“I want you to just be. Stop trying to show me a sanitized version of yourself. Show me the guy underneath all of that crap.”
“Don’t you fucking get it yet? Under all my crap is just more crap. You think that somewhere in here is some magically well-adjusted individual, and all I have to do is find him? He doesn’t exist! Believe me, I’ve looked! All I am is endless layers of shit. I thought that would be obvious by now.” I hear him exhale. “So go ahead. Fail me. I don’t fucking care anymore.”
His voice cracks on the last word, and I so badly want to put my arms around him.
He struggles so hard with his self ettem, but knowing what he’s gone through, I understand why he finds being open so tough. He was a foster kid who wasn’t adopted until he was three, and when he found out about the adoption at the age of sixteen, he didn’t know who he was anymore. His rocky relationship with his dad didn’t help. Charles turned parental disapproval into an artform.
If all that wasn’t bad enough, in his senior year, Ethan discovered his high school sweetheart had been screwing his best friend for the better part of 12 months. I can’t even imagine coping with all of that.
Clearly, judging from what’s happening right now, neither can Ethan.
I chance a peek into the room. He’s sitting in a chair, head in his hands, staring at the floor. Erika is opposite him. She leans forward as if trying to reach him with her words.
“Ethan, listen. I think we both know this isn’t just about an acting exercise. You think you’re the only one who’s scared to let others see you for who you truly are? Everyone wears metaphorical masks during their lives. We all have different faces we show to our work colleagues, or friends, or family. Sometimes we wear so many masks, we forget who we are underneath it all, but you have to find the courage to drop all that bullshit and reveal your true self. That’s all I want from you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”
He shakes his head. “What if my true self is … shit? Just defective and toxic and unlovable. Why would I ever let someone see that?”
“Because in the end, that’s the only version of you that’s real. It’s the only one you can truly give to others. Everything else is just pretend.”
“You’re right,” he says, his voice husky with emotion. He sounds hopeless. “I’ve been pretending. To so many people for too fucking long.”
She puts a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away.
“Ethan…”
“I’m not doing this anymore. I’ll take the F. Can I go?”
“If there’s nothing else you want to talk about—”
“There isn’t.”
I move away from the door just as he strides out. He doesn’t stop when he sees me.
“Ethan?”
He ignores me.
“Hey, slow down. Where are you going?”
I grab his arm, and he spins around to face me. “Don’t, Cassie. Just fucking don’t. You need more than I can give. I’ve always known it, and now you know it, too. Let’s both stop trying to deny it.”
“What are you—?”
“I tried. I really did. But I’m done. We’re done.”
He pulls his arm free and walks away, and I’m too stunned to do anything but watch him go.
SEVEN
STRONGER
Present Day
New York City, New York
The Apartment of Cassandra Taylor
I don’t know if he’s tired of talking or if he’s just run out of words. He’s talked a lot. About fear and how to conquer it. About learning from past mistakes. About how we’re both better people together than we ever were apart.
He’s saying everything I needed him to say years ago.
I’ve listened to it all but haven’t said much in return.
I’d expect Ethan to be frustrated with me by now, but he’s not. He’s warm. Gently reassuring. More supportive than I’ve ever known him to be.
“I’m not looking for any guarantees here, Cassie,” he says. “Just a chance. An opportunity to try.”
Try to forget what happened in the past and just love him again?
That would be nice.
But trying isn’t always enough.
I clear my throat and find my words. “Even if I agree to try, what makes you think I’m not going to act exactly like you did back then and ruin us?”
For the first time today, I see a hint of irritation. “Because you’re better than I am. You always have been. Infinitely wiser and stronger.”
If I weren’t feeling so anxious, I’d laugh. “Ethan, the one thing I’m not is strong. If I were, I’d have gotten over you by now and moved on with my life. Not be standing here seriously considering giving you another chance.”
“Bullshit. You’re strong because you’re here, facing your fears instead of running from them. If only I’d had your strength in the past, this story would have had a happy ending years ago.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. As much as I want to leave the past in the past, this conversation brings it all rushing back in stomach-churning detail. My chest tightens to the point of pain. I recognize the signs of a panic attack. I’ve had one or two before, all A.E.—After Ethan. Usually Tristan talks me down.
Today, I know it’s my fight-or-flight instinct kicking in.
Ethan strokes my arms when he realizes what’s happening. Of course he recognizes the symptoms.