even when she was more important than anything in the world, I took her for granted.
Leyla gave you so many chances, but you didn’t notice her. Your priorities were fucked. You didn’t stop being cruel until you saw her broken and thought it was easier to push her away. You could’ve told her about the vasectomy, but you hoped that her determination would wear off.
She wanted to learn more about me, but I never let her fully in because what if she left. But I’m the one who left her long before we said it out loud.
These are some of the things I have been telling myself almost every day for the past couple of weeks. I’m not sure what I want to do with what I know or about my future, or how to convince her to stay with me.
When we arrive at the house, the trailers are just pulling close to the gate, and the construction crew is already inside.
“This is bigger than our land,” Leyla says, taking a deep breath. “It’s beautiful.”
When I park, I point toward the lake. “Hayes taught us to fish during the summers we came by. We used to challenge each other on who’ll be climbing the tallest tree. Mills and Vance always won.”
“You liked it here,” she concludes.
“The answer to the question wouldn’t make sense,” I sigh.
She blows out a long breath. “I wish for once you wouldn’t stop mid-thought, mid-sentence, or mid-conversation. It’s pretty taxing,” she complains. “It feels as if you’re going to give me a precious gift, and then you take it away because I’m not deserving of it.”
The way she says it tears at me a little. To learn that every little fucking thing I have done has hurt her upsets me on her behalf. I want to ask Vance to punch the shit out of me for inflicting so much pain on the one person I swore I’d never hurt. And where does this leave us now?
“You’re deserving,” I state. “I just don’t think it’s important or transcendental. My terrible behavior has nothing to do with you and a lot to do with how I was raised. My feelings never mattered. My experiences, what happened here, my friends…I just learned to keep everything to myself. The little I’ve shared with you is as much as I’ve shared with anyone in my life.”
Her eyes open wide.
“Exactly,” I tell her. “That’s pathetic. It really wasn’t you but me. So, to explain further, I liked to come here. It was perfect during those Sundays when I arrived. I hated it the next Sunday when I had to leave because I would not see my brothers for another year. I didn’t like the funny feeling in my stomach when I got home because my mom would be upset that I spent one week away from her. She’d be nicer to my cousins for days, if not weeks. I worked hard to make her happy again. Every year, that week was bittersweet for me.”
She frowns, touches my hand, and smiles. “I’m sorry she treated you like that. Hopefully this place will help you heal.”
Her words are beautiful and tragic all at once. This woman is imperfect, and she recognizes it, but everything inside of her is pure and healing. Now that I’m about to lose her, I have come to learn that she’s a priceless gift, and I wasted most of my time with her. She could’ve helped me grow into someone better, but I didn’t allow her to do it because I couldn’t see beyond the greed and resentment that was built around my heart. What’s going to happen to us?
“This is a long shot, but while you stay here, we should find a way to become friends,” I propose.
“Friends?”
I nod. “Yes. We’ve been many things, but we were never friends.” Then I laugh, “We barely know each other.”
She smiles and nods. “In a way, I know you too well, but you’re right. We have never been friends.”
“So, what do you say, Leyla Gaumont, would you like to be my friend?”
“I do, big guy,” she answers, and I grin because it’s been so long since the last time she called me that. “Just know that our friendship won’t get you off the hook, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not doing it to get off your shit list,” I argue. “I understand that you’re working on your anger and that one day you’ll leave.”
My words are almost shaky. This conversation is