But it was too late to go back. The floodgates were open, and the current was too strong to close them again.
Although maybe, just maybe, there was a way to slow things down.
The curse of him giving me what I wanted was that he still wasn’t being honest with me. I had no idea how he really felt, and that fact had me betraying myself and his wishes too. So I’d take a little space to buy a little perspective. It was time to take back an iota of control over myself — the helplessness I felt was overwhelming. It wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t good and happy and easy. It was sticky like flypaper, and I was stuck in it, trapped, immobilized.
I couldn’t deny I cared about Bodie. But maybe, if I took a minute to get myself right, I could come back to him fresh and ready and happy again.
Peggy whispered that I’d never go back because I was afraid. So I kicked her down the stairs and shut the cellar door. And then I picked up my phone, pulled up my messages, and texted Veronica two words.
BEAR TRAP.
Savage
The worst four words in the English language: Hit me up, Penny.
When she blew me off the next day, I told myself she was just busy.
When she didn’t call me for two days after that, I realized we had a much bigger problem.
My texts had been answered with single words and emojis. My calls had been sent to voice mail, followed by a one-off text that she was working, or out with Veronica or whatever the excuse du jour was. And the result was my absolute frustration.
So I kept busy with work and tried not to think about her. Which was, frankly, impossible.
That connection I’d come to depend on had been severed, and though I wanted to believe that she was just occupied, I knew she was putting space between us, separating from me. Leaving me. And I was alone and isolated and driving myself mad at the thought of losing her.
I tried to problem-solve, picking apart every interaction since the wedding to look for clues. If I’d done something wrong, I could fix it. If there was a way to salvage what we’d had, I would find it. Because I needed her, and I wasn’t ready to walk away. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.
Three days in, I realized I might not have a choice.
My options were few.
I could try to reach out while attempting not to pressure her, but what with her lack of reciprocation over the last few days, I’d already exhausted that avenue.
I could wait her out, give her space, try not to worry, and hope she came back — this was where I found myself.
Or I could let her go. I could write her off. Close the door. Move on.
But being an honest man, there was no way I could pretend like that was even a remote possibility.
Bring a Friend
The shop hummed that afternoon from the dozens of people waiting with Siamese Dream playing over the speakers and the buzzing of tattoo guns in the air.
I should have been happy. I should have been content and smiling and wonderful since I’d gotten everything I asked for in the form of sweet, quiet solitude.
I didn’t know who the fuck I thought I was kidding. I was miserable. I hated being alone I’d realized, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but there it was. I was never alone. Alone was when my crazy blossomed into full-blown insanity — the curse of being a talker. If I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t figure it out. Half the time I didn’t even know how I felt until I said it out loud, and right now, I had no one. Ramona was on her honeymoon getting banged senseless. Veronica was busy doing God knew what.
Trust me, I knew I should have answered Bodie’s texts, called him back, and it was exactly what I wanted to do. But I was working hard to spare us both from having to deal with my psychosis. My solitary confinement was an attempt to decontaminate, an attempt to get my bearings so I could find my way back to him.
Problem was, my grand plan had backfired — the distance had made the crazy worse.
I’d made up an excuse not to see him that next day, once I’d gathered my wits and stopped trying to force my way into his apartment. I’d decided to take one day to think and separate and unscramble my brain. So I’d stripped and dyed my hair — this time, a pastel blue. I’d painted my nails. I’d taken a bubble bath and read an entire book. I’d cleaned my room. And the whole time, the whole fucking time, I had thought about Bodie and how much I’d rather be with him than at home.