Page 119 of Penalty Shot

“Although that’s exactly what you’re asking of me, isn’t it?” Her hand drops to her side and she takes another step back.

“No,” I answer stubbornly and then, with less conviction, “notexactly.”

“After all, if there’s a career worth moving for, it’s yours,” she huffs.

“Elise, for fuck’s sake, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“I thought we would be different. That finally I’m with someone who doesn’t resent me for the choices I’ve made with my life.”

“Resent you? I fucking love you.”

“You want me around. That’s not the same thing.”

“I want you in my lifebecauseI love you. But if you don’t think staying together is worth the effort, then…”

My mouth can’t say what flashed across my muddled brain.

How did we get here?

How did this conversation turn into an ugly clash of my demands and her insecurities, my desperation about the future dredging up Elise’s weariness about her past.

“Are you breaking up with me?” she asks quietly. Calmly.

“Don’t even fucking say those words, Elise,” I growl because fuck calm. She doesn’t get to be calm while this conversation tears into me.

I’m cracking from inside, turning into ugly shards.

I am one big, ugly, jagged edge.

“I don’t think we can solve anything tonight. Everything you say feels like an…an accusation.”

“Elise.”

“I know it isn’t. I know that objectively you’re giving me options and assessing my career and weighing our choices. But maybe you could have given me time to do that formyself.”

Tears escape the corner of her eyes. They might as well be bullets because each one hits me. I’ve pushed and pushed because I need an answer right fucking now. But in the process of going all in, I’ve hurt the woman I love.

“I’m sorry, Elise. Shit, please don’t cry. Goddamn, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Randall,” she says softly.

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I get it now. I get it. I…where are you going?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s possible we could do even more damage if I stay tonight.”

I stand in place for a long time after the door closes behind her, wondering how the hell I fucked up so bad.

I return the next day and there’s a note for me on the table where we place our keys. My hands shaking, I tear it open. His script fills the paper with rushed, confident strokes.

Elise,

I’m training most of the day. Let me know when you’re ready to talk or when it’s OK to text. I’m sorry I pushed so hard.

Love,

Randall

Elise:Saw your note. Reach out any time.