Jet watches me closely, likely weighing the benefits of being honest. “No, I’m not a sex addict. And no, I wasn’t at those meetings legitimately.”
Hearing him admit it, even though I already knew the answers, is like a broadsword to the sternum.
“Oh, God! How could I have been so stupid? How could I have trusted you? Of all people, why you? Why did I pick you to trust?”
Jet grabs my arms again, hauling me in close to him. “Because you knew that, deep down, I’m a man that you can trust.”
His eyes are pleading with me, but I don’t care. All I see is a liar and the man who betrayed the only trust I’ve ever given.
“Well, now I can see that I was wrong. You’re nothing like the person I thought you were. And now, you’re nothing to me at all.”
I twist my arms free, pushing against his chest until he lets me go. In his face, I see pain and disappointment and shame, but my heart is hard. Right now, there is nothing he could say or do to penetrate the iron shell around it.
I turn back to my car, angrily snatching open the door. I barely hear his voice before I slam it shut.
“I guess you really didn’t love me after all.”
His words barrel into me like a train going a thousand miles per hour. I actually gasp in the quiet and squeeze my eyes shut, praying that he’ll just go away and not make things worse. But when I look up to start my vehicle, I see that he’s still standing at my window, still and silent. I don’t look at him as I shift gears. And I don’t look back as I drive away.
FORTY: Jet
I never knew words could hurt so much, and I’ve heard some pretty shitty ones. My mom. My dad. A few other people I’ve cared about. They might’ve bothered me. But hurt? Nah. Not really.
Not until now.
Violet’s words hurt. Hearing her say that I’m nothing to her was like being run over by a ’54 Buick.
I watch her drive away, holding my breath until I see her taillights disappear, hoping she’ll stop. Or turn around. Or come back to me. But knowing she won’t.
And she doesn’t. She just keeps going. Driving out of my life. Probably never planning to come back.
I wish she’d given me a chance to explain. Not that it would’ve made any difference. I knew that if she ever found out she would hate me. I guess that’s why I never wanted her to know, why I didn’t have the balls to tell her. I could’ve confessed when she did, but even then, I didn’t have the courage. Not like she did. That’s what separates us. She’s a good person, a strong person, and I’m an ass**le. Just like I’ve always been. Just like everybody knew I was. Even my own mother.
As I stand staring at the empty parking spot, my mind wanders, wanders to the what ifs and the if onlys. If only things had been different . . . but not so different that I wouldn’t have really seen her. But what if I’d met Violet under different circumstances and I hadn’t really seen her? What if I hadn’t been able to appreciate her? Or what if I wouldn’t have been attracted to her?
I know the answer to one of those. I know I would’ve been attracted to her. She’s hot, plain and simple, regardless of the situation. But would I have taken the time to get to know how kind and beautiful her soul is? Would I have recognized her strength? Or would I have hit on her, been rejected, and then moved on to another?
It’s hard to say. I imagine I’d have moved on, but it’s impossible to know for sure. Right now, it seems like the guy I was a couple of months ago is a complete stranger. Somehow, while I thought I was just enjoying myself, Violet was making me a better person. Not because she was trying to or because she didn’t think I was good enough. She did it through no fault or effort of her own. It’s just who she is. Being with her made me the man that my mother could let back into my brothers’ lives. Being with her made me see what a dickhole I’ve been, and how I don’t want to be that guy anymore. And being with her made me realize that I’m an addict. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but I’m an addict nonetheless. Addicted to feeling good. To hiding from anything slightly uncomfortable or unpleasant. At least I was an addict. I don’t know what I am now, other than lost. Without her, I’m just lost.
Needing her, wanting to be with her snuck up on me. Loving her came too easy, too naturally. I hadn’t even gotten used to it and now it’s gone. She’s gone. And I don’t know what I’ll ever be without her.
Other than less. A lot less.
That I know for sure.
FORTY-ONE: Violet
My anger only lasts a few miles. It only burned hot enough to withstand the hurricane of my anguish for a short while. Now it’s gone, leaving me with devastation again. Cold, miserable, hopeless devastation. Nothing more.
When I’ve stopped sniffling enough to speak coherently, I dial Tia’s number. She answers with a question.
“Please tell me you went. Did you go?”
“Oh, I went all right,” I reply.
“And?”
Just like that, the flood starts up again, as if there is an endless supply of tears locked away somewhere deep inside me.
“Oh, God, Tia! I was part of a bet!”
There’s a short, tense pause and then, “Say what?”
I snort and hiccup. “Th-the other guys in h-his band bet him that even he wa-wasn’t such a playboy that he’d bed a sex addict. And-and he did it. He t-took the bet and I was the . . . I was the pawn.” The last word is virtually drowned out by the sob torn from my chest.
“Are you shittin’ me?” Tia says, her voice dangerously calm.
I can’t even collect myself enough to answer her right away. “Of course not,” I finally manage.
“Tell me where to find him, Vi. I’ll pull that bastard’s dick off with a pair of pliers and shove it so far up his ass he won’t be hungry for a week!”
Normally, a comment like that would elicit some kind of reaction in me—laughter, chagrin—but not tonight. Tonight, I don’t want her anger, even though it’s on my behalf. Tonight, I need something else from her.
“Tia, tell me how to fix this. Tell me how to make this go away.”
“Make what go away, honey?”
“The pain. It hurts so bad,” I cry. “I feel like I’m dying inside. Please. Help me.”
“I wish I could, Vi. But the only thing that takes away the pain is time. It will, though. I promise. It goes away. Eventually.”
As fun and free as Tia is, I’ve seen her with a broken heart before. It was one of those times that I was glad to be the way I am. Or the way I was. I wanted nothing to do with pain like that. I’m not sure she ever recovered. Not fully. Her wild ways seemed to get wilder and then never completely go away after that. Ryan was his name, and he damaged Tia. Maybe permanently.