Again, But Better(105)

“Literally.”

I bring my hands up near my face and shake them angrily. “Oh my god!”

“The message didn’t go through or something! I just awkwardly asked her if she got my voicemail, and she didn’t even know what I was talking about. She can’t call me here, and I took her off my Skype … she emailed me a bunch of times … but I was just deleting them, and she sent me some Facebook messages … I never opened them because I’m not good with confrontation, and I didn’t want to deal with it. She said she always planned to visit me, and when she wasn’t hearing anything, she decided to just fly out and surprise me. Shane, I had no idea!”

Words scrape up my throat, “Did you tell her what was in the voicemail?”

He sighs. “No, not yet.”

My head throbs. “Are you going to tell her now?”

“She just got here after traveling for the last ten hours,” he says solemnly. I feel that one in my gut. I actually hunch forward a tiny bit.

“I’m going to tell her! I’m just going to get her settled into a hotel or something, and then I’ll explain everything.” He stands up and puts his hands on my arms. “Shane, I’m with you.”

My skin pulses. I bring my fingers up and press them against the sides of my forehead before shrugging his hands away.

“What kind of person doesn’t wait for confirmation that their significant other actually acknowledged that they’ve broken up with them … if they’re serious about breaking up with them? You knew she would want to respond to that! You think you could just leave a message and never talk to her again? If you really wanted to break things off, you would have at least read her emails to see what she had to say! If you were having trouble dealing with this, why didn’t you tell me? We could have talked about it!” My voice wavers.

Pilot steps toward me again.

“Please don’t touch me right now.”

Pain flashes in his eyes. He sits back down in one of the table chairs and runs his hands up from the back of his neck to his forehead.

“Shane, I’m sorry. I screwed up. What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go across the hall and dump her here and now?”

I close my eyes, shaking my head. Tears stream down my face now. I back up until I’m sitting on Babe’s bed.

“No,” I mumble almost incoherently.

“You don’t?” he asks gently.

I wipe at the tears and stare at him. My chest aches. We watch each other in silence for four minutes. My heart pounds painfully against my ribcage. How did we get here so fast?

At minute five, I say, “Pilot, this isn’t working for me anymore.”

Pilot blinks and refocuses on me. “What’s … not working?”

I shake my head and gesture to the general room. “This.”

“This what?” he says slowly.

I heave in a few more steadying breaths and stand to pull my purse from the table.

“What are you doing?”

I open the little zipper compartment and pull out the silver object inside.

“Shane,” he says cautiously. “What are you doing? Please don’t do that. Help me understand what you’re thinking.”

His voice is full of patience. It breaks my heart. I grip the locket hard in my palm and let the bag fall across my chest.

His voice wavers. “Everything’s been really great with us. This past week has been amazing.”

“Pilot, I’m losing myself here.”

“What, what do you mean?”

I mash my lips together. “I’m losing myself and I’m becoming us.”

He shakes his head, bewildered.

I fall back onto the edge of Babe’s bed. “Whatever this is—” I have to heave the words from my lungs. They come out saturated and heavy. “I can’t handle it. All I’ve been thinking about—is you … Pilot. I’m starting to physically feel the loss of you when we’re apart.

“You know, I’ve been so distracted that I haven’t had a substantial conversation with my best friend in six days … She literally sleeps in the bunk underneath me. I’m not that girl.” I swallow. “I’m so distracted that I was two hours late for my first day at the most promising shot at my dream job I’ve ever been given. I’m not that girl. I never want to be that girl.”

I bring my palms to my cheeks and drag them down my face. “I’ve been texting you endlessly at work. How did I think that was okay? And I’ve barely posted on my blog. I haven’t done anything substantial to work toward this huge life goal that I somehow miraculously got a second chance at. Today, Wendy told me getting a piece published in Packed! was no longer on the table.” I throw my hands up and gesture wildly. “It’s off the table, Pilot! Just like that! Because I’ve been acting like a distracted teenager at a summer job!”

Pilot’s face crumples. “Shane. I’m so sorry b—”

“I … failed here, and I can’t sit and endure this failure all over again. I’ve already lived it. I’m not going to stay and watch my family find out about this and disown me as their daughter a second time.”

“Shane.” Pilot’s voice quakes. “I know you’re upset right now, but please, let’s just take a breath. We can figure this out. I am so sorry. I will leave you alone as long as you need. Please, just think this through, okay? Think on it for the next twenty-four hours. Please. Let’s check in again in twenty-four hours. We have something really great. I mean, at least, I thought. I, I don’t want to give up on us, on here.” He swallows.