to stop ringing.
“Fuck you,” I said. But my heart throbbed. I wanted to hear his voice so badly.
What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was calling to apologize? What if he’d realized we deserved a chance?
I grabbed the phone. Whoa. Stay calm. Summoning Old Margot, I took a breath and accepted the call.
“Hello.”
“Hey.” His voice cracked, and so did some of my composure. “How are you?”
Be strong. No tears tonight. “Fine,” I said coolly.
“That’s good.”
Silence. My patience wore thin. “What do you want, Jack?”
“Just to hear you.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed. So this wasn’t an apology call. Damn him! “Why? To torture yourself?”
“I guess.”
“I’m not playing these games, Jack.” My voice wavered. “If you want to wallow in your own pain, you go right ahead, but I will not contribute to it. It hurts me too much.”
“I’m sorry, Margot. I never meant to hurt you. I want so fucking badly to be someone else right now.”
I bit my lip so hard I expected to taste blood. “I wouldn’t want anyone else! How can you not see that?”
“You say that now, but you don’t know what it’s like to be with me.” His voice was stronger. Angry, even.
“Because you won’t show me! You’re a coward! I don’t even know what it is you’re so afraid of! All I know is that you’re throwing away the chance to be happy, and you’re taking it away from me.”
“I’m sparing you!” he blurted.
“You’re sparing yourself! It’s going to take work to move on, Jack. I know that. And I know it wouldn’t be easy.” I softened my voice. “But I’d be there for you. Don’t you want to try?”
Silence. “You’d never be happy with me.”
I took a breath and put my heart out there one more time, praying he didn’t crush it. “Give me the chance to prove you wrong, Jack. I won’t ask again.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I want to, but I fucking can’t.”
I lost the battle not to cry, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “Then say goodbye, because this is all we will ever be.”
“Margot, please—”
“Hang up!” I yelled. “I want it very clear that it’s you who’s walking away, Jack. It’s you who thinks you couldn’t love me.”
“I know I could love you,” he said without hesitation, his voice full of anguish. “I just don’t deserve to.”
I steadied myself. Willed myself to stay calm. “Then say goodbye, and hang up.”
I held my breath, hanging on to one tiny thread of hope that he’d say something—anything—other than goodbye.
But he didn’t.
Jack
Margot’s words cut deep. The truth always does.
You’re a coward.
You’re sparing yourself.
You’re throwing away the chance to be happy.
I was a coward. And a fool. And an asshole. I knew calling her a second time was the wrong thing to do, but I was so damn lonely and depressed, I couldn’t think straight. I hurt, and I wanted to feel better—she was the only one who could make it better, so I called her.
The logic of a fucking child.
I didn’t blame her for getting angry or calling me names. Some part of my brain probably hoped that she would, I was so fucked up. And I was mad as hell at myself. What right did I have to call her, say those things to her, hurt her all over again? I’d only thought about my pain. But hers was real, too. I could hear it in her voice. I’d told myself a thousand times over the last few days that my agony was the price I had to pay for letting her get close, but what about the price she was paying? It killed me to think that she was half as miserable as I was. Did she really think I was walking away because I couldn’t love her? It was exactly the opposite!
I lay back on my bed and covered my face with my hands. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t live like this, torn between the past and the future, between two lives, between two selves.
It was like standing at a fork in the road—one path went nowhere, simply circled back upon itself in a never-ending spiral of solitude and sameness. The other went forward, and while I couldn’t see what was at the end of that road, I knew it offered the possibility of being happy again.
But what would it take for me to feel I deserved a second chance?
A few nights later, Georgia invited me to dinner at the house.