Can't Look Away(87)
“But how do I know that for sure when I can’t even get in touch with you?”
“I dunno, Moll, it’s a little thing called trust? Last time I checked, a relationship doesn’t work without it.”
“Don’t you dare be sarcastic right now, Jake. A relationship doesn’t work without communication, either, but you’ve been more than willing to throw that right out the window. And you’re delusional if you think there’s a healthy amount of trust here, especially when you’re impossible to reach on the phone!”
“But you know I’m shit with my phone!”
“So what? I just have to accept the fact that when you’re out of town, I may or may not hear from you? How many times can we have this same fucking fight, Jake? You can’t just drop off the face of the earth when you feel like it!” Molly was yelling now, the anger rising like a tide inside her chest. “How do you not realize how selfish that is?”
“Take it easy, Molly. What more can I do right now than apologize? It’s gonna be a long life together if you lay into me this hard every time I make a mistake.”
“What life together?” Normally, Molly was instantly soothed when Jake referenced their future, the idea that theirs was a forever love. But not this time.
“Ours, I thought! Christmas in Paris, you in a white dress someday, music, writing, kids. Happiness. Isn’t that the plan?”
“Kids?” Molly spat. “You think you’re in any kind of position to have kids? Mr. ‘It’s all out of my control, you know I’m bad with my phone’?” Molly could hear her tone turning ugly, but something in her had snapped and she couldn’t stop now. “You’d be a terrible father, Jake, just like your own. You don’t know how to care about anyone other than yourself.” It was the cruelest thing she could say, but the words felt good flying out of her mouth; she felt them soar through the phone, across the Atlantic Ocean, landing bitterly in Jake’s heart. Stinging there. She hoped they’d rot there. She was happy to hurt him, to inflict a semblance of the pain she felt.
He said nothing. Molly could only hear the sound of his shallow breathing on the other end of the phone. She pictured him perched on the edge of the hotel bed, the cotton of his T-shirt pulled taut between the span of his shoulder blades as he rubbed the nape of his neck with his free hand.
In her head, Molly heard her mother’s voice the first time she’d brought Jake home to Denville, two Labor Day weekends ago. Just keep your wits about you. People change, especially when they’re young and have dreams.
And Jake’s own voice, the very next day. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to be a good man. No one ever showed me, you know? And that scares me.
“What do we do now?” The words cracked as Jake spoke them; she could tell he was crying now, too.
“I’m not coming tomorrow,” Molly said as evenly as she could muster. “Please just accept that. There isn’t anything you can do to change my mind.” She hung up, powered off her phone. She huddled underneath the covers as racking sobs seized her body. All these years, Molly had been so wrong about Jake. She’d always thought he was the one who infiltrated her most desolate corners with permanent light—but she’d been mistaken. Jake was like the sun, only shining on her when his conditions allowed it. And she was the earth, revolving around him, often in darkness.
* * *
Christmas came and went. Molly spent the holiday at home in Denville. She told her mother she’d canceled her trip to Europe because Alexis had given her a new deadline.
“She’s making you work over the holidays?” Her mother had frowned. “You must be so upset. You and Jake had this all planned out. And you’ve been talking about seeing Paris forever.”
“Yeah.” Molly had nodded glumly, looking as destroyed as she felt. “But Jake will be there for a while. I might try to go visit in February instead.” She felt guilty, but she’d been unable to tell her mother the truth—about Jake, about the night of Nina’s party, about any of it. Until she spoke the words out loud, none of it needed to be real.
Another lie slipped the day after Christmas when Molly explained to her family that she needed to get back to Brooklyn to teach.
“But I thought you got subs for all your classes?” her mom challenged. “Since you’re supposed to be in Europe?”
“I did, but when I canceled the trip, I asked Veronica if I could pick up some extras. A lot of other teachers are away right now, and I need the money.”
“I see.” A skeptical expression had crossed her mother’s face. “Well, we’ll miss you in Naples. If you change your mind, I’d be happy to pay for your flight.”
“That’s nice of you, Mom, but I should probably just sequester myself in Brooklyn, anyway, so I can tackle this revision.”
Of course, Molly hadn’t picked up extra classes; like everyone else, Veronica thought she was drinking Gamay and eating buttery pastries in France. But Molly couldn’t have put on a happy face and gone to Naples with her mom and Andrew, as much as she missed her grandmother. She needed the time in Williamsburg to wallow in the remnants of her own shattered heart, and to figure out what the hell she was going to do.
Molly spent the week after Christmas alone in the apartment, ordering takeout and binging all ten seasons of Friends and speaking to no one. Jake called so many times that she finally blocked his number. The sound of his voice would break her, and Molly couldn’t afford to break. Not anymore.