The Art of Being a F*ck Up

39. Yours

"Hi, honey. Is everything okay?" Her eyes dart around immediately as she analyzes the situation quickly, taking note of me standing in front of her breathing heavily, and of Maddy over in the driveway. No doubt she's able to make a comfortable jump—pregnant and all—to a succinct conclusion, but I make it easy for her nonetheless.

"Is he here? Jonah?" I try to spare her the agony of the mystery, but she doesn't do the same. After I ask it she just looks at me, pursing her lips, so instead of waiting for any kind of answer I look passed her and call into the house frantically. "Jonah!"

"He's not here!" Lilah's forced to make the confession before she's ready. She sighs deeply and touches the side of my face, running her thumb over my cheek. "They left a while ago, Brent. There's nothing more you could've done."

"What? No." Gone. All of this for nothing. Even when in my heart I always knew I would be too late, why does it hurt so fucking much? The world blurs and my ears start to ring, but Lilah's not finished yet.

"I'm so sorry, do you want to come in and talk about it?" She apologizes like it can fix anything, but the ringing only gets louder when I shake my head and walk back towards the car. Or I thought I shook my head, I'm not completely sure now that I hear her calling after me, but I don't stop. It's too loud in my head and it's like there's a hundred-pound weight on top of me because it feels like I can't breathe either, but I get back into the car with Maddy.

"Are you going to tell me what happened? He's not here, is he? I told you we should've gone to the airport." Everything she says sounds all muffled and wrong, yet I still can't concentrate on anything but the ringing as she goes on and on and on and on. So many familiar and powerful things go through me like tidal waves, and it feels like I might scream right up until I do. Maddy jumps when I yell and punch the dash as hard as I can out of nowhere, finding that once I do the ringing subsides. Then the weight does too, when I break down and start to cry.

"I'm sorry," I whisper my own apology, but for what right now I'm not sure. Punching her car? Wasting her time? This completely inappropriate meltdown I'm having in front of her? I've lived an entire life being strong when it was absolutely necessary, I don't know why I can't do that now, I don't know why I can't stop myself from crying. I turn my face away and try to hide it because I feel so ashamed and overwhelmed, but she touches my back gently when I do.

"It's okay. And it's not too late, we can still go if you want—we might still catch him, you never know. Or, you could call him when he lands in New York and tell him everything you wanted to say then. Just, tell me what you want to do." Her question is dangerous, because my immediate answer is to drink. I don't mention that though, she doesn't deserve to be saddled with my grief, which is why I also don't point out how pointless it would be to still go to the airport—or to even call Jonah later. No matter which way she wants to look at it, it's too late. It's over.

"Take me home." It's over.

"You're joking, right? After all the crap we went through, don't tell me it was just so it could end like this. I'll take you home if that's what you really want, but I refuse to let you give up. I'll come over tomorrow so we can make a plan. Deal?" She's back to finding the silver lining, but I'm back to grappling with the reality of it as she puts the car in gear. I had thought it was done with Jonah before, when we broke up, but having him right there made me feel like maybe it wasn't for forever. Now that he's truly gone I realize how horrible it feels to know that it really is, finally, over.

It's a long and painful drive back to the frat house, and I'm grateful that Maddy doesn't say anything else the whole way there. It feels funny now that Jonah's gone, not like with my dad, it's not a relief. It almost feels like I don't know what to do, what's the right way to get on with my life? All that work I've been doing, and all this way I've come, and I'm back to being so devastatingly heartbroken. I guess that's what it feels like though, to lose someone like him, to have had so much hope that just turns to dust—especially after I left Bill's side for nothing. It seemed impossible before, but maybe karma really is more powerful than destiny.