After We Collided (The After Series) (50 page)

He eyes me. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, I am. Thank you so much. Landon’s here, and I’ll be going to his parents’ place tonight.”

Zed nods in agreement—
like he gets enough of a say to agree to anything!
—then turns and leaves. Tessa closes the door behind him.

I can’t control my anger as Tessa turns to me with a scowl on her face. “I’m getting my clothes.” She walks into the bedroom.

I follow her, of course.

“Why did you call him for a ride?” I shout behind her.

“Why did you go drinking with this Carly girl? Oh, wait, you were probably complaining how
needy
and
full of expectations
your girlfriend is,” she snaps.

“Oh, let me guess how quick you were to unload to Zed about how fucked up I am,” I growl back at her.

“No! I didn’t tell him anything, actually. I’m sure he already knows it.”

“Are you going to let me explain my side of this?” I ask her.

“Sure,” she remarks, attempting to pull her suitcase from the top shelf in the closet. I move to help her.

“Move,” she snaps, obviously out of patience with my bullshit.

I step back and let her get the case down. “I shouldn’t have left last night,” I tell her.

“Really?”
she sarcastically says.

“Yes, really. I shouldn’t have left and I shouldn’t have drunk so much—but I didn’t cheat on you. I wouldn’t do that. I only slept at her house because I was too drunk to drive—that’s it,” I explain.

She crosses her arms and gets that classic mad-girlfriend pose. “Then why lie?”

“I don’t know . . . because I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Well, cheaters usually don’t admit when they cheat.”

“I didn’t cheat on you,” I tell her. She sighs, obviously not convinced.

“It’s really hard to believe you when you blatantly lie all the time. This time isn’t any different.”

“I know. I’m sorry for lying before, about everything, but I wouldn’t cheat on you.” I put my arms in the air.

She neatly places a folded shirt in her suitcase. “Like I said, cheaters don’t admit they cheated. If you didn’t have anything to hide, you wouldn’t have lied.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I didn’t do anything with her,” I say, defending myself as she adds another article of clothing.

“So what if I got wasted and stayed the night at Zed’s house? What would you do?” she asks me, and the thought nearly sends me over the edge.

“I’d fucking kill him.”

“So it’s not a big deal when you do it, only if it were me?” She calls me out on my double standard. “None of this even matters—you made it clear that I’m only temporary in your life,” Tessa says. She walks out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall to get her toiletries. She really is going with Landon to my father’s house. This is bullshit. She isn’t temporary to me, how could she even think that? Probably because of all the shit I said to her last night and my lack of words today.

“You know I’m not going to let this go,” I tell her when she zips her suitcase.

“Well, I’m leaving.”

“Why? You know you’ll be back.” My anger speaks for me.

“That’s exactly why I’m leaving,” she says, her voice shaky as she grabs her suitcase and leaves the room without looking back.

When I hear the front door slam shut, I lean my back against the wall and slide to the floor.

N
ine days. Nine days have gone by without a single word from Hardin. I didn’t think it was possible for me to go a single day without speaking to him, let alone nine. It feels like one hundred, honestly, though each hour does hurt microscopically less than the prior one. It hasn’t been easy, not even close to that. Ken made a call to Mr. Vance asking that I be allowed to take the rest of the week off, which only meant missing one day anyway.

I know I’m the one who left, the one who walked away, but it kills me that he hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me. I have always given more in the relationship, and this was his chance to show me how he truly feels. I guess in a way he’s showing me—it’s just that what he feels is the opposite of what I had desperately wanted. Needed.

I know that Hardin loves me, I do. However, I also know that if he loves me as much as I thought he did, he would have made it a point to show me by now. He said he wasn’t going to let this go, but he did. He let it go, and he let me go. The part that scares me the most is that the first week I was walking around completely lost. I was lost without Hardin. Lost without his witty comments. Lost without his crude remarks. Lost without his assurance and his confidence. Lost without the way he’d sometimes draw circles on my hand while holding it between his, the way he’d kiss me for no reason and smile at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I don’t want to be lost without him; I want to be strong. I want my days and nights to be just the same whether
I’m alone or not. I’m beginning to suspect I may always be alone, as dramatic as the thought seems; I wasn’t happy with Noah, yet Hardin and I didn’t work. Maybe I’m like my mother in that way. Maybe I’m better off alone.

I didn’t want it to be over this way, so cut-and-dried. I wanted to talk about everything, I wanted him to answer my calls so we could come to some sort of agreement. I just needed space, I needed a break from him to show him that I’m not his doormat. It backfired on me because he obviously doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. Maybe this was his plan all along: get me to break up with him. I’ve known a few girls who go that route when leaving their boyfriends.

During the first day I did expect a call, text, or hell, I really expected Hardin to come bursting through the door screaming at the top of his lungs and causing a scene while his family and I sat in the dining room in silence, no one quite sure what to say to me. When that didn’t happen, I lost it. Not crying-in-the-corner, feeling-sorry-for-myself lost it. I mean I lost myself. Every second I lived in anticipation of Hardin coming back to grovel for my forgiveness. I almost gave in that day. I almost went back to the apartment. I was ready to tell him to hell with marriage, I don’t care if he lies to me every day and doesn’t respect me, as long as he never leaves me. Thankfully, I snapped out of that and salvaged some respect for myself.

Day three was the worst. Day three was when the realization really began to hit me. Day three was when I finally spoke after three days of near silence, having only muttered a simple yes or no to Landon or Karen during their awkward attempts to engage me in conversation. The only sounds that actually came out were a strangled sob and a choppy explanation through tears of why my life would be better, easier, without him that even I didn’t believe. Day three was when I finally looked in the mirror at my dirty and bruised face, my eyes swollen to the point of barely opening. Day
three was when I fell to the floor, finally praying to God to make the pain disappear. No one can handle this pain, I told Him. Not even me. Day three I called him, I couldn’t help myself. I told myself that if he answers we would work it out and both come to a compromise, apologizing profusely and promising to never leave each other again. Instead, I got his voicemail after two rings, proving that he rejected the call.

Day four, I slipped and called him again. This time he had the courtesy to let it ring to voicemail instead of pressing ignore. Day four was when I realized how much more I actually care for him than he does me. Day four was when I spent the entire day in bed reliving the few times he actually told me how he felt about me. I began to realize that most of our relationship and how I portrayed his feelings for me in my mind was just that . . . in my mind. I began to realize that while I was thinking we could do this, we could make this work forever, he wasn’t thinking about me at all.

That was the day I decide to join the ranks of normal teenagers and had Landon show me how to download music onto my phone. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Over one hundred songs were added, and headphones were put in my ears and barely removed for almost twenty-four hours. The music helps a lot. To hear about other people’s pain reminds me that I’m not the only one to suffer in life. I’m not the only one who loved someone who didn’t love them enough to fight for them.

Day five was when I finally showered and attempted to go to class. I went to yoga, hoping that I could handle the memories it would evoke. I felt strange walking around in a sea of cheery college students. I used all the energy I had in hoping that I wouldn’t run into Hardin on campus. I was past the stage of wanting him to call. I managed to drink half of my coffee that morning, and Landon told me that the color was coming back into my cheeks. No one seemed to notice me, and that was exactly what I wanted.
Professor Soto assigned us to write down our biggest fears when it comes to life and how they relate to faith and God. “Are you afraid to die?” he asked us.
Aren’t I already dead?
I answered silently.

Day six was a Tuesday. I began to speak in sentences, broken sentences that usually didn’t relate to the subject at hand, but no one had the heart to call me out on it. I returned to Vance. Kimberly couldn’t meet my eyes for the first part of the day, but she finally attempted to have a conversation, which I couldn’t bring myself to participate in. She mentioned a dinner, and I reminded myself to ask her again when I can think straight. The day was spent staring at the first page of a manuscript that, no matter how many times I read and reread it, wouldn’t soak in. I ate that day, more than just the rice or a banana I had in the days before. Karen made a ham—I only noticed because it reminded me that she made one for the dinner Hardin and I had here in the beginning. The images from that night, the picture of him sitting next to me and holding my hand under the table, sent me back into my tragic state, making me spend the night in the bathroom vomiting up the small bit of food I had consumed.

As day seven dragged on I began to imagine what would happen if I didn’t have to feel this pain anymore. What if I just disappeared? The thought terrified me—not because of my death, but because my mind was capable of going to such a dark place. That thought snapped me out of my downward spiral and brought me to the closest thing to reality my mind can handle. I changed my shirt and vowed to never step foot in Hardin’s bedroom again, no matter what happened. I began to look up apartments that I could afford close to Vance, and online classes at WCU. I enjoy academics too much to close myself off and take online classes, so I ultimately decided against it, but I found a few apartments to look into.

Day eight I smiled, briefly, but everyone noticed. Day eight was the first morning that I grabbed my usual donut and coffee when I arrived at Vance. I kept it down and even went back for more. I saw Trevor, who told me I looked beautiful despite my wrinkled clothes and hollow eyes. Day eight was the shift, day eight was the first day that only half of my time was spent wishing that things had gone differently between Hardin and me. I heard Ken and Karen discussing Hardin’s birthday in a few days, and I was surprised to only feel a slight burn in my chest at the sound of his name.

Day nine is today.

“I’ll be downstairs!” Landon calls through the door of “my” bedroom.

No one has even mentioned me leaving, or where I would go if I did. I’m grateful for it, but at the same time I know my presence will eventually be a burden. Landon keeps assuring me that I can stay as long as I need to, and Karen reminds me how much she enjoys my company multiple times a day. But at the end of the day, they’re Hardin’s family. I want to make a move forward, decide where I should go and where I should live, and I’m no longer afraid.

I cannot, and refuse to, spend another day crying over a dishonest boy with tattoos who doesn’t love me anymore.

When I see Landon downstairs, he’s taking a large bite of a bagel; a dab of cream cheese rests in the corner of his mouth and his tongue darts out to retrieve it. “Morning.” He smiles, his cheek full and eyes wide.

“Morning,” I repeat and pour a glass of water.

He continues to stare at me while I sip my water. “What?” I finally ask him.

“You . . . well . . . you look great,” he says.

“Thank you. I decided to shower and come back from the
dead,” I joke, and he smiles slowly as if he’s unsure about my mental state. “Really, it’s fine,” I assure him, and he takes another bite of his bagel, finishing it.

I decide to put one in the toaster for myself and try not to notice Landon staring at me like I’m an animal in a zoo.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I tell him after finishing my breakfast.

“Tessa, you look so gorgeous today!” Karen exclaims when she enters the kitchen.

“Thank you.” I smile at her.

Today’s the first day that I’ve taken the time to get ready, really ready and presentable. The last eight days I have gone far away from my usual neat appearance. Today I feel like myself. My new self. My “After Hardin” self. Day nine is my day.

“That dress is flattering.” Karen compliments me again.

The yellow dress that Trish got me for Christmas fits well and it’s very casual. I’m not going to make the same mistake as last time and attempt to wear heels to classes, so my Toms it is. Half of my hair is pinned back, with a few loose curls tapering over my face. My makeup is subtle, but I think it suits me well. My eyes burned slightly as I dragged the brown liner underneath my eye . . . makeup surely wasn’t on my list of priorities during my downward spiral.

“Thank you so much.” I smile again.

“Have a great day.” Karen smiles, clearly surprised but very pleased at my return to the real world.

This must be what it’s like to have a caring mother, someone to send you off to school with kind and encouraging words. Someone unlike my mother.

My mother . . . I have dodged all calls from her, and thankfully so. She was the last person I wanted to speak to, but now that I can breathe without wanting to rip my heart from my chest, I actually want to call her.

“Oh, Tessa, will you be riding with us to Christian’s house on Sunday?” Karen asks just as I reach the door.