Wasted Words (35 page)

I huffed, exasperated. “That’s exactly why I wanted her. I’ve been dating in the wrong pool. You know, Cam says we’re too different, but look at me and Jess. She didn’t like football at all — we didn’t have a single thing in common. Or how about me and Gretchen? She went to college to find a husband, not a bachelor’s degree, and at the end of the day, she didn’t want
me
. Not as I am. She wanted what I stood for, some cardboard idea of a boyfriend. It’s the same story for every woman I’ve dated, even back to high school. They didn’t want me, but Cam does. Did. She’s real. She’s beautiful and perfect, even with her flaws.”

He nodded. “Well, I can’t really argue with that, can I?”

I shook my head. “I feel like I’ve been defending my feelings to everyone. To you. To Cam. To Kyle.”

He chuffed. “Kyle’s an idiot. Don’t defend yourself to a fool, son.”

My jaw flexed, my thoughts still rambling. “It’s so frustrating. I feel like no one understands or believes me. I don’t get everyone’s problem with Cam. She made me happier in a week than every woman I’ve dated combined, and yet somehow I’m still sticking up for myself. I feel like I’m in it all alone.”

His face softened, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not opposed, don’t get me wrong. I said I was surprised, but it’s a pleasant surprise, especially hearing you talk about her like this.”

I slumped in my seat. “I just want everyone to believe in us the way I do. Especially Cam.”

“We do. And I want to believe she’ll come around, if for nothing more than your happiness. I wish I could give you some advice, but it’s been damn near thirty years since I dated anyone besides your mom. All I can say is that you’ve got to keep on believing. Don’t give up on her.”

“What do I do, Dad?” The words were thin, defeated.

“Well, like you said. You can’t make her drink. So you’ve got to try to be patient. Give her time and space to sort through how she feels and what she wants. You’re at the finish line, but she’s struggling at the halfway mark, so go back and run with her. Cheer her on. Get her there.”

I nodded, heart aching.

“Tell me what Kyle did.”

The ache turned into an angry burn. “Nothing but piss me off. He’s so against the idea of me and Cam that he’s got nothing to say that I want to hear on the matter. I don’t understand why he cares, why he’s so invested in my love life.”

He sighed. “Kyle got caught up in the machine. He used to be a good kid, one of the best, but I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. He’s always been too concerned with what everybody thinks.” He took a sip of his beer. “I shouldn’t badmouth him after he just paid for our uniform redesign.”

I raised a brow.
 

“Yeah, I know. I was surprised too. He didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head.

“We’re unveiling them tomorrow — he’s coming to be recognized during halftime.”

I frowned at the thought that he’d be there, but Dad kept talking.
 

“Anyway, you know, the two of you were thick as thieves when you played together, and when you got hurt, he stepped up. But I don’t think he quite knew what to do with himself. He thought you’d always be on the level, and when you weren’t … well, I think this is his way of trying to bridge the gap. Turn you into a version of him so the two of you don’t feel so different. I suspect he misses you.”

“I miss him too, but the Kyle I miss doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t even know him now, and I refuse to be berated by him for who I choose to love.”

“And that’s fair. There’s no rule that says you have to.”

I took a sip of my beer. “I’m not looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. We got in a fight last week about Cam, and I haven’t talked to him since.”

“I suspect it won’t be pleasant. But maybe he’ll leave it alone and stay away.”

We looked at each other and shook our heads. “It’s a nice thought,” I added. “Maybe not impossible though. He was smart enough to leave us alone last night.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. You meeting with Darryl tomorrow?”

“After the game for a bit, yeah, and during the game we’ll see each other, since I’ll be on the field. We’re working out on Sunday still, right?”

He nodded, smirking. “It’ll be nice to whip you on the field again.”

I chuckled. “Just like old times.”

He watched me for a moment. “How’ve you been feeling?”

I knew what he meant without any specifics. “Fine, you know. The usual. I love and loathe football season. Easier to watch it on TV, anyway.”

“I’d like to say that gets easier, but I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t imagine the loss, even though I’ve tried a million times. The day you were injured, it changed all of our lives.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. “
I know.”

His eyes were full of understanding and pain. “All we’ve ever wanted is your happiness, son.”

“I know that, too.”

He sighed and looked down at his hands. “I know you already know all this, but I’m proud of you for picking up and moving on. You’ve never buckled. You never gave up. You fought and smiled your way through the pain in a way I don’t know I could have done, if it had been me. And I’ve prayed it had been. I’d trade places with you in a second.”

I nodded, unable to speak.
 

“Are you happy, Tyler? That’s all I need to know.”

“I am, Dad. I’m happy. The past would have swallowed me up, if I’d let it, and I knew that. There’s no point in looking backward. No good can come of wishing for things we can’t have. All I can do is keep going, one foot in front of the other, toward the things I can have. Go after them with all the passion I put into everything I want.”

“I support that, fully and wholly. Is Cam a part of that philosophy?”

I spun my bottle around slowly, eyes on the label. “I’m hurt. She hurt me. But …” I pulled in a shaky breath and let it out.“I think I love her, Dad.” My heart stopped at the words, at the realization as it dawned on me.
 

He nodded. “I think you do too. And if you love her, you have to go after her.”

And he was right. Cam wanted me, that much I knew for certain. I wasn’t wishing for something I couldn’t have. I could have her, but it wouldn’t be easy.
 

It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

Cam

I WOKE SLOWLY, SLIPPING OUT of the dream world a little more with every breath. The day was gray and dreary, my room darker than it should have been. Rain pattered against my window, the cold pressing in from outside.
 

I felt it all the way in my lonely bed.

I’d tossed and turned most of the night, waking to roll over and reach for him, but he was gone.
 

He’d be gone anyway,
I told myself, which was true. But the loneliness wasn’t the same. This loneliness was hopeless and complete.

I lay there for a long time, listening to the rain, the occasional rumble of thunder somewhere off in the distance, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking about me, missing me the way I missed him.

I felt like I’d made a horrible mistake, sabotaging us like I had. I wondered if it would be better for us in the long run. Maybe hurting him now would save him later. Maybe I’d save myself. Maybe it was the right thing for both of us.

But it felt wrong, so wrong that I didn’t even want to move — the pain was too acute.

I didn’t know what time it was when I crawled out of bed, wrapped in my comforter. I found the rest of the cupcakes in the kitchen and took the box to the couch with me before turning on the TV.

It was college game day, a day I usually spent with Tyler, and I flipped through the games, needing something familiar, hoping it would help. And for a while, it did.
 

The Iowa game was on — they were playing Nebraska, and I turned off the sound and turned on music, feeling like if I couldn’t hear the chatter of the sportscasters it would make it easier. So I put on Warpaint again and ate cupcakes in the dark apartment, the flicker of the screen nearly the only light to speak of.

My second cupcake was nearly gone, the sugary sweetness barely breaking through my senses, when I saw him.
 

Tyler stood on the sidelines in Nebraska gear, a red windbreaker and khakis, red cap flipped backward, nodding and smiling as he talked to a couple of players with a clipboard in his hand. He looked happy, strong, his shoulders broad, legs long. But it was his smile that gutted me.
 

It was only a second. Just a moment of his face, and I was lost again.

Tears welled as I scrambled for the remote and turned off the TV, sitting in the dark, sobbing quietly as the ghostly voice sang to me about what was gone forever.

Right and wrong. Yes and no. Joy and pain.
 

I’d lost him. I had him, and I lost him because I was afraid.

I wiped my tears, needing to get out of the house. So I clicked on the lamp, pulled myself off the couch and walked into my room. Pulled on rain boots and a coat. Grabbed my keys and walked out the door.

I flipped up the broad hood of my coat and stuffed my hands in my pockets, not sure where I was even going. If it hadn’t been dreary and rainy, I would have walked through the park, but I was glad for the rain, glad for the low hanging clouds that hid the tops of the buildings. I looked up at them, knowing that on the other side, the sun shone, unaffected, as if life really existed up there and not down here. Like I was underwater, and the surface was too far away to reach.

I headed for the subway, descending the stairs as I put in my earbuds and walked through the turnstile, all to the same album I’d been listening to on repeat. I always did that — listen to them over and over again until I was almost afraid to turn them off, afraid to lose the feeling the music gave me. This one in particular I’d played until I knew every single note, every beat, every word, and the whole of it made up the sum of me as I stepped into the metal train, heading for Wasted Words.

I didn’t have anywhere else to go. At least there was alcohol there. And Rose. I could really use some Rose.

The train rattled and clattered down the track, though I was lost in thought, even as I reached my stop and made my way out, ducking my head against the rain once it found me again. Before long, I was standing in front of the store, my home away from home, pulling the door open.

I flipped back my hood and took out my earbuds, stowing them in my pocket. Rose was behind the bar, and her brow rose as I approached.
 

She frowned as I took off my jacket and sat down, feeling flat and dead.

“Whiskey?”

“Whiskey.”

She nodded and poured me a drink, watching me inconspicuously. “Want to talk about it?”

I didn’t say anything.
 

She handed me the drink, and I took it, sipping it gratefully. “We got in a fight. A bad fight. And now he’s gone.”

“Oh, Cam,” she said softly.

I shook my head and shrugged. “It went so much worse than I thought it would. He said he didn’t want to talk about it again. That if I didn’t get it, there was nothing else to say.”

She frowned again, and this time her whole face joined in.
 

I shrugged again and took another drink, wincing against the bitter rye.

“So you didn’t talk to him about what’s holding you back?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want to hear it. Our relationship was already so fragile, and I blew it up. I think it’s over, Rose.” My nose burned as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

“Just like that? I mean, it’s not like he can avoid talking to you about it. You live together.”

“This whole time I was worried about me getting hurt, and I didn’t spend nearly enough time worrying about how he felt, what he wanted. I’ve been selfish. I’ve betrayed his trust by worrying he would betray mine.”

She didn’t have anything to say, just waited for me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say to him or you or anyone. He’s hurt because I took it too far.” I sighed. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

Rose’s lips were tight. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? He’s better off without me, I’ve been saying that this whole time. This way we can just move on.”

“You really think you’re going to just pick up and move on from
Tyler
?”

I shrugged, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Come on, Cam. You’re smarter than this.”

I didn’t respond.

She fumed. “I’m not kidding. You guys breaking up isn’t better for either one of you.”

“How so? Because he was right. I was on the fence the whole time, and that’s not his fault. I’m too fucked up to be with him, that much is painfully clear.”

 
“I’m through being cute with you about this. Look at you. You’re fucking miserable. You think you’re doing anyone any favors with some bullshit self-sacrifice? You think you’re saving yourself? Or saving him? Because that’s absolute horse shit.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and banged out a text. “You’re talking to Patrick.”

I made a face. “Why?”

She gave me a pointed look. “Because he’s been an idiot before too, and you need to hear the truth from somebody as stupid as you are.” Her phone buzzed. “Good. He’s on his way. You just sit there and get a little drunk while we wait for the cavalry.”

“I don’t need a talking-to. I’m not a child, Rose.”

“Really?” she said, hands on her hips and brows high. “Because you sure are acting like one. Your dream guy is all about you, and you pushed him away because you think he’s better than you. That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever fucking heard in my life. You speak like a thousand languages and have an IQ that puts you somewhere in the borderline genius category of humanity, and yet here you are, giving up. You shot yourself in the foot because you’re afraid.”

“I know I did, but that’s just how I feel, Rose. Like I don’t fit in. I don’t always know my place around him, not like here. Not like over there.” I motioned to the comic side of the store. “Why do you think I worked at a comic store all that time? Sure, I could have gotten a ‘real’ job pushing papers and filing reports and who even knows what, but I don’t fit in there either. I want to feel like I belong, just like anybody. So I worked at the comic shop because I didn’t feel weird or different. I could be me, and that was enough.” The words left me too quickly, too honestly, with my heart banging and cheeks flushed.