by Meghan Quinn
I take her to a restaurant I know has a variety of salads she’ll appreciate. The mood in the space is dark and sleek, something she’ll like as well, and I see her approval as we make our way to a booth toward the back of the restaurant.
Folding her napkin on her lap, she adjusts her silverware, and then takes a look at the menu, her lips scrunched up as she peruses. I already know what I’m getting—the kale salad with no dressing. It’s not even close to my favorite, but I refuse to give my mom an opening to make any sort of comment toward my eating habits. Not today.
Once we order, my mom getting the same thing as me, and settling for water with lemon, she twists the glass and then folds her hands together. “Care to explain why you chose not to visit with your mother when you were in town?”
It was only a matter of time before she asked, and I’m surprised it took her this long. I’m also a little annoyed she decided to do it in a public place.
And honestly, I don’t have a good answer other than the truth. I glance at her and for the first time in my life, I feel like telling her the truth. What do I have to lose? I already despise everything about her. She’s made it impossible to be confident, to love my soul, so why not set her straight? The worst she can do is blame everything on me, and it’s not like that’s going to change anything. She’s made it clear I’m beneath her, uglier than her, and completely less than her in every way. Why the fuck am I holding back?
I’m at my lowest. Rock-bottom. How much lower can I go?
“Why didn’t I visit with you?” I take a deep breath and look her in the eyes. “Because I didn’t want to.”
Caught off guard, she leans back and says, “Why?”
Staying poised, hands on the table, I say, “Do you remember the first day of sixth grade when I split my pants? I bought a Juicy Couture track suit, ready to wow everyone at school. I worked hard that summer to lose weight and did everything I could to get ready for that big day. I walked into school feeling confident despite your attempt to make me change.” She stares at me, arms crossed now, not making a sound. “I was humiliated when my pants split in the back, so humiliated that all I wanted to do was crawl in a corner and never see the light of day again.” I pause, letting that sink in. “And do you know what you said to me when you brought me a replacement pair of jeans that day? Do you remember what you said to your pre-teen daughter who was suffering from social anxiety and humiliation?”
Chin level, she says, “I don’t recall.” Translation? I couldn’t give a shit.
“Well, I do.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You said, I told you not to eat all those cookies this summer.”
She scoffs. “I would never say such a thing.”
“So are you calling me a liar? Because I have a whole fucked-up memory box of every shitty thing you’ve ever said to me stored and ready to unleash.” I tap my temple. I try desperately to stop the reel from showing, but I can see it all. Every sneer, every look of scorn, and every sense of failure. I won’t even begin to think about prom. You would have thought I’d have been prepared for her contempt for that wardrobe choice, even though I’d lost weight by then. But no.
My mom shakes her head dismissively. “Ryan, watch your language. This is neither the time nor place to be talking about something like this.”
“You brought it up.” I’m having a hard time controlling my voice. “You’re the one who wanted to know why I didn’t visit with you. Well, it’s because I didn’t want to be told how I can be living my life better, how I can style my hair better, how I can lose those extra pounds. I didn’t want to be told why I’m not perfect in your eyes one more time.” Tears start to well in my eyes, and I attempt to tamp them down, not wanting to cry in front of my mom.
“You’re being dramatic, Ryan.”
“I’m being dramatic?” I point to my chest, the first tear falling from my eye. “I’m telling you the truth. Ever since I can remember, you have criticized me about my weight, constantly told me how I couldn’t eat the things I was eating, berated me for my hair, for my makeup, for my clothing choices. You made me feel so bad about my body that I wouldn’t hang out with friends in fear they thought the same thing about me. You didn’t let me be a little girl.” Another tear that I quickly wipe away. “Young girls are impressionable, and the only reason why I didn’t harm myself was because I had a loving father—”
“Who encouraged your terrible habits.” She sits back in the booth completely unapologetic and unwilling to let anything I’m saying penetrate. And that’s when I realize the undisguised truth. No matter what I say, no matter how blue in the face I get from telling her story after story of the many times she emotionally destroyed me, she’s not going to change. Or accept any responsibility. There is no relationship here, and there never will be.
Pressing my lips together, I bring my purse close to my side, ready to bolt. “You know, I have a boyfriend—”
“For how long this time? Two weeks? They come and go like the seasons with you, Ryan. You need to stop trying to be someone you’re not.”
“Someone I’m not? Are you kidding me right now? I’m trying every goddamn day of my life to figure out who the hell I am, because your parenting repressed the person I’m supposed to be. I have no idea who I am, because I’ve been chasing after the image of a daughter I’ve been incapable of being for my entire life. I am the way I am today because of you.”
I stand from my booth, tossing my napkin on the table, not caring if anyone is listening in.
“Sit down,” my mom says through clenched teeth.
“Because of you, I can’t be the woman my man deserves. Because of you, I will always think I’m less than what I am. And because of you, I can’t move on with my life the way I deserve to. You’re an awful human being, a terrible mother, and an absolute bitch. You want to know why I didn’t visit you while I was in Colorado? Because I couldn’t even bear to look at your face. That’s how much I despise you. Hope you have a hotel booked and know how to use Uber, because I’m out.”
Without another look, I walk out of the restaurant on an adrenaline high that I know is only going to crash and burn later tonight. I should feel liberated. I should feel fucking free. But I don’t. I feel sliced wide open.
I am nothing.
Because of that bitch, I am nothing.
No one.
A disappointment.
Air mattress is in the trash can.
Camping chairs are folded up.
Boxes are packed and in my car.
And the apartment is clean.
I glance around the space one last time, remembering the good times I had in this little sanctuary. The laughter, the love, and the sex with the one man I’ve only ever truly loved. It was a good little apartment, but it’s time to leave.
With one more parting glance, I shut the door, turn in the keys to the leasing office, and head to my car, a heavy heart in my chest and determination to change for the better.
As I approach my car, I see a figure around the back, startling me, until I realize it’s Colby in his flight suit, aviators blocking his deep, trusting eyes. Eyes I can’t look into right now. Or maybe never again.
Head tilted down, I make my way toward him and stop a few inches short.
He’s the first to speak. “So that’s it, huh? You were going to leave without talking to me?”
This is going to be the hardest part of my decision, but even if he can’t understand it now, maybe he will at some point.
“Stryder call you?”
“Yeah, he did. In the midst of taking care of their newborn baby girl, Stryder called me and asked if I knew you were moving in with them. And yet, my girlfriend, the one actually moving, couldn’t bother to answer me the past two days or talk to me about what she was planning on doing.” He runs his hand through his hair. “What the fuck, Ryan? I thought we talked about this. I thought you weren’t going to run anymore.”
“I was on my way to your place right now to talk
to you.” And that’s the truth. I wouldn’t have left without talking to him. Not when he’s been my rock for so long. He’s been my everything for so long.
“You were on your way? What about talking to me before you packed your boxes? What about shooting me a quick text to let me know that you’re okay, that your mom didn’t completely destroy you? What about common courtesy or a heads-up that you planned on leaving, so I didn’t rush over here in a panic thinking you were leaving without even saying a goddamn word to me?”
“I was afraid you were going to convince me to stay.”
“You’re damn right I’m going to convince you to stay.” His anger starts to evaporate as he takes his glasses off and puts them in his pocket. His eyes are bloodshot. Guilt instantly consumes me. “Ryan, I don’t know your reasons for moving back to the Springs because frankly, you won’t talk to me, but what I do know is I love you, and I want to be here for you. I want to hold your hand when you’re sad and celebrate you when you’re happy. I don’t have a choice in what happens with my life, but you have a choice. Be with me, please. Don’t run.”
And this is why I didn’t tell him, because I knew he’d make it exponentially harder.
“Colby.”
He shakes his head. “No, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve given up on us, haven’t you?”
“Colby, you deserve so much more than what I can give you.”
“Bullshit. You fucking know that’s bullshit.” His anger appears again, this time both his hands pull on the back of his neck as he looks toward the sky. “You are what I want, what I crave. I don’t care about whatever baggage you’re carrying, because it doesn’t affect how I see you. How I love you. What I care about is you and keeping you in my life. Fuck, Ryan, don’t you see? I’m desperately in love with you, and I would do anything to make you realize that. Don’t leave because it’s getting tough.”
“That’s not why I’m leaving.”
“Then why are you fucking leaving?” His hands fly out to the side. Because I’m not enough. And I want to be.
I chew on my bottom lip and strain myself to hold back the tears. I hate feeling like I’m yet another woman walking away from Colby’s love, because his love is all-encompassing. Pure. The best sort of love.
But I need to learn to love myself first, and right now, I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. Right now, I’m barely strong enough to walk away to try to save myself. “Because I’m not healthy,” I answer truthfully. “I look in the mirror and don’t see the girl you see, Colby. I look at my career and see someone who has no direction and no idea what they want in life. I stare at my makeup, hating myself for having to use it every damn day to feel like I hold a sliver of a candle to all the women who walk around me.”
“Baby, come here.” Colby pulls me into his arms and presses his lips against my temple, and I allow myself to feel him, to feel his warmth one more time. Speaking low, he says, “How can I convince you that you are so much more than what you see?”
I shake my head. “You can’t.” I wipe away a wayward tear and pull away, pushing against his chest and breaking the hold he has around me. “I love you, Colby, but I can’t be the girl you need, not when I don’t know who I am.”
“What are you saying, Ryan?”
I move toward the driver’s side of my car, eyes cast down, unable to see the distraught look on his face. “I’m saying goodbye.”
I go to open my car door and he puts his hand on it, his other hand lifting my chin. “Ryan”—his eyes are watering, and I’m about lose it—“stay with me. Please. We can work this out. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to understand your worth. Just stay with me.”
Sorrowful tears stream down my cheeks, my gut churns, and the need to throw up is threatening. This man is everything I could have dreamed of for myself, for any woman really, he’s that perfect. A kind heart, a loving soul, a protective rock and yet, I can’t give myself to him when I can’t look at myself in the mirror without hating every last inch of my skin. It’s not fair to him to go to Korea where I will slowly implode. He doesn’t need that worry when he’s in the sky.
I need to be well.
I need to find something inside me to love.
“I love you, Colby. I love you so much that I’m saving you from the self-destruction that’s churning inside of me. I can’t be healthy for you. I can’t figure out my life and be the woman you need. You need to be safe and focused in your plane, not worrying what I’m doing at home, if I’m out of bed, if I’m able to climb out of this pit of despair I feel myself sinking into every minute of every day.” Because I have no idea if I will be able to get out of this pit. The surface, the light, seems so fucking far away. I stand on my toes and press a kiss against his jaw. “Please be safe.”
I take one of the biggest steps of my life . . . away from Colby and into my car, where I shut the door and turn on the engine. I glance out my window to see Colby on the sidewalk, both hands gripping the back of his neck, a tortured soul being unfairly dragged through the mud by me. But no longer.
A tiny voice inside me is telling me this is not the best thing for Colby or for me. The muted words are telling me I’m only adding to the list of people in his life who have rejected him, left him, and this isn’t fair at all. With all my heart, I wish I could reach within me to listen to her. But the roaring in my ears is the voice that screams not good enough. He deserves better.
And for now? For now, I can’t have him worrying about me when he has far more important things to focus on. Mine is a life he can’t save. Can’t protect. Not emotionally, anyway. I will love him forever, and if he forgives me down the road, I’ll be the luckiest woman on the planet.
I love you, Colby. Always will.
But I need to heal.
It’s time I tried.
Chapter Twenty-Two
COLBY
Pick up. Pick up. Come the fuck on and pick—
“Hello?”
Thank Christ.
“How is she?”
Every day I’ve called Rory, looking for an update on Ryan, wanting to know exactly what’s going on, because even though Ryan thinks this is the end, she’s so fucking wrong. We might be apart, but that means shit to me. I know deep down now I was wrong. I loved Rory, but she wasn’t deep in my soul. I loved Sage, because she made life easy and uncomplicated. Ryan? My broken firecracker? She’s the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and to hell if I’ll let her think otherwise.
“She’s not great,” Rory answers. When I spoke to her after Ryan left about keeping me in the loop, I told her never to beat around the bush. I wanted the truth, and I needed to know exactly how Ryan was doing so I could form a plan to make her see her worth. “She was in bed until noon today. She’s helped with Hailey a little bit, but she’s been in her room for most of the day, and whenever she comes out, her eyes are bloodshot. I’ve tried to get her to eat, but it’s been hit or miss.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, pressing my palm into my eyes. “And she still doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“No,” Rory answers sadly. “She keeps telling me I need to drop it. I need to drop the idea of you two being together.”
“Fuck, Rory. What the hell am I supposed to do? I leave for Korea tomorrow.”
“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. I wish there was more you could do.”
“I can’t even fly there to attempt to convince her otherwise. I’m literally strapped to my commitment here.” I start pacing my house, the space empty as my belongings are in storage. I’m not taking anything with me to Korea besides clothing and a picture of Ryan and me. “I don’t understand why she won’t let me help her or why she won’t get out of bed.”
Rory sighs on the phone and says, “Hold on.” In the background I can hear her talking to Stryder before the click of a door sounds and the telltale sound of her starting her car rings through the phone.
Finally she says, “You said I can be honest with you, right?”
“Yes, always be honest with me.”
“Okay, then I’m going to give it to you straight, Colby. This is something you can’t fix. I’ve known Ryan for a very long time, and I’ve seen her go through good and bad spells. I’ve seen the way her mom has treated her, how she eats her up and spits her back out with a disgusted look on her face. She’s a horrible woman who knows exactly how to get under Ryan’s skin. When her mom went to Vegas, she denied ever bullying her. It was a blow to Ryan and any self-confidence she had left. I know very little of what was said, but what I do know is what I told you. She’s not in a position where anyone can help her. It’s going to have to be her decision to figure this out.”
“So we’re going to sit by and let her slowly hate herself more and more every day? How is that a good idea, Rory? How could that possibly end with a happily ever after? It’s now more than ever that she needs positive affirmation.”
“I understand that, Colby,” Rory says firmly. “And I also understand you’re hurting and worried because you’re about to fly across the world and can’t do anything to help your girl.”
I can’t. I’m helpless at this point, my hands are tied, and I have nothing left to give.
“I need to be with her, Rory.”
“I know, and I want nothing more than for you two to be together as well, but that is never going to happen unless she gets healthy first. This is not about her being stubborn, and as you well know, she is the master of stubborn.” A small smile passes over my lips, knowing exactly what Rory is talking about, having experienced Ryan’s stubborn side many times. “This is about her being unwell and not being able to see out of the darkness right now. She needs professional help, Colby.”
“How can we get her to be healthy again?” But now I wonder . . . has she ever been healthy?
“I invited her dad over for dinner tonight, and I’m going to have him encourage her to go to counseling. I have a friend I met through Special Olympics who helps individuals with body image issues, and I think she would be perfect. She said she’d love to work with Ryan.”