Read Online After I Do by Taylor Jenkins Reid - Free Book Online
Authors: Taylor Jenkins Reid
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my wrongness; I will swim in it. I will breathe it in and let it overtake my lungs and my body, and I will cry it out, heavy tears so full of relief they will be baptismal.
“Because now I don’t know how we keep going,” he says. “I don’t know where we go from here.”
He finally looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot. When he pulls his fingers out of his hair, they leave it in disarray, scattered every which way across his head. I start to say, What do you mean? but instead, I say, “How long have you known?”
Ryan’s face drops into an expression that isn’t so much miserable but, rather, lifeless. “Does it matter?” he asks me, and honestly, I’m not sure. But I press on.
“I just figured it out,” I say. “I’m just wondering how long you’ve known you weren’t in love with me.”
“I don’t know. A few weeks, I guess,” he says, staring back at the blanket. It is striped and multicolored, and for that, I am thankful. It will keep his attention. Maybe he won’t look at me.
“Like a month?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Or like a few weeks, like I said.”
“When?” I say. I don’t know why I get out of bed, but I do. I have to stand up. My body has to be standing.
“I just told you when,” he says. He doesn’t move from the bed.
“No,” I say, my back now up against our bedroom wall. “Like, what happened that made you realize it?”
“What happened that made you realize it?” he asks me. The blanket’s stripes have failed to do their job; he looks at me. I flinch.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It just sort of flew into my head. One moment, I didn’t know what was going on, and then suddenly, I just . . . got it.”
“Same here,” he says. “Same thing for me.”
“But, like, what day? What were we doing?” I don’t know why I need to seek this information out. It just feels like something I don’t know—his side of this. “I’m just trying to get some context.”
“Just lay off it, OK?” Back to the stripes.
“Just be honest, would you? We’re clearing the air here. Just let it out. It’s all about to come out anyway, every last ugly piece of this. Just let it out. Just let it—”
“I’m not in love with another woman, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says.
That wasn’t what I was asking at all.
“But I just . . .” He continues. “I noticed that I am seeing them differently.”
“Women?”
“Yeah. I look at them now. I never used to look at them. I was looking at one of them, and I just . . . I realized that I don’t think of you the way I think of them.”
“Women?”
“Yeah.”
I let it sink in. Thumper gets off the bed and walks over to me. Can he sense what’s happening? He sits at the door by my feet and looks at Ryan. My heart starts to crack. This might all end in me losing Thumper.
“So what does this mean?” I ask quietly, gently. By saying the words out loud, I have changed our fate. I have set us in motion. I am ripping us out of this comfortable prison once and for all. I am going to solve this problem. I have a lot of other problems, and I know this is going to cause a whole new set of problems, but living with someone I don’t like isn’t going to be one of them. Not anymore.
Ryan steps toward me, and he holds me. I want it to feel better than it does. His voice is just as quiet and calm as mine. “This can’t be the end, Lauren. This is just a rough patch or something.”
“But,” I say, looking up at him, finally ready to say the last of what had been in my heart for so long, “I can’t stand you.”
It feels like such a sweet and visceral release, and yet the minute it comes out of my mouth, I wish I never said it. I wish I was the sort of person who doesn’t need her pain to be heard. I want to be the type of person who can keep it to herself and spare the feelings of others. But I’m not that person. My anger has to take flight. It has to be set free and allowed to bounce
“Because now I don’t know how we keep going,” he says. “I don’t know where we go from here.”
He finally looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot. When he pulls his fingers out of his hair, they leave it in disarray, scattered every which way across his head. I start to say, What do you mean? but instead, I say, “How long have you known?”
Ryan’s face drops into an expression that isn’t so much miserable but, rather, lifeless. “Does it matter?” he asks me, and honestly, I’m not sure. But I press on.
“I just figured it out,” I say. “I’m just wondering how long you’ve known you weren’t in love with me.”
“I don’t know. A few weeks, I guess,” he says, staring back at the blanket. It is striped and multicolored, and for that, I am thankful. It will keep his attention. Maybe he won’t look at me.
“Like a month?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Or like a few weeks, like I said.”
“When?” I say. I don’t know why I get out of bed, but I do. I have to stand up. My body has to be standing.
“I just told you when,” he says. He doesn’t move from the bed.
“No,” I say, my back now up against our bedroom wall. “Like, what happened that made you realize it?”
“What happened that made you realize it?” he asks me. The blanket’s stripes have failed to do their job; he looks at me. I flinch.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It just sort of flew into my head. One moment, I didn’t know what was going on, and then suddenly, I just . . . got it.”
“Same here,” he says. “Same thing for me.”
“But, like, what day? What were we doing?” I don’t know why I need to seek this information out. It just feels like something I don’t know—his side of this. “I’m just trying to get some context.”
“Just lay off it, OK?” Back to the stripes.
“Just be honest, would you? We’re clearing the air here. Just let it out. It’s all about to come out anyway, every last ugly piece of this. Just let it out. Just let it—”
“I’m not in love with another woman, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says.
That wasn’t what I was asking at all.
“But I just . . .” He continues. “I noticed that I am seeing them differently.”
“Women?”
“Yeah. I look at them now. I never used to look at them. I was looking at one of them, and I just . . . I realized that I don’t think of you the way I think of them.”
“Women?”
“Yeah.”
I let it sink in. Thumper gets off the bed and walks over to me. Can he sense what’s happening? He sits at the door by my feet and looks at Ryan. My heart starts to crack. This might all end in me losing Thumper.
“So what does this mean?” I ask quietly, gently. By saying the words out loud, I have changed our fate. I have set us in motion. I am ripping us out of this comfortable prison once and for all. I am going to solve this problem. I have a lot of other problems, and I know this is going to cause a whole new set of problems, but living with someone I don’t like isn’t going to be one of them. Not anymore.
Ryan steps toward me, and he holds me. I want it to feel better than it does. His voice is just as quiet and calm as mine. “This can’t be the end, Lauren. This is just a rough patch or something.”
“But,” I say, looking up at him, finally ready to say the last of what had been in my heart for so long, “I can’t stand you.”
It feels like such a sweet and visceral release, and yet the minute it comes out of my mouth, I wish I never said it. I wish I was the sort of person who doesn’t need her pain to be heard. I want to be the type of person who can keep it to herself and spare the feelings of others. But I’m not that person. My anger has to take flight. It has to be set free and allowed to bounce
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