“Long day?”
“You could say that. The new job is…” She trailed off and shook her head, and the smile vanished. “We’re not here to talk about me or my job. We’re here to talk about you. And I need to lay some ground rules before we get started.”
I motioned with one hand to suggest she had the floor.
She sat up a little straighter, almost rigid, and lifted her chin. “This is your last chance, Jake. And you’d better not blow it. I’m not going to entertain your moods and outbursts where you use me as something you can scream at when things don’t go your way.”
Ouch. Tough but fair.
She continued. “All I wanted that day when I came to your house was to make sure you were okay and to be there for you if you weren’t. I sat at the office, concerned that you were late—because you’re never late—thinking something had happened to you and that you were in the hospital or something after that fight. I had no information to go on, and I… well, I cared about you. After what we shared that night, I was invested. You were more to me than a boss. I wanted—no, I needed—to make sure you weren’t hurt. That’s why I came to your house. I wasn’t trying to provoke you.”
Her brows drew together as if remembering all of this pained her. It certainly pained me.
“You don’t have to let me all the way in, Jake. That was never my expectation of you. But you can’t dangle carrots in front of me, kiss me, fuck me, and make me think there could be something between us before ripping the rug out from under me and going right back to your old ways. You hurt me so badly, Jake.”
Fuck.
She ran her hands down her thighs and sighed. “I didn’t realize I had so much to say.”
I collected my thoughts before I spoke. “I’m glad you said it. You’re right, and I understand now. I have this bad habit of making assumptions about people’s behaviors and actions. When you showed up at my house, I was already triggered, and I was drunk, and seeing that picture brought me to a place where the worst version of myself resides. I took out all my anger and resentment on you because you were there, not because you deserved it. And I’m sorry, Gabi. I’ve been so sorry all month and I knew there was nothing I could say or do to make it better. I ruined a good thing. A really good thing. And I know I hurt you. I regret it, deeply.”
She searched my eyes. “Thank you.”
Now the hard part. My counselor and I had discussed making reparations and being vulnerable with people who had been vulnerable with me. Gabi had given me so much more than I’d given her. She deserved to understand me.
She deserved to be let in.
“I’d like to tell you a bit about where I come from, if you’d like to hear,” I said.
Her eyebrows lifted, and her guarded expression softened. “Really?”
I nodded.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “You don’t have to, Jake. I know you have a lot of demons in your past. If you’re not ready to share them, I won’t push you.”
Bless her heart.
“I want to,” I said before correcting myself. “I need to.”
“Okay.”
Here goes nothing.
“My dad fucked me up,” I said. I didn’t know how else to put it. But that was it, plain and simple, no sugar-coating, no trying to make it more palatable, no extra words to muddle it all up.
“I don’t think I accepted quite how much damage he’d done until I met you and you challenged me. You made me want to be better. And when I couldn’t be better,” I paused before pushing myself to keep going, “you gave me a reason to try new strategies. So, I reached out to a counselor and I’m starting to slowly work through exactly how much control I still let my old man have over me. It wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. For a decade, I’ve convinced myself that I’d cut ties with him and he has no hold over me anymore, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m still so angry. So damn angry. But I’m trying to work through it, and I owe you for that. I never would have taken steps to make this change if not for you. For hurting you,” I added.
Gabi didn’t say anything. She stared at me, her eyes giving away all her emotions. Empathy, compassion, sympathy, hurt, regret, understanding.
And no pity.
I could have kissed her for that.
“If not for you,” I continued, “I’d have stayed up in my office tower and let my own thoughts eat away at me until I was just an empty shell of a man, just like my father. You were good for me, Gabi. And I regret that I couldn’t be good for you, too.”
She looked down at her coffee. Still, she didn’t speak. I knew this was a lot to dump on her all at once. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to say anything.
I needed to end on a lighter note.
So, I smiled. “Thank you for the push. I needed it. And I hope your new job is a good fit and that they recognize the incredible person they have right in front of them before it’s too late. You are incredible, Gabi. I hope you know that.”
Her eyes lifted to me, worldly and bright, and she deflated like a balloon. “I hate my new job.”