It feels like it’s possible . . . and like it might not be that bad of a thing to happen.
When I let go, my head drops farther before I lift it up. It feels like a watermelon, all heavy and lopsided.
The clock on the wall tells me I should’ve been at work an hour ago. Matt’s probably cussing me, trying to figure out how to smooth it over with Meredith, and I’m sorry for that. I hate putting him in that position, but I can’t show up there today.
Not and see Avery.
“I wish I could just make this all go away,” I mumble. But even if I could, I don’t know what part of it I’d make vanish.
The time I spent with Avery has been the highlight of my life. It’s been the easiest to be me, the most inspiring on many levels. I’ve looked forward to every day more since I met her than I even did when I was on spring break in Florida that time.
And that was a damn good time.
Still, the parties and girls and free-flowing alcohol with not a care in the world don’t even come close to sitting on the couch with her while watching a movie.
The events of yesterday have gone through my mind so many times that they’re starting to blur. It’s beginning to seem like I wasn’t even there. Maybe I dreamed it. But if I did, I wouldn’t be alone right now with this hole in my chest. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to see Avery’s face as she walked away from me, over and over again. The disappointment in her eyes. The pain. The resolution.
Because of me. The fuckup. The boy who’d never amount to anything, as my dad both told and showed me year after year.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The knock on the door is so loud that I wonder if my house is on fire and someone is trying to let me know. I spring to my feet and pull it open with the full expectation to see men in red outfits with reflective tape.
Instead, I get a guy with a scowl and narrowed eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Matt asks.
“Good morning to you too.”
I leave the door open and turn back to the living room. As expected, the door slams shut, and his heavy steps follow me down the hall.
“Thanks for calling me this morning and telling me you aren’t coming in,” he says. “That was a super fun conversation with Meredith.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You are sorry. A sorry son of a bitch, and I mean that in every way.”
I spin around to see Matt pissed. In all the years I’ve ever known him, basically my entire life, I’ve seen him at this level of angry only a couple of times. Matt just goes with the flow. He doesn’t get worked up about things.
He’s worked up now.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” He laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “It’s what’s wrong with you, Etling.”
“Oh, great.” I fall back on the couch and hope that a black hole exchanged places with it while I was gone and I’ll just fall into the abyss. I land on the cushions. “Let’s hear it.”
He paces the room. “You consistently shoot yourself in the foot. You refuse to see your potential. You think somehow it’s okay to walk away from people that actually might like your stupid, dumb ass.”
“This isn’t the pep talk I was hoping you’d come with.”
I think steam comes out of his ears.
“Why did you think I’d come with a pep talk in the first place, considering you never even called me?” He squeezes his fists together. “And this isn’t even about work. This is about your willingness to get me up in the middle of the night to ask me to help you get your truck unstuck from a giant pit of mud you had no business fucking with at two in the morning, but you can’t call me because you just fucked up the best thing that ever happened to you.”
His words hurt. They sting as they make their intended target. But what hurts worse is the disappointment in Matt’s face.
“I had to hear it from Jake,” Matt growls. “I had to hear what went down yesterday from fucking Jake.” He almost spits the words.
“Jake doesn’t even know—”
“Nah, he said you and Avery went off to discuss it on your own, and that when she came out, she was crying and just left. And that you didn’t go after her.” He shakes his head. “So I bet I can figure out what happened.”
I can barely swallow. Hell, I can barely breathe. To hear it put like that, so cleanly, so without the reasons behind it, sounds so harsh.