Page 42 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

She retreats upstairs, likely to her room, but I just keep standing there, frozen. I wish I could go after her and tell her it’s different. But she’s right. About all of it.

I make sure to head upstairs early so I won’t miss her because I know what’s coming.

At 8:36, she opens her door, carrying her weekender bag over her shoulder.

It isn’t rocket science that she’s leaving. She should.

We make eye contact. She gives me a sympathetic smile, and I give her a sorry one.

I made her favorite for breakfast, motioning to the stack of blackberry pancakes waiting. Fuck, I’m going to miss this.A lot.

“Thanks.” She sets down her bag by the stairs and comes to sit beside me at the eat-in table, putting a pancake and some bacon on her plate.

I’m not hungry, so I just sit with her. My leg bounces, and the knot in my throat feels uncomfortably tight.

“It should go without saying that I don’t want you to leave.” She looks up at me, tears pooling around her blue irises.

“I-” she starts but pauses.

“I know why you can’t stay, Em. I do.” So badly, I want to be this person for her, a better version of me, but I just can’t fucking do it. I can’t keep the tears in, and neither can she. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t still need you.” I wouldn’t have survived without her. I know that for a fact.

I wish you’d stay.

“You don’t need me, Alex,” she says softly, the tears running slowly off her face. I grab her hand, holding it tightly, and shake my head.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” That’s what’s so fucking painful. She brought me back to life, and I killed her in turn.

She sort of nods along, knowing the truth of the matter.

“You can call,” she concedes, “if you ever really need me. Just-can you please not make a habit of it?” I nod, knowing I would call her. “It hurts to love you right now, but maybe in the future, it won’t.” She shrugs, gutting me because I fucking love her too.

I pull her into a tight hug, and I tell her. “I love you too, Em.” She cries hard on my shoulder, and I cry, too, until we both run dry.

“You don’t need me,” she says, pulling away, “you need a dog…and maybe some therapy.” She smiles, and I laugh.

“Yeah. I think you’re right.”

TWELVE

Alex

july

“Ohhh, now that’s a good boy!” Constantine praises the corgi sitting at his feet, wagging his tail. “This one could be good.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he bursts out laughing.

“I’m not getting a fucking corgi, Connie.”

“Why not?” He asks incredulously.

“His legs are too fucking short for long-distance hikes, that’s why.” He dramatically rolls his eyes, patting the corgi’s head for good measure, flipping over the dog tag to read its name.

“Sorry, Milton. Maybe next time.”I should get the dog for Connie.

We walk around the kennel, stopping at a couple different crates, when Connie gestures for me.

“Now I know this is cliché, but c’mon, look at this little guy.” A German Shepherd puppy is huddled in the corner of his crate. I take one look, and I’m a fucking goner.

“Yeah…” I get down on my haunches and hold my fingers up to the crate. “Hey bud, look at you.” I make a clicking sound, andthe pup slowly rises and pads over, his tail tucked between his legs.