But I Love Him

1.

August 15 Eleven Months, Sixteen Days
I've made a mistake. A huge, monumental mistake. I forgot Tavy's
truck broke down. I forgot he was going to be waiting for me when I
walked out of Subway. I've only been back on the job for two weeks,
and it's already putting a strain on my relationship with Tavy. And
now he's seen me. He's seen me laugh and push Jacob, the new guy.
And I know what he's thinking, and I know where his mind is going,
and I know without asking that he's steaming, waiting for me. I know
the fear he has of losing me overpowers everything else, even his
common sense. I know deep inside he trusts me, but I know his raging
insecurities will always prevail. He's so afraid of losing me that he can't
see I'd never leave him. And I know he had to have seen the way jacob
hugged me with one arm, just a loose sideways hug, but still a hug. He
won't believe me when I say Mark means nothing. He'll just replay that
hug over and over in his mind and he'll spin a story that's so far from
the truth. I've been so careful for so long. It was bound to happen
eventually. I was bound to slip and do something like this. Why do I
even wonder why I have no friends anymore? Why do I even wonder
why no one talks to me? It's my own doing. It's my own fears that
something will happen and I'll say the wrong thing to the wrong person,
and they'll interfere somehow.And this is what will happen. Even The Attack Helicopter (Meee)
knows it. It's why she stays away without me telling her to. It's why she
smiles that sad smile when she sees me. It's why she's stopped trying to
be my friend. She was the last to give up. The last to surrender me to
Tavy. I hate this. I hate it so much, this waiting as we walk toward my
car, jacob having no idea what's about to happen and me knowing it too
well. I'm afraid. I hate that I'm actually afraid of him right now. I hate
that I know what this silence means, and all I can do is wait for it to
explode. I feel claustrophobic and I'm not even in the car yet. I consider
running. Away from him, away from everything. I could go five, ten
miles before I had to stop. I'd be halfway to Aberdeen by then. Our tiny
ocean town of Westport, Washington, is a town of nothing. I'd be gone
in ten minutes. But that won't solve it, and maybe
this time he'll talk to me. He's been getting a little better, now that he's
away from his dad so much. He's been cooling.Adjusting. Maybe this
time he'll understand, and he'll see that Jacob is just some random guy
who means nothing at all, and we can use this to grow from. I know
that's going to happen, if I stick with him long enough. He just needs
some guidance, some love, some understanding. He wants so badly to
become that person. But of course that's not the case. When he clicks his
door shut, and before I start the car, he grabs my wrist and squeezes, too
hard. It's always too much, too intense, too everything. "Forget the
store. Take me to the apartment. Now." And for some reason, the whole
ride there, the whole deathly silent ride, I keep hoping that my car will
break down too and I'll have to get out, that we'll never make it to his
apartment. But we do. I pull up at his fourplex, parking so carefully,
perfectly between the white lines. I stare at the other three doors, hoping
no one is home in those apartments. It's a tiny building, two apartments
downstairs, two up. Tavy's is on the upper left, with a big crooked
number three nailed to the door. I follow him up the old wooden stairs,
my heart pounding. I can hardly feel the thin railing as it slides
underneath my hand, guiding me toward the front door with the peeling
red paint. We're barely through the entry before he shoves me, hard, and
I'm sent sprawling all over the floor. I bang my elbow and a jolt of
electricity shoots up my arm. I hear the door slam behind me, and the
pictures on the wall rattle with the force. I lie there longer than I should,
trying to keep my breathing down, trying to suppress the instinct to curl
in a ball. I know his moods can turn with the right words. I know if I
think clearly, I can steer him back toward being himself again. If I do
this right, Tavy will be back. ... "You have no idea how...stupid you
are." And then he reels back, his hand fisted, and punches. The wall. It
caves in around me, bits of drywall showering down around my
shoulders. And that is that. The first hit, the first good, hard hit, usually
wakes him up. I can actually see it in his face, this abrupt before and
after. I always know when it shifts. I think maybe the pain, so raw and
real, pulls him out of his rage. Today I am lucky. Today it is the wall,
and not me. He blinks, twice, and looks at me. At the way I tremble in
front of him. "Oh. I ..." He steps away from me.
There is always a moment like this. A moment where I think he is seeing
himself, where he's reeling everything back inside him, forcing it back
down and bottling it back up, and then he turns to me. For that split
second before he gains his senses again, I see that same shock and fear
on his face as must be mirrored on mine. I see that he has no idea what
he's done. That he had no control of himself. But it's not fair. It's not
fair that he lets his rage take over, that he lets it rule him. I don't know
why he has to be two people. I don't know why he gets to be two
different people, and I only get to be me, the one who is here to take
what he has to give, and who is here to pick up the pieces afterward. Me.
It's always me. I don't want it to be like this anymore. I can't handle
more of this. I'm barely holding it together. I'm barely holding him
together. It's just not fair. He steps forward to hug me, but I stiffen and
he has to force his arms around me to get the hug to work. And I let out
a sob of relief, because it's over. The episode is over. Today he didn't
touch me. And I think this may be a good thing, it may mean he's not
going to. Ever again. If he can see me with another guy and get this
angry and not touch me, it has to mean something. I let myself hope that
it means something, because otherwise I'm not sure how much longer I
can last. He holds me and I melt into a mess of sobs, which shocks me. I
thought I was done doing this. I thought I could steel myself from this.
But I can't handle the roller coaster anymore. I can't handle this up and
down. He lets me slide to the floor and then he pulls me into his lap and
he rocks me, back and forth, as I sob so hard I can't breathe and start
hiccupping. "I'm sorry, Alice. I'm so sorry." I sniffle, my breath coming
out in funny little rasps. "I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to stop
doing this. I want it to be like it was when we met." "I know. It will be, I
promise. I'll treat you like I used to. I swear." I nod my head, wanting to
believe it. But even when I stop crying, even when we fall asleep and
I'm nestled in his arms, this will leave another scar. No one will see it.
No one will know. But it will be there. And eventually all the scars will
have scars and that is all I will be, one big scar of a love gone wrong.

<JKHGF