Silence.
She pushed herself off of me and stood. “Ox.” Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
I was confused. “You said it!”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to fight for me.”
“Oh.”
“Ox.”
“What?”
“Do you want to fight for me?”
“Jessie,” I said. “Why are you doing this?” I reached out for our bond, to see what her colors were, but then I remembered there wasn’t any bond at all, and I felt a little sad.
She paced in front of me. “You’re never here anymore.”
“Here? I’m always here. This is my house. My room.”
“No. Here. Like you-and-me here. If I get to see you. If you remember to call me back. If you remember to text me. If, if, if, because you’re always distracted. You’re always gone. It’s like you’re fucking vacant and somewhere else and I don’t deserve that. Ox, I don’t.”
She was right. She didn’t. I told her so.
“Then fix it,” she said.
And I said, “I can’t.” She heard what I meant.
I won’t.
She took a step back away from me and I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. If I had changed. If I had become something different. Some days I still felt like the same old Ox. Other days I felt like howling a song to shake the trees.
“Why?” she asked.
“Look, Jessie,” I said. My voice was even, but I felt my heart crack just a sliver. “I have… things. To do.” I was never good with words, and they were failing me now. I struggled and latched on to the first thing that came to mind. “Priorities. I have priorities.”
“And I’m not one of them,” she said.
“No,” I said, because that wasn’t right. “You are.” But that wasn’t right either. It was an awful feeling. “Shit,” I muttered.
“I love you, Ox,” Jessie said. “Can’t you see that?”
I could. And I loved her too. In my own way. “You’re leaving,” I said instead. “In a few months.” Across the country for school.
“Yeah. I am. And we were going to try.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Because I can’t give you what you need. And it’s not fair.”
“It’s because of Joe, isn’t it? It’s because of that little shit—”