch at rough edges. “I kept you up too late.”
“No such thing.” She comes to me and stands next to the bed. She tucks my hair back over my shoulder. “I’d have stayed up all night with you.”
“You did stay up all night! And I washed out on you.”
“You can’t have it both ways.” She grins at me. “Did you keep me up too late or did you pass out too early?”
“Shuddup,” I mutter, pouting at my lap. “It’s early. I’m not supposed to be up at this hour.”
“I didn’t mean for you to be.”
“You were just going to, what? Write me a note?”
“No.” She looks so sad. It’s in her eyes and the flat hold of her mouth. “But I was going to kiss you goodbye right before I had to leave.”
I don’t like this. I don’t want us to separate like this. It seemed too complicated and not really worth it to book our flights together on the way back when we weren’t coming out at the same time. I’m not leaving until tomorrow, and my mom is going to drive me to the airport. It didn’t seem like a big deal, because of course we’d have plenty of time together in California.
Truthfully, I kind of wanted to travel on my own. There are a lot of things on my “by myself” list that need checking off. I liked it. Sliding through the clumps of families and darting around weary business travelers to grab the last open seat in the waiting area. I have a feeling I’m not going to feel so much like a sophisticated traveler on my way back. It’ll be all wiping my tears away with cheap napkins and eating my feelings with overpriced airport nachos.
I pick at the blanket. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Don’t apologize.” She holds my hand and laces our fingers together. “There is absolutely no place I’d have rather been.”
“Right. Because you adore having your girlfriend freak out in the middle of sex with a mental breakdown.”
“If that’s what you needed. If it was cathartic.”
“Don’t leave.” My fingers clench on hers, and I grab her thigh with my other hand. “Please. Don’t go. I’ll buy you a ticket back tomorrow, and we’ll drive down together.”
She shakes her head with more of that damned sadness. “I have to go.”
“You don’t. You can call Skylar and tell her you’ll be in tomorrow.”
“You need me to go.”
“No!” I sound panicky again, but that makes sense because I am panicking. She’s going to say goodbye and really mean it. “I love you. Stay, please. Move here with me.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You can have a spot in Nanna’s building.” I scramble to my knees, clutching her waist as if I could physically keep her here forever. “You’ll be the only tattoo artist in town. The tourists will die for it. You’ll get all the business for miles.”
“Hush, little one.” She holds my head, and my eyes feel so heavy. I lean into her touch. “Shhh. I’ll see you in California.”
That’s not a yes. I can hear her no echoing in the vast gulf between us. “Don’t leave me.”
My voice breaks when I start crying. My tears are hot enough that they scorch my cheeks. I think it’s because I cried so much last night. I wipe the drops away with the back of my wrist, and then I have to wipe snot away too. Oh god, how puffy and red must I be? Maybe that’s why she’s saying no.
“You have to do this,” Cai says. “This move is something you need, and you need to do it for just you. All by yourself.”
She’s right. I know she is. The truth only makes me cry harder. I sob and cover my face with my hands as if that’ll keep me from embarrassing myself. It’s too late. “I’m sorry. I should have never walked into your booth. I’ve only brought you headaches.”
“Don’t say that.” She drops to her knees beside the bed and suddenly her head is at my waist when she wraps her arms around my hips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You shine so bright, Tansy. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone stronger than you.”
“I’m not strong,” I insist. “I wouldn’t have . . . I’d have left so much earlier.”
“You did leave. That’s what matters. And you’re brave and hopeful enough to pull up stakes on your entire life.”
“To go back home.” Her hair is silk between my fingers. “That’s not bravery. That’s running away.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
She stands up slowly. The kiss she presses to my forehead stops my tears but breaks my heart.
“You’re not,” she says. “I’m leaving you.”