“It’s hard to explain.” Her mind searches desperately for some way out of this, to save things.
“Try,” he insists.
And she can see his trust isn’t solid and whole anymore. There’s a crack—a tiny one, but it’s spreading.
“Were you trying to get pregnant for some reason?” he asks. “But why? That makes no sense.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what?”
Blair understands now how the way she took advantage of him that night was indecent. For all her love, she wronged him in an ugly way, and she’s ashamed for it.
“I wanted you,” she finally admits. “I wanted all of you.”
Nathan goes to sit on the bed. “Help me out here, Blair. I’m trying to understand, but none of this makes sense.”
“I love you,” she says.
He nods, wary. “I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
“Course I do.”
She takes a deep breath then lets it out, lets it spill. The floodgates open. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you, Nathan. The very first time Tori brought me to your house and I saw you there in the yard playing Frisbee.” She smiles at him. “You blew my mind.”
“The first time you saw me? But that was years ago. We were still teenagers.”
“I know. And I’ve been in love with you every single day since then. Crazy in love with you.”
“What?” Nathan blinks. “You serious?”
“I am.” Blair is shaking all over, her breath erratic. There’s a strange exhilaration coursing through her.
“You’ve been in love with me all these years? How come you never said anything?”
“Because I was too afraid. I didn’t know how you’d react. And years ago, I never told you because I knew you didn’t have any feelings for me.”
“What about the dipshit, though? Obviously you loved him, too.”
“My God, Nathan.” She gives a humorless laugh. “It’s you I was talking about.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re the guy I loved who didn’t love me back.”
He’s quiet, taking this in. “All this time you let me think there’s some other guy, when it’s me? I’m the fucking dipshit?”
He gets off the bed now, starts pacing the room. “Were you trying to trick me into marrying you? That why you lied about being on the pill?”
“No.” And in this, Blair knows she’s telling the truth. That was the last thing on her mind. Strange as it sounds, she was so obsessively focused in the moment, pregnancy never even occurred to her.
“Then what? Why the hell did you lie?”
Blair licks her lips. “Because I wanted you, okay? I wanted the intimacy. I’d been in love with you for so long. I thought that was my only chance to be with you in every way.”
Nathan stops pacing and stares at her, breathing hard. “Jesus Christ, is that really what you call love?” She realizes the crack in his trust is spreading fast. “I don’t even know who you are. Thought I did,” and she sees the hurt in his eyes, “thought I knew you, Blair. Thought I’d finally found someone real I could hold on to.”
“You still can.” She tries to go to him, but he moves away from her. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I made a mistake that night, a terrible mistake. I wish I could take it back.”
Nathan shakes his head. “I changed my whole life because of that mistake.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know shit!” He points to his chest. “Should I tell you what this Sanskrit means?”
He’s wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, but Blair has traced the lines of that tattoo over his heart so many times, she has it memorized.
“Got it right after I went to India. After you lost the baby.”
She looks at his chest then flashes to his face. “I don’t . . . understand.”
“It says ‘angel.’”
Blair opens her mouth. Stunned. It’s like being struck—the blow nearly physical. She puts her hand against the wall to steady herself. “I didn’t think you cared I lost the baby.”
“I cared.” His voice vibrates through the room. “I married you. You think I would have done that if I didn’t care?”
“You never said anything to me.” She thinks back to how he looked right after he found out about the miscarriage. His face grim, but unreadable, finally realizing now she’s been misinterpreting his expression all these years. It turns out he was suffering.
“Didn’t know I had to spell it out for you. Not that kind of loss.”
Her throat grows so tight she can barely speak. “I suffered too.”
“Yeah,” he says, “I know you did.”
She looks over at him, and when their eyes meet, an understanding passes between them.
He’s still staring at her. “After the way I was raised, you think I don’t take that shit seriously? That I’d allow any child of mine to live in this world unprotected and fatherless?”
“I just never knew it mattered so much to you.” Her hand is still against the wall, trying to ground herself somehow.
“Then you don’t know me.”
Blair almost laughs at the irony of this. She studied him for years, obsessively cataloging every detail. But he’s right. I didn’t know him.
I do now.
“Thought you were different than anyone I’d ever been with,” he says, his voice ragged. “That you changed my life, that I finally found someone I could really trust. But turns out you’re worse than all of them.”
Blair gazes out the window. The same window she looked through a thousand times, lovesick and dreaming of him. Pain slices through her. Almost from a distance she understands the real pain is still waiting for her. Wonders how she’ll survive it. It will either cure me or kill me.
“Guess I’m not such a good girl after all,” she whispers.
When she turns back to Nathan, she sees something in his eyes, something horrible. His trust is no longer cracked. It’s shattered.
It’s late, well after midnight, when her mom finds her curled up in the guest bedroom. Blair doesn’t move or say anything, just lies there hugging herself. Her mom sits down near the edge of the bed, both of them silent.
“I did something terrible,” Blair finally admits, her voice quiet. “Something I’m ashamed of.”
Her mom’s hand goes out to touch her hair, strokes it the way she used to when Blair was small. “I take it this involves Nathan.”
Blair nods.
“You love him, don’t you?”
“For a very long time.”
“I see.”
They’re both silent again. Blair thinks of how this all took place in her old bedroom. The walls of this room infused with her hopes and dreams. Now this is the room where all her hopes and dreams died.
“Sometimes,” her mom speaks, breaking the silence. “It’s good when the truth comes out, even if it’s painful.”
Blair doesn’t say anything.
“You don’t want to build your life on lies, honey.”
“I know.”
Her mom gets up and fixes the bed for her so she can sleep in it. Removes the pillow shams, then pulls the duvet back. Helps her climb under the covers as if she were a child again.
“Do you want to borrow some pajamas to sleep in?” her mom asks.
“No, this is okay. I’ll just sleep in my shirt and underwear.”
“Okay.”
After her mom leaves, Blair lies in the dark for a long time, listening to the familiar sounds of her old room. The occasional creak and groan of the walls and floorboards. Wonders where Nathan is right now and if he went back to the condo.
Maybe I should have gone after him.
But then realizes she doesn’t even have a car, since he would have left with Isadora.
Blair tries to close her eyes and let sleep come. It doesn’t work, though. Every time, all she sees is Nathan’s face, that terrible expression. The way I
hurt him.
The next morning, her mom gives her a ride back and drops her off. Neither of them talk about Nathan or what happened and for that, she’s grateful. Blair hasn’t cried yet. Instead, she feels this peculiar numbness all over, as if her body’s been dipped in ice water.
Right away, Blair can tell he isn’t there. She walks through her condo room by room anyway. She notices Fiona’s suitcases are still there, stacked in the corner of her living room, though there’s no sign of Fiona, either. When she gets to the office, she discovers the air mattress was slept on. Blankets and pillows tossed around.
So he did come back here.
The office furniture he bought is still there, but his computers are both gone. And when she looks through the desk drawers, they’re all empty. He kept clothes in the office closet and those are gone, too.
She searches around for Mr. Maurice, but doesn’t see him anywhere. For a moment, she considers the possibility Nathan might have taken her cat with him, but then finds him hiding under her bed.
“There you are.”
Mr. Maurice comes out and lets her pet him as Blair tries to decide whether she should call Nathan again. She’s already tried three times this morning, but he’s not answering.
Finally, exhausted, she collapses onto her bed, and that’s when she notices it. His smoky scent. On the pillows, the duvet, everywhere.
God.
She sticks her face in the sheets, breathes in his smell. The hint of autumn leaves burning. Blair shivers, like a fever coming on, the worst one ever. Her heart aches, the pain so deep it spreads through her whole body. She closes her eyes and the tears flow.
Blair sleeps a lot. Cries a lot. Doesn’t have to be back at work until Tuesday, so she has two full days to sink further into this tarry blackness.
No one calls, so she figures no one knows yet. Blair doesn’t call anyone either, not even Tori, since she doesn’t want to put Tori in the middle. Wonders where Nathan went, if he’ll leave Seattle again now. She stopped trying to call him after the fifteenth time when she realized she was only calling so she could hear his voicemail say, “This is Nathan. Not available right now, call you back when I get a chance.”
I’m pitiful.
Mr. Maurice stays by her side, though his golden eyes are more accusing than sympathetic. Where is he? He wants to know. How could you let him go?
She doesn’t bathe, or load the dishwasher, or lift a finger to clean a single thing. Orders take-out Chinese food and leaves the empty containers sitting on the counter just like Fiona does. When she opens her cabinets and fridge, everything is out of alignment. A total mess.
Just like my life.
She thinks about her normal compulsive behavior and it all seems silly now. Who cares if the toaster is plugged in all night? If there’s a spoon mixed in with the forks?
None of that matters. Oddly, this heartbreak has given her perspective in a way she’s never had before.
Her only obsession now is with how she can make things right between her and Nathan. Round and round, she replays what happened years ago. I can’t change the past, though.
On Tuesday, Blair does something she’s never done in the entire time they’ve owned La Dolce Vita. She calls in sick.
“Are you all right?” Natalie wants to know. “You sound awful.”
“Nathan and I broke up. It’s over.”
“You broke up? I thought everything was going so well. He even passed the Bandito Test!”
“Yes, well . . . that’s all changed.”
Natalie tries to talk, but Blair tells her, “I have to go.”
After hanging up, she lies on the couch and tries to sleep some more, but can’t manage it. Instead, she turns on the TV. Flips channels. Stops when she sees The Razor’s Edge—her favorite version with Bill Murray. Despite being panned by critics, Blair always thought Bill Murray did a great job as Larry Darrell.
She watches Larry and Isabel, a box of tissues beside her, crying. In the end, Isabel doesn’t get Larry, but of course she doesn’t deserve him, either.
Is that my fate? Do I not deserve Nathan?
Unfortunately, she knows the answer.
As Blair blows her nose, contemplating whether she should eat another bowl of cereal from the endless supply crowding her cabinets, her intercom buzzes. Hearing a woman’s voice, it takes her a moment to realize Natalie is downstairs.
“You didn’t have to come over,” Blair says, letting her inside.
“Of course, I did.” Natalie looks around the condo and takes in the mess, but doesn’t say anything. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
Natalie frowns. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and Blair notices she’s thickening around the waist a little, obviously starting to show from her pregnancy.
“You don’t look fine.” Natalie’s eyes roam over her. “In fact, you look terrible.”
They go in the living room to sit on the couch, and Blair shoves the blankets she was using aside. She started sleeping out here after the first night. Nathan’s scent in her bed is too torturous. She could wash the sheets, but as perverse as it sounds, she doesn’t want to lose his scent, either.
“Can I get you anything?” Blair asks. “I think I could pull together a glass of water. There’s plenty of cereal.”
“I just want to know what on earth happened.”
Blair shakes her head, tries to smile, but can’t. “I did something bad.” And then she tells Natalie the whole story. Her deepest, darkest secret finally revealed.
“So, as you can see, I’m truly depraved,” Blair says, once she’s finished explaining it all.
“Give me a break. I agree, what you did was wrong, but you didn’t get pregnant all by yourself.”
Blair thinks about those words. “It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t lied. The whole marriage—all of it. I sometimes wonder if that’s why I miscarried.” Her throat tightens. “Like a punishment, you know?”
Natalie shakes her head, reaches over and takes Blair’s hand. “Those things just happen sometimes. You can’t blame yourself. Don’t go there.”
“Yeah,” Blair says softly, trying to stop herself from crying again.
“He shouldn’t punish you, either,” Natalie says, frowning. “None of us are perfect. And if he really loves you, hopefully he’ll realize that.”
Before leaving to go back to work, Natalie turns to her in the doorway. “Lindsay and I love you, and we’re only going to let you feel sorry for yourself so long. It’s not good to wallow, and as you know, I speak from experience.”
After she’s gone, Blair gets another bowl of cereal and sits in front of the television again. Mr. Maurice, who was outside on the deck, comes in and gives her a disdainful glare before going over to his food dish.
“I don’t care what you say,” she mutters to the cat. “I love him just as much as you do.”
By early evening, Blair falls asleep on the couch and her dreams are disjointed and strange. Dreams about Nathan, but then about a witch flying on a broomstick.
Ding Dong. Ding Dong.
The witch cackles, and her cackle sounds familiar. But what’s that noise?
Ding Dong. Ding Dong.
Finally, Blair wakes up sweaty, kicking the blanket aside, and realizes that noise is her doorbell. When she answers it, she’s surprised to discover Fiona and Sachi.
“What’s wrong with you?” Fiona studies her from head to toe. “Have you no shame? You look horrible.”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” Blair says.
“We’re sorry to barge in on you unannounced like this,” Sachi says, “but Fiona wanted to pick up her suitcases.”
“Sure, of course.” Blair motions behind her. “They’re stacked over there in the corner.”
By now, Fiona has pushed past her into the living room where she’s gaping at the mess. “Look at this place! Nathan forced me to pay half the cost of a cleaning crew, and they haven’
t even been here yet.”
Blair goes over and flops back down on the couch. “They’ve been here. They cleaned and left a few days ago.”
“What?” Fiona shrieks. “I’m demanding my money back! Where did Nathan even find these people? They must be the worse cleaners on Earth. I could do better than this!”
“It’s not them. They did a good job.” Blair sighs. “I created this mess.”
“You?” This stops Fiona cold. She doesn’t speak or move for a full two seconds, then immediately goes over to sit in the living room chair. “Talk to me.”
“Don’t you know what’s happened?” Blair asks. “Nathan hasn’t told you?”
Sachi comes over and takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch as Blair.
“Told me what?” Fiona’s blue eyes are rapt on Blair.
“We broke up.” Blair swallows. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Nathan’s moved out?” Fiona wants to know.
Blair nods. “His desk is still here, but everything else is gone.”
“What happened?”
Blair fidgets with the blanket on the couch. “It’s a long story.”
“I like long stories.” Fiona motions toward Sachi. “We both do.”
And so, against her better judgment, Blair tells them what happened between her and Nathan years ago. Ironically, after living with this deep dark secret for so long, she’s now blabbing it to everybody.
Including complete strangers.
She glances over at Sachi, who appears to be listening with sympathy, though Blair can only imagine what Sachi really thinks of her.
“My God, I’m gone for one week and this is what happens? See,” Fiona looks over at Sachi, “I told you something was wrong. Nathan sounded so strange on the phone.”
“So you’ve talked to him recently?” Blair asks.
Fiona nods. “Yes, but he never mentioned a word about this. Nothing! I could tell something was wrong, though.”
“Do you know where he’s staying?” Blair asks.
“No. Have you spoken to Tori? She might know.”
Blair feels a pang of guilt. “I haven’t talked to anybody, but I would have heard from Tori if he went there.”
“This is not good at all.” Fiona appears to be contemplating things. “We have to fix this.”
Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) Page 33