Truthfully, I do get along with my mom, I’m just feeling salty.
I’m definitely salty. At Tyson. At my situation. Sour at myself for going to that cabin with Megan and getting myself into this mess. But I love my family and I feel guilty for my negative thoughts. That’s me. I get angry and immediately feel remorse for any thoughts associated with the anger.
Like me and Tyson. I feel bad for calling him names, even though he might have needed something harsh to give him a wake-up call. Maybe.
Ben and I weren’t compatible, but the idea that Tyson would physically harm him? That’s just… awful. And that he insists I’m staying when I tell him I need to go… that’s just bonkers. As if I’m going to stay with someone against my will!
Ben and me had a bit of a strange relationship, so I wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere serious. It wasn’t even a ‘given’ that we’d spend every weekend together. He had a busy job, lots of hobbies, and was sort of emotionally unavailable. But that was okay, because it wasn’t like I was head over heels either.
My sister took it upon herself to ask her guy, Rick, to ask him to be in the wedding without discussing it with me. She wanted nice pictures and matched up couples and because of that, she’s got a wedding party with eighteen people in it and they’re all couples. Even my little brother and his girlfriend, who he told me he’s sick of being in a long-distance relationship with. I’m fairly sure their breakup will happen after Amelia’s wedding, because Leo doesn’t wanna rock the boat and court our big sister’s ire.
Why didn’t she ask me if Ben and I were solid first? I’d have told her that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere and that, in fact, I was looking for an opening to end it and that’s what I did, after he’d been away for three weeks on business and I realized I didn’t miss him while he was gone.
Why would she want someone in her wedding pictures that she’d later struggle to remember the name of?
Amelia would pick me up, too, if I called, but I’m not about to call her because all she is about is her wedding. I think her wedding is more important to her than her actual marriage. Seriously. She’s going to be depressed when it’s over, because then what will she do with herself?
And as much as I know I need to go and get back to my life, I’m not going to be in the mood for any trivial conversations on the way back to regular life because I already know it’s going to emotionally wring me out to go back to life and contemplate this time I’ve spent here, this man I’ve spent time with.
I go back inside and tidy up a bit more, then decide I should really go. He could be back any minute.
I stand there for what feels like too long, biting my lip, pondering it all.
Finally, I grab my iPad from the kitchen counter where I’ve been charging it and stuff it into my bag with the rest of my things. I charged it so that if I get to town, I can try to hop on someone’s Wi-fi and use one of my apps to get ahold of somebody to come get me.
I have all my stuff and I’m holding the doorknob. I take in the space one more time.
Time to go. Time to go before he’s back. I know it’ll be a long walk and there’s a chance he’ll see me, but I have a half-baked plan for dealing with it.
And then images assault my mind. Images of us together, me and Tyson. Memories play on a reel in my mind of us and there are so many more that will stay with me in the span of this short time with him than there were of me and Ben after a few months.
My heart is in my throat. I feel so conflicted.
But, I have to go. That’s all there is to it.
I reach into my bag and grab my little notepad and a pink gel pen to leave him a note.
Five minutes later, I pass by his heap of clothing and shoes near the other side of the big willow tree. He’s out there somewhere as a wolf. I have no idea what the strange Tyson-scented mist is, but I’m able to walk through it with no apparent ill-effects, so that’s something.
I stumble after a few steps feeling a bit of strange vertigo and then I set off on my journey to Drowsy Hollow, which will likely take a couple hours. Maybe I should’ve eaten more than a banana. Whatever. Onwards…
I don’t let myself look back over my shoulder at that pretty little Hansel and Gretel house. I just… can’t. Because if I do, I might turn around and go right back.