been waiting my whole life to tell the truth. I really thought
you’d be happy for me. For us. Maybe you’re too young. Too
inexperienced.” Steph isn’t trying to be mean, she’s just
wandering through this muck of a fight that we’re suddenly
having the same way I am.
I know that, but I still go on the defensive. “It doesn’t
have anything to do with being young. When it comes to
experience, I have far more of that than you do. It’s just –
some of those experiences hit me hard. I don’t mean to dump
that on you and – I’m not ready to talk about them either. I
think I’d better just go home and try to calm down.”
I don’t give Steph a chance to respond because I just
need to get out of there before I say or do anything more
damaging. I can see how much everything I’d said already cuts
through her like a knife and I need to stop. This is all my own
shit coming out. I should have had my guard up and now I’m
scared because it wasn’t there when I needed it. I’m confused
and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m so
terribly afraid of being the one hurt. Again. Of being the one
dumped. Again. Of being the one broken. Again. Of being the
one who gets left with hardly any explanation at all.
I realize that I still have my purse nearby. My shoes are
on. I had never even set anything down. I turn and run for the
door because I just need to get out of here before I say or do
anything more damaging. I have no idea if this can be
salvaged. I don’t know what will happen to us. I don’t even
know if I’m ready for this. I thought I was, but now? It’s like
there’s a huge bump in the road, but the bump is actually a
sinkhole and I’m falling into it and there might not be a road
on the other side to get back onto.