Page 70 of Isn’t It Nice We Both Hate the Same Things

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

‘You know, this is the second time you’ve packed up and left this apartment.’

Dave says it like it is genuinely the first time he’s realised. As if, seeing the taped boxes at my feet, he’s the only one here to join the dots. Like he’s pointing out something funny that I haven’t yet noticed.

‘Far less of it this time,’ I say, looking down at it all. A few boxes and two bags of toiletries. Some medications. Leftover food he’s not going to eat.

‘Still,’ he says. ‘I’m getting déjà vu.’ His smile is forced, and he cannot look me in the eye.

Moments like this, I feel genuinely sad about everything that’s occurred.

Something that could’ve been great – that could’ve lasted – has crumbled and we’re off now.

On our own. Ten years, and we’re saying goodbye once again.

It takes a lot to push that down, cast it aside.

To tell myself, Hey, you did nothing wrong.

‘Maybe you’ll roll an ankle or sprain your wrist,’ he says, musing. ‘And you’ll call me again.’

‘Do you want me to call you?’

‘No, that would be strange. I don’t really know what I’m saying.’

His incoherence is quite the challenge this morning, but I sympathise with the jumble in his mind. All that time with someone, gone. ‘I had to update my emergency contact on some forms this morning, and it was a strange feeling.’

And then he laughs. An open-mouth chuckle, kind of dopey. ‘I should apologise for something before you leave, actually.’

‘Oh?’

‘I lied to you, before. I already knew you lost the engagement ring.’ Shuffles his feet along the ground. ‘Didn’t know how you lost it, but knew it was gone.’

I baulk. Step closer. ‘For how long?’

‘Like, the whole time.’

‘ The whole time ?’

‘Yeah.’ Then he puts one hand on his hip. ‘Were you ever going to tell me you lost it?’

‘No.’

‘Really?’ His eyes widen, his chin lowering. ‘Shit.’

Remembering all of his text messages, and all the emails from my lawyer, I frown. His anger, just a few weeks ago, when I told him and he acted shocked. ‘You knew , this whole time.’

He attempts to explain. ‘I realise how cruel I was being, and I’m not proud of it.

After you lost it, I waited ages for you to tell me what happened, but you never did.

’ He leans against the wall, one leg tucked behind the other.

‘Figured you were embarrassed, so I never said anything. And then when you left, I was so upset I asked about it just to make you feel guilty. Told the lawyers I wanted it back just to reach a settlement. I wanted to see what you’d do. ’

‘I thought you just wanted to see me again.’

‘No, I was angry at you.’ He looks away. ‘You left me because of something that happened before we were even together.’

‘I left you because I didn’t love you anymore.’

And suddenly, the apartment is painfully silent.

‘Oh.’

‘Sometimes there doesn’t have to be a reason,’ I say. ‘We were good together, and then we weren’t.’

‘But you made it about the girl.’

‘Your daughter.’

Pause, and then he exhales. ‘Yeah, my daughter.’

The way he’s looking at me tells me he’s expecting some kind of explanation.

‘I could never do what you did.’

He bites his bottom lip. ‘Good to know, thanks.’ And then, folding his arms across his chest, he meets my eye. ‘How long had you fallen out of love with me?’

I choose to ignore the question. ‘You seriously knew I’d lost the ring? I tormented myself for months over that! You should’ve said something. Sometimes I think I’ve seen the worst in you and then you somehow top it.’

A flash of guilt crosses his face, and then he steps closer. His chin tilts an inch to the right. ‘Charlie, how long had you fallen out of love with me?’

I let out an exhausted sigh. ‘A while.’

‘Before the wedding?’

‘I don’t know.’ But I do know. Yes, before the wedding, and I married you because I didn’t know how to walk away. Because I thought we’d be fine, and we weren’t.

He’s in pain, I think, but he’s also accepting it. All these months and he seems to understand now that we did the best we could do. We are both at fault here, and I cannot continue blaming Dave when I am equally responsible.

He’s quite the aggressive nodder when he’s coming to terms with something.

‘Right, well, okay. Shit, I guess.’ He lets an arm fall down by his side. The other, running through his hair. ‘When you told me about the ring, you asked if I thought we would’ve split eventually. Said if it weren’t for the girl, that it would’ve ended on its own.’

‘And?’

‘You’re probably right. As much as it pains me to admit.’ He looks up at me. ‘But it would’ve been you. Leaving. It always would’ve been you. I could never.’

When we hear a truck horn downstairs, we know my removalist has arrived. That we’re parting, now. Him, off to see Josie, Cinar, Emmanuel and Diego. Me, moving into my new rental, then dinner with Quinn.

‘Thank you,’ I say. Wave my hands around the apartment. ‘For all this.’

He says nothing, but his lips pinch upwards into a smile. ‘You’re the only one who—’

‘I’m not,’ he says. ‘I’m not the only one. You’ve got Quinn. And Genevieve. Graham, and your work friends. And my friends, if you’d have them back.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ I say. ‘But I get what you mean.’

He smiles, looks down.

‘Your friends aren’t very good friends.’

From my front pocket, I pull out Dave’s spare key. Drop it into his open palm. Watch as his fingers close over it, fastened firmly in his grasp.

He shrugs. ‘I know. But what can I say? I love them.’