“I’m definitely not as independent as you,” I admitted. “But I’m working on it. I don’t expect you to take care of me.”
“If you talk him around, your daddy can find me a job somewhere, right? Probably buy our first house, too. Which would be fucking awesome, if I was for sale.”
My nails bit into my palms so hard that I felt them slice through and a sting of blood seeping in red crescents. Too late, I understood how much I’d hurt him and how little I could do to change it. I didn’t think it would matter if I told him that I never considered what my father earned to be mine—that I didn’t come from a long line of trust funds. Talking about the 50K I had from my granddad would probably sound like a boast when I’d only mean that it was all I had that was mine, money he’d saved up over his whole life...and that was why I’d never touched it, why I was still thinking about whether I should use it to start my indie label. If I failed, it would be like pissing on my grandfather’s legacy.
“I can see this is too big for an apology.”
“Yeah,” he said with awful finality.
“Just to be perfectly clear, we’re breaking up now?”
He pushed up on his hands, returning to his chair. Except for the shine of his eyes, I could almost believe his indifference. “It was done when I left the condo, when I didn’t answer your texts or calls. But you wanted to scrape it raw, so we have.”
“Okay. Sorry.” It was all I could do to get those two words out without crying.
I dragged myself upright, found my backpack; it was nearly enough weight to topple me over. Somehow I stumbled to my room and shut the door quietly behind me. My head was a mess when I fell on my bed, just a constant whirl of what-ifs and inchoate plans to get him back. The tears surprised me; I didn’t even realize I was crying until I touched my cheeks and noticed how wet my pillow was. They were silent tears, thank God. I choked back all sounds, not wanting Max to hear me. I was still crying when I passed out, and when I woke early the next morning, my cheeks were still damp.
I have to go, I thought.
There was just no way I could stay, and Max had been here first. So instead of making breakfast or taking a shower, I got out my suitcase and packed it. The boxes I’d used to move from the dorm were still in the closet; they only needed me to bust out the packing tape, so I could fill them with my belongings. I didn’t even know where I was going but I kept collecting my stuff like a robot because if I thought too hard about why this was necessary, I’d end up in a ball on the floor.
I wished I’d told Max that I loved him. If I said it now, he’d take it for emotional manipulation. And he wouldn’t be 100 percent wrong. Exhaling, I looked around to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. But nope, all that was left was Kia’s stuff. It was hard not to think this room was cursed, man. First Lauren had flunked out, then I had to move because of a messy breakup. But it could be argued that if she’d studied and I hadn’t gotten involved with my roommate, we both would’ve been fine. And Nadia had moved out for adorable reasons.
It took all my courage to open my bedroom door, but the apartment was deserted. Though Max’s bedroom door was closed, I knew he wasn’t in there just from the empty feeling. I didn’t feel like eating, so instead of fixing food, I used the fridge magnets to leave him a final message. I Am Sorry. I Will Miss You. Not nearly enough, but it was all I could give him.
Then I called Evan, who picked up on the first ring, like he was expecting my call. “You okay, funny girl?”
“Not remotely. Is your offer still good?”
“Sure. But I expect you to pay rent. This isn’t a free lunch, you know.”
“Just let me know how much.”
God only knew how I’d afford double rent payments since my parents had cut me off. If I called to tell them Max and I were done, they’d send me new cards and pay off my lease, glad to have me away from him. But I’m not doing that. This is my problem, and I’ll figure it out.
“How soon do you need me there?” he asked.
“ASAP. My ex isn’t here right now, and I kind of feel like he’s making himself scarce until I clear out.” Maybe I was wrong about that, but I couldn’t feel good about Max sleeping at the garage or in his secret river spot, especially in this weather.
It was your home first. I won’t take it away from you. I guess that means I can’t email Michael anymore. And that hurt as much as if he were actually my brother, and I wasn’t allowed talk to him. No more Uncle Lou. I can’t really hang out with Kia and Angus anymore, either. Since Nadia’s outside the apartment, I can probably still hang out with her, as long as Max isn’t around. Every breakup ended in friendship casualties with people taking sides.
Every time I thought about calling or sending texts, the tears started fresh. In the end, I decided to postpone explanations until after break. No reason to ruin any else’s holiday. Grief made it hard for me to haul stuff down. At one point, I sat on the bottom step and cried until I couldn’t breathe. Outside, I swiped until my face was chapped and cold, probably dusty, as well. My eyes were so swollen, I could barely see. But half an hour later, I had all my stuff downstairs on the sidewalk.
Evan pulled up just as I sat down on the curb to wait. “Jesus Christ. You look like slow-roasted hell.”
I couldn’t deny it. “You have a way with words. You should write lyrics.”
“We can work on that while we’re rooming together. Get in the van and warm up. I’ll load up for you.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“I’m not convinced you can stop me.” He poked me with a fingertip and I wobbled.
Conceding the point, I stumbled over and got in, then closed my eyes, tilting my head against the back of the seat. Evan was good at manual labor, so within a few minutes he was in the driver’s seat, briskly rubbing his hands against the cold. He checked the heat, then glanced over at me.
“Looks like I owe you again,” I said.
“Don’t worry, I’m keeping a tab. At this rate, you’ll be my indentured keyboardist.”
I was supposed to smile at that, but I couldn’t. If I fell down another step, I’d be in the doctor’s office, claiming I needed help sleeping. Pretty pills, pink and blue, one to take the pain away, another that let me pretend I was still alive.
“Okay.” It was easier to agree to be his musical slave, echoes of how I used to be.