Page 98 of Darling
“It doesn’t have to be over, Asher. We can… make it work. An arrangement which suits us both...” He looks tormented.
“I don’t want to be yourfucking arrangement!” I shout, something snapping inside. “I want to be in a relationship, Christian. A real one. I want a future with you. I want one day to move in together, get a pet, get engaged, get fucking married. I want a home and a family and someone who loves me back. I don’t want… to be anyone’s arrangement.”
He blinks, looking dumbstruck. He’s dumbstruck by the idea that I want these things? My heart sinks further.
“Asher…” he whispers. “You know I can’t…” I do know, but it still fucking hurts to hear him confirm it, like having a needle pushed slowly into my chest.
“Yeah, I know.” I straighten. My throat closes around my next words, which come out biting and bitter. “Which is why I need to end this thing and get the fuck over it—find someone who can give it to me.” I’m terrified I’m about to cry again, and I think he is too, because he comes toward me into the kitchen, arms out like he means to pull me into them. “No, don’t, don’t. I can’t do that.”
He stops. “Asher, if I could give you those things, youknowI would.”
“No, I don’t. You could easily give them to me, you’re just choosing not to, and that’s what fucking hurts.”
“Darling, it’s not as simple as that, you know that.”
“Stop telling meI knowthings! I don’tknowanything! I don’t know anything except that you aren’t interested in trying to have a life with me. I don’t know anything except that I make you happy, and it’s still not enough. Iknowthat you don’t want me.”
“I want you,” Christian says, stepping closer again, pleading. “Christ, Asher, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”
“Yeah, to fuck,” I snap. “A lot of guys wanna fuck me, Christian. I’ve built a pretty solid fucking career on it. Problem is, none of them wanna love me.” Hurt explodes across his face, and I know I’ve hit my mark. It makes me feel even more like shit.
“I’m not worthy of this love, Asher, not the man I am today.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re scared. Scared of fucking trying. Scared it’ll mean you don’t love her anymore.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, I know it is, I have no right to bring his dead wife into it, fucking none. But his expression doesn’t change, it’s still this soft, sad thing.
“Yes, I’m scared,” he admits. “I’m terrified. I’ve been terrified for years, Asher. Of forgetting her laugh or the sound of her voice. Now? I’m terrified of never seeing you again, of promising you a future I can’t give you, of what it would mean for my son if I say yes to everything you’re offering me. My life is politics and work, and you’re right, I cannot have you and it. I, of all people, know the world doesn’t work like that. But I’m also terrified of who I am without those things. I’m terrified of our age difference and what it will mean in ten years, twenty. I’m terrified that you’re far too young to be so sure about someone—about me—and that if I say yes to this, in a year, you’ll realise the very same thing and I’ll lose you, too.” I’m about to argue with him abouteverything, but he shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and goes on. “A man can’t live with this much fear and not be consumed by it, I know that, to not have it eat away at everything good and warm and happy in his life. You deserve someone who isn’t so fucking afraid, Asher. Someone who isn’t so bloody broken.” He looks at me and smiles, and I have to bite back the sob that threatens to break out of my chest. “I’ve loved being in your light, darling—it’s been like having the sun on my face after so long in the cold—but I have none of my own to give you, and that’s not fair. I feel like a bloody ghost haunting my own life.” He reaches out and takes my head in both his hands, holding it like it’s made of glass. “I need to find my own light again before I make promises I can’t keep. I need to fix myself and my son, and my heart, before I burden you with it. I need tostoplying to myself and those around me. But mostly, I need to stop living in the past. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want without reservation, sweetheart. You deserve far better than I can give you right now.”
“But it’s you that I want,” I say through a mass of tears. “I don’t want anyone else.”
With a watery smile, he leans in to kiss me, his mouth lingering soft and trembling against my lips for a long time.
“My beautiful, perfect boy. You’re so very special,” he says against my lips. “Please don’t settle.” When he kisses me again, it’s firmer, more determined, more like goodbye. I want to grab hold of it and never let go. Pulling back, he kisses both cheeks, my nose, then my forehead before taking a step back. He draws his eyes over me, like he’s cataloguing me for the last time, and then he’s turning on his heel and moving for the door.
Alarm shudders through my body like an earthquake.Go after him.Don’t let him leave. You love him. You love him.
“Christian,” I call out, stumbling after him.
He’s almost at the front door when he turns back. My head is so fucking noisy and loud, so chaotic that I can barely organise a single thought. I’m not sure what I want my last words to him to be, and these feel like they might be my last. Deep down, I want them to be something that will make him change his mind about everything and stay. And love me. And be with me.
“Try not to start any wars,” is what I say. Yeah, fucking inspired, I know.
There’s a little quirk of his mouth. “I’ll try,” he says. “Goodbye, Asher.”
When the door closes behind him, I back myself against the wall and slide to the floor, body numb from loss and grief. What the fuck did I just do?
??
Amata returns sometime later, coming into the apartment like she’s entering the site of a natural disaster; careful, soft steps. I’d managed to lift myself from the floor, so she finds me on the couch still wrapped in the blanket, unwashed and miserable. She sets a takeout coffee and a brown bag down and sits next to me, moving to angle herself so I can lie with my head on her lap.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She begins sifting her fingers through my hair, and I close my eyes to focus on the comfort of it.
I shrug.
“Am I adding him to the list?” She means the castration list.
I shake my head as tears gather behind my eyelids again.