The Relationship Pact(67)

“I had to walk away from a girl I really like if I’m being honest.”

Admitting it out loud feels like a weight is off my shoulders. But it’s also accompanied by a pain, a loneliness that’s deeper and darker than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” she says gently.

I shrug. “Sometimes you have to do what you gotta do.”

“That’s what they say.” She leans forward. “You know what I say?”

“What?”

“I say that’s what people say who don’t want to really think about it.”

I chuckle sadly. “You’d be right. I don’t want to think about it.”

I sit back in my chair to put a little distance between us. I need space. Air.

Advice.

Because I don’t know if I can live like this without some help.

I avoid getting close to people so this doesn’t happen. It’s not like I don’t know the pain of losing someone you think might care about you. And even though this is different—that I’m the one walking away—it was necessary.

Hearing that song reminded me of what, and who, I am. I’ve been a chameleon my whole life. I’ve had to be to survive. But being surrounded by a family like the Masons with a woman like Larissa in my arms? I wasn’t supposed to be there. I could only keep up that charade for so long.

Eventually, they’d see me for who I am. A guy with nothing to offer, with no plans or an idea of where to even start. They’d get tired of dealing with me, of having to make excuses for me, and it would hurt a hell of a lot worse for them to walk away from me than for me to do it.

I’m saving us all trouble, really.

Even if it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever done.

“What happened?” Judy asks.

“You should see her life,” I tell her. “It’s fucking incredible. She has money, and fancy shit, and her cousin is famous. They’re the kind of people who probably have bonfires and sit around singing ‘Kumbayah.’”

“What’s her name, sweet boy?”

“Larissa Mason.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I let the back of my head hit the booth.

“So, what’s the problem? I’m not seeing it,” she says.

“Because you don’t know me well enough to see it either. Look, Grandma Judy,” I say, shaking my head, “I don’t belong in this world down here.”

“Where do you belong then?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

She reaches across the table and pats my hand. There’s a sadness in her eyes for me.

“It would be really easy for me to sit here and tell you to have faith in yourself and her,” Judy says. “And that’s the truth. You should. But you aren’t gonna listen to that, are you?”

My foot taps against the floor as my eyes sting. That fucking song about the stars plays over and over in my head. I can’t escape it. It just becomes too much.

“Faith is lies,” I say. “What am I supposed to do? Have faith that Larissa sees me differently than I am. When push comes to shove, I’m me and I can’t get around that.”

“Maybe she doesn’t see you like you see yourself. Maybe she sees you like I do.”

I appreciate her smile, but it makes me sadder.

“Do you know how hard it is to know that no one wants you?” I ask her.

Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sure you don’t because you’re a great person. But I’m going to tell you that I’m not like that. I’m not the guy that people keep around. And that’s cool. I’ve accepted it about myself. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a motherfucker.”

“Oh, honey.”

My chest burns as I spew my truth, something I’ve never done out loud before. It’s freeing and cathartic and, before I know it, my mouth is running again.

“I don’t want to go through that again,” I say, more animated this time. “It hurts so fucking bad, and you just gotta keep going. You have to get up the next morning and go to class or to work or whatever it is and know the whole time that you’re just out there by yourself. You wonder if everyone is looking at you—like can they see the stain on your soul?”

“Hollis, stop that.”

“Why? It’s true.” My jaw clenches. “I’m like a pet that is left on the side of the road when the family moves, Judy. And that’s fine. But it’s a whole hell of a lot easier to just stay alone than to watch that car drive off.”

“So, we’re moving, Hollis. I got a job offer in Detroit. Kim will make some calls, but it’s probably not legal to take you with us, and you’ll be eighteen soon enough anyway …”

My eyes burn with a mixture of anger and pain, but I hide it from the only lady who’s ever accepted me.

“I can’t imagine what it would feel like to watch Riss leave me,” I say, my voice wobbly. “I’m sure I wouldn’t survive it.”

“Hollis, honey, listen to your grandma,” she says. “Every door that has closed on you wasn’t your door. The good Lord isn’t going to let you walk into a room that’s not the room for you.”