Page 31 of Perfect on Paper

“No,” Brougham said.

I glanced up at him. “It’s close enough, it doesn’t have to be word for word.”

“No, I mean…” He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I was the one who wanted to be talking more often. Not her.”

And for once, I had no words. How was I supposed to speak when my whole view of Brougham was crumbling into a thousand pixels and rearranging itself to tell the story of a person who looked nothing like the version of him I had in my head? That version of Brougham was a commitment-phobe. He pulled away when people got too close. He was aloof where others were clingy. He had a closed-off heart.

But this, apparently, was false.

The words sat in my mouth for a while before they forced their way out. “O-oh. Got it.” I scribbled out the arrow ofthe speech bubble and connected it to the Brougham figure instead.

“You sound awfully surprised.”

I pressed my lips together and kept drawing.

“You shouldn’t be so sexist, Philips,” Brougham continued lightly, picking a lint ball off his sweater. “Assumptions like that’ll keep me trapped in the claws of toxic masculinity.”

A throbbing in my jaw warned me I was clenching my teeth. I ran my tongue around my mouth to loosen everything up and gave Winona’s stick figure a new speech bubble: “No!! I hate your face!!”

“How did you know she said that?” Brougham asked in mock amazement. “Youarea miracle worker.”

“Did a fight lead to the breakup?” I asked while I stuck the new picture on the board.

“More or less. I guess I gave her an ultimatum.”

I dropped my hands to my sides and turned around on the bed. “Youdidn’t.”

“I wish that were true.”

“Why didn’t you just throw a fucking grenade between you while you were at it?”

Brougham blinked, and a perfectly placed lock of hair fought its way free to fall into his face. “Come on,that bad?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Yes, Brougham, that bad. What was the ultimatum?”

“Well… I said if she couldn’t be bothered to talk to me, she obviously wasn’t invested in the relationship, and I didn’t want to be with her if she couldn’t bring herself to do something that simple.”

“And she said?”

“I was smothering her and she didn’t want to be with me anymore anyway.”

I feigned stabbing myself in the stomach with an imaginary sword and flailed about in mock pain.

“Yeah. Basically.”

I hopped to my feet and crossed the room to start another picture. “I take it you regretted it?”

“Honestly, I didn’t mean it to begin with. I think I just wanted her to know how serious I was, so she’d worry and get her act together.”

“So, to recap, you thought that by threatening your girlfriend, you’d fill her with so much love and affection for you she’d want to speak to youmore?” I looked up at him.

He twisted his mouth and took a deep, weighted breath. “… Yes.”

On a fresh piece of paper, I drew male and female stick figures with a heart above their heads while Brougham watched. “What’s that I’m aiming at the heart?” he asked.

“A bow and arrow.”

“Ah. Of course.”