The Space Between Us(107)

I looked back at Charlie and her face was pointed towards the floor.

“How does it feel? You meant enough to her that she branded your name along her ribs, but not enough that she could admit you were alive. What a strange lie to tell the man you were sleeping with.”

I watched as she lifted her face to look at me, not denying anything, not telling me that he was lying. She looked guilty. Tears streamed down her face, her mascara created black streaks along her cheeks, and her eyes drowned in sadness. But she wasn’t denying it.

“You told him I was dead?”

“Asher, please, let me explain,” she begged. Still not a denial.

“Explain? I’m not sure that needs an explanation.” I sounded calm. Even to me, my voice came across as smooth and even. Inside, however, inside my body it felt like my organs were being compressed. There wasn’t enough room within me to contain the pain that was blossoming inside. Before I even realized what was happening, I was turning from her, heading towards the exit. I never wanted to imagine a scenario when I was turning away from her, but at that moment, I couldn’t be next to her anymore.

“Asher, wait.” I heard her heels clicking against the floor and knew she followed me. “Asher!” She followed me all the way onto the street and I kept marching, not really knowing where I was headed. “Please, listen to me.” Finally, the pain had made way for anger and I turned around to confront her.

“There is nothing, nothing, in this world that could compel me to tell one single person that you were dead. Is that how you thought of me? Of us? For the last thirteen years you wished I was dead?” My hand came up to my forehead, rubbing, trying to ease the headache that had built there, the throbbing causing my eyes to strain in discomfort.

“No, Asher, no.” She took a step closer to me and I countered with another step backwards. I could see the hurt in her eyes. “I told him my childhood friend had died because, at the time, I thought that was the easiest explanation.”

“So you never told him about us?”

She shook her head. I felt a cracking in my chest as if I was being torn open by her words.

“What would have been so difficult to explain about having an ex-boyfriend?”

“It’s not that simple,” she pleaded. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Make me understand!” I screamed. I turned away from her as she flinched. I was going to lose my temper and I didn’t want to be near her when it happened. My head was in my hands and I knelt down, bending my knees and resting my elbows upon them. “Tell me, please.”

“There was no way to explain to David that I could never love him, that I could never fully be with him, because I was still in love with the man whose name was permanently drawn on my skin.” She sniffled, and under all the pain and heartache, it tore at me that she was crying. A part of me still wanted to keep her from pain. “I couldn’t let you go, but I couldn’t move on either. The only way was to pretend, to make up a reality where my sadness, my inability to give him everything, made sense.”

“So I was dead. Did anyone in your new life know about me? Did you tell him about the babies?”

She shook her head, crying.

I started walking away. I couldn’t get away fast enough. I was angry, and hurt, and so very close to a nervous breakdown. I felt her hands grip my shoulders; her tiny, undernourished arms, trying to pull me back to her.

“Don’t,” was all I said as I continued to walk, while she tried desperately to hold on to me.

“You can’t leave like this, Asher. You can’t,” she wailed. I spun around on her and my hands came to grasp her face. I wasn’t violent, but I was forceful.

“You don’t get to keep me, Charlie. You can’t kill me one day and love me the next. It isn’t possible.”

“I never stopped loving you!” Her tears ran into and over my hand.

“You’re mistaken. I never stopped loving you. I never told anyone you were dead. I never lied about something so sacred and special to me in order to make myself feel better. I loved you, God damn it! I can’t fault you for not telling anyone about the miscarriage. That’s personal, private. But I can’t just move past this. I can’t pretend you didn’t wish me dead for thirteen years.” I still held her face in my hands, my eyes roaming over her features. She was so beautiful and for the last few weeks I had imagined that my life, my future, laid with her. I was angry. I was hurt. But more than any of that, more than those emotions that can come and go at the drop of a hat, I was shocked. I didn’t recognize her anymore. She wasn’t the same person I had been in love with all of my life. “I have to go.” I dropped my hands and took a step away from her. I turned my back on her and I walked away – from everything.

I heard her cry out, and then I heard what I thought was her falling to the ground. But I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. There was no way to guarantee myself that I wouldn’t go running back to her if I saw her in pain. I would want to fix her. I always had. This time, she would need to fix herself.





Chapter Eighteen


Asher


A few weeks passed. When I left New York, I left in a tuxedo. I went straight from my fight with Charlie to the airport. I made it home and did my best to try and move on with my life. It was like starting over without her all over again, only this time, I didn’t have this looming feeling of guilt keeping me from remembering the good memories. All I had was the dark pressure expanding within me, reminding me that for all those years, she wished me away. She regretted what we had so much, she didn’t even want me breathing.