Turning from him, I took Bill’s advice from yesterday and did the only thing I could. The only option I had left…
I walked away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The pounding wouldn’t stop. After an hour, I wasn’t sure if it was at my front door, or just inside my head.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Amy!” Roman yelled and pounded the door again.
I sank deeper beneath my blanket and tried to fade into the couch. Alone. Totally and completely alone, in an apartment that, come next week, I wouldn’t be able to afford. And the man I’d risked everything for was on the other side of the deadbolt that I refused to open.
Clutching my cell phone, I stared at it. I knew what I was about to do was a terrible idea, but I couldn’t help it. I dialed.
“Hello?”
“Mom?” I sniffed. “Mom, I know th-that things aren’t perfect between u-us.” I ran the back of my hand under my nose and tried to calm my sobbing. “But I really need you right now. I’m…I’m all alone. I’ve l-lost everything and I-I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, Amy,” she sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Whatever it is that you’ve gotten yourself into, I’m sure you’ll deal with it.”
Until then, I hadn’t known a heart could break in more than one way.
“Mom,” I begged, “Please.”
Tears were running down my cheeks, and my head hurt so bad I was certain my brain was attacking itself.
“Just tell me,” I whispered. “What will it take? What do I have to do for your forgiveness?”
“Amy, I don’t think this is—”
“Tell me, Mom. For once, just say it. The truth. All of it.”
“Nothing, Amy.” Her words were sharp and steady. Like she’d known the answer to my question for a long time and had just chosen not to say it aloud.
“Nothing?” I repeated.
When she didn’t respond, I knew that whatever fragile connection had existed between us had snapped. I couldn’t say goodbye, mostly because my sobs had grown too violent.
So I hung up.
Because there was nothing left to say.
Nothing left to do.
Nothing.
I threw my face into the couch and screamed, as if my body were purging the last seven years. The cushion muffled all the shrieking pain that spewed forth.
“Amy?” Roman’s voice rang out from behind the door. I hadn’t noticed that the pounding had gotten softer. Had he heard my conversation? Did it matter?
No. Because it wouldn’t change anything.
“Amy, I’m here,” he said, repeating the words I’d said to him in the woods. But unlike then, I had nothing to hold on to. And I couldn’t open the door, because if I did, I might sink to a deeper level of despair, and fall even further into the abyss.
“Amy…” his voice was softer, like he was right against the door frame. “I fucked up. But I’m here.”