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been waiting my whole life to tell the truth. I really thought

you’d be happy for me. For us. Maybe you’re too young. Too

inexperienced.” Steph isn’t trying to be mean, she’s just

wandering through this muck of a fight that we’re suddenly

having the same way I am.

I know that, but I still go on the defensive. “It doesn’t

have anything to do with being young. When it comes to

experience, I have far more of that than you do. It’s just –

some of those experiences hit me hard. I don’t mean to dump

that on you and – I’m not ready to talk about them either. I

think I’d better just go home and try to calm down.”

I don’t give Steph a chance to respond because I just

need to get out of there before I say or do anything more

damaging. I can see how much everything I’d said already cuts

through her like a knife and I need to stop. This is all my own

shit coming out. I should have had my guard up and now I’m

scared because it wasn’t there when I needed it. I’m confused

and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m so

terribly afraid of being the one hurt. Again. Of being the one

dumped. Again. Of being the one broken. Again. Of being the

one who gets left with hardly any explanation at all.

I realize that I still have my purse nearby. My shoes are

on. I had never even set anything down. I turn and run for the

door because I just need to get out of here before I say or do

anything more damaging. I have no idea if this can be

salvaged. I don’t know what will happen to us. I don’t even

know if I’m ready for this. I thought I was, but now? It’s like

there’s a huge bump in the road, but the bump is actually a

sinkhole and I’m falling into it and there might not be a road

on the other side to get back onto.