Page 5 of The Time It Takes

"I hope you're okay with chocolate cake," I told him, at last making myself stop staring.

"I'll like whatever they pick. That's so nice! Wow."

"Yeah, well, everyone likes you," I told him. "You're a calm, nice guy that nobody has a problem with."

"Not everyone likes me," said my partner, sounding slightly amused.

"Who? You fit in with your new pack almost instantly. The precinct is already nuts about you if they're planning a birthday surprise—they don't do that for just anyone. Even suspects and perps tend to like you."

He ducked his head a little, trying not to look embarrassed. "That's very nice. I was thinking of Darby—she's not exactly fond of me. But you're right, a lot of people are, and I appreciate being accepted so readily. People have been really nice here."

I didn't know what to say after that. It was true: Darby had been cold to my partner since she first met him. She looked down on Arlie, seemed to find him irritating for no good reason. Was it just because he and I got along so well? She couldn't be jealous of that, could she? That seemed pretty odd, but she did get jealous over the oddest things. She'd been mad at me one whole month because I was playing video games more than she'd liked. And I wasn't exactly an obsessive gamer.

She had a point, though. There wasn't really room in my life for hobbies right now. I sort of let her win that argument just by being worn down about it, and finding it easier to stop doing the things I liked rather than fight about it. They were just games, after all, but I did miss it. Sometimes a lot. Maybe if my life ever got less busy, I could get back to it.

I had the sinking feeling my life would never be less chaotic if Darby stayed my girlfriend. I thought of the long years ahead, waiting for me, waiting for us to take the next steps, the logical relationship steps: buy a house, get married, head lockstep down the road of hetero bliss.

It felt like being strangled, slowly choking to death.

A slow, sad realization rose in me. This wasn't fair to either of us. If she hated me, she shouldn't spend her life with me. And if I resented her and felt dread about spending the rest of my life with her, I shouldn't be with her.

We were going to have to break up. No matter how uncomfortable it was. I'd really, really wanted to make this work, and be the guy I thought I could be.

I wasn't going to be able to fix this, and I wasn't going to be able to handle going on and on and on the way things were.

I needed to get out—I needed to be single. And, I realized, I didn't even want to 'stay friends.' I wasn't sure we'd ever actually been friends, anyway. We certainly wouldn't be when I told her it was over, I was done.

I wondered how soon I'd be able to get up the nerve to have that conversation, and how long I should put it off. I should wait at least a week, right? I didn't want to spoil Arlie's birthday.

Even as I thought that, I knew it was just an excuse. I was just dreading this. I needed to get all my ducks in a row, though. We hadn't combined our finances, so that should be okay, but we did live together, and had the apartment in both of our names. I also had a lot of things there that I'd rather she didn't break. It would be nice to get at least some of them out before I gave her the news we were over. Just in case.

Chapter three

Sometimes, I remembermy dreams. That night, I had a pretty intense one. I was walking along the top of a cliff, trying to stay balanced. Someone was shouting at me, telling me to go faster, but I couldn't go faster unless I wanted to fall and tumble down to my death on the rocks below. Loud waves hit the shore below the cliff, a shore that was made of jagged rocks, no sand at all.

It was a place I'd been before, at least in my dreams. It seemed more real to me than some of the places I'd actually gone to. In the dream, it was familiar. It always was.