I hear soft footsteps, but I can’t look to see her face.
I hear her chirpy voice, “Good mo-” but she doesn’t continue, and when she talks again, her voice is upset. “I’ll leave.”
I should look at her face, I should explain what’s wrong and why I’m feeling like this, but I can’t. I should be grateful to her for providing me with some kind of comfort and friendship, for caring for me as all I ever seem to do is be an asshole to her, but instead, I walk toward the living room and grab my keys.
“I can call a cab.”
“I’ll drive,” I tell her without looking at her.
I’m a fucking douche!
She walks around the room to gather her things without talking to me, and that only makes me feel worse, but I don’t know what I can do when all I feel is this fucking regret weighing down on me like I did something bad, and it’s burning through my soul.
I promised April I would never forget her yet only weeks later my thoughts are occupied with someone else. I don’t deserve to be loved… especially not by a great woman like Acacia. She can do better than me. She deserves better.
She follows me to the car and gets in the passenger seat. She is the one who avoids eye-contact now. Her face is lined toward the window during the drive. The journey is packed with tension and sadness, all because of me. She doesn’t look at me once all the way back, I did that, and I hate it.
When I finally pull up in front of her apartment, I sigh heavily, “Acacia?” I whisper.
I see her wipe away tears from her eyes and curse myself more. I don’t expect her to look at me, but she does. I’m expecting to see that hard look on her face, but instead, when she turns her head, she looks at me with her beautiful blue eyes, now pooled with unshed tears full of sadness and sorrow.
“Thank you for everything,” she whispers, and before I can stop myself, I pull her toward me.
I wrapped my arms around her – it feels so natural, but the contradictory feelings inside me stop me doing more.
“I’m sorry, Acacia. I’m so sorry,” I choked.
Her hand reaches for my face, and she pets my beard like I’m the one who needs to be reassured or to be consoled.
“Take care of yourself,” she whispers and gets out of the truck without a second glance at me.
“Fuck!” I hit the steering wheel and take off onto the road.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Why didn’t she shout at me? Why didn’t she fight with me?
It would be so much easier for me to deal with her anger than her silent treatment. Her understanding hurts me more than her words or fists would do.
~*~
The cabin feels different without her somehow, she left her marks all over the place in just two days, and now they are haunting me. I didn’t know how lonely I used to feel before she came into my life. I didn’t know how the grief I felt was taking pieces away from my soul, but now I do.
I walked to the kitchen, deciding to prepare myself something to eat even though I don’t feel like it, but the message on the fridge stops me: Don’t…
Don’t what, April? Don’t forget you? Don’t hurt her? Don’t be an asshole?
I hit the cabinet with my fist because of the confusion, anger, and all the other emotions frustrating me. I go back to the living room and sit in front of the fireplace. Noticing the whiskey is still where I left it last night, I grabbed it and gulped down as much as I could. I enjoyed the burn as it lined my throat and slithered inside me.
I have to kill this asshole of a person that is living inside me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ACACIA
I stood at the lobby door of my apartment block and waited for the truck to drive off. It doesn’t pull off straight away, but I fight the urge to turn back for another glimpse of him. Instead, I ran up to the first floor, to my apartment, tears streaming down my face. I got through the front door picked up my mail from the floor and placed them on the table by the door.
While walked through the apartment I stripped my clothing off piece by piece - like stripping layers from my body because that’s how I feel.