Page 103 of Not You Again
I look at the divorce papers on the table. Her signature on the documents is decisive, isn’t it? “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now.”
“Forgive me for saying, Kit, but it doesn’t seem like you want it to be.”
“I don’t think it’s my choice anymore.” I drag my hands through my hair. “I fucked it up.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Her signature on those divorce papers tells me that.”
“She chose to divorce you?”
I swallow. Because no. No, she didn’t. I’ll never know what her choice was.
And I walked away because I will never be the man she needs. I can’t face it.
“Kit,” Mom says firmly, “did she choose to divorce you?”
I clear my throat and admit the truth. “No. I’m the one that opted out.”
Mom rolls her eyes dramatically. “Why would you go and do something like that?”
“Because I was never going to be what she needs, Mom. I’m too … difficult to love. With my job and my need to take care of everyone even though I can’t be in the same room with them.”
“Have you not been listening to a damn thing I just told you?” She smacks me on the leg. “She chose to be on the show, and she chose to marry you. She chose to show up at the hospital when you needed her. I don’t care what you think she needs; she showed you that what she wants is you.” Another smack on my leg. “And you walked away because—what?—that isn’t what you think love should look like?”
“I should be able to love her without hurting her.”
“Oh, Kit.” She shakes her head. “Do you know how many times you hurt me growing up? Too many to count. Loving someone doesn’t mean you won’t hurt them. It means you’ll stay even when you get it wrong.”
You know I won’t ask you to stay. Andie’s words come back to me, her image framed against the bark of an oak tree. She knew I would leave, knew I would do this, and she told me she loved me anyway.
“You’ve never hurt me,” I murmur.
“That’s a lie.” Mom shakes her head. “Aside from all the times you were angry with me growing up, for whatever reason, I can tell I hurt you by not being … present, myself, after your dad died. And yet here you are, still talking to me. Forgiving me for my misstep. Choosing to let it go and love me still.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
I frown. It is different, right? I think of the day we fought at the hospital. Andie was furious with me. For a lot of reasons.
But all the same, she let me in. She told me all the ways she was upset with me. Then she told me she wanted to be there for me when I needed her. She let me into her bed and into her body and into her heart. Because I asked. She chose to do it. Even after I hurt her.
“Do you love her?” Mom’s words interrupt my thoughts.
“Yes.” The word escapes my lips before I can stop it. I love her. Fiercely. I can’t love her perfectly, but I can love her with all of me.
“And she wanted to stay in the marriage?”
I swallow, gripping my knees so tightly my knuckles blanch. “I don’t know. I didn’t let her answer.”
Mom throws her hands up in frustration. “Then what the hell are you doing slouching around my house?”
“I thought it was my house, too.”
“That was before you got married.” She says it with a smile. “It’s time to build your own home now.”
I shake my head slowly. “She signed the divorce papers. She’s done.”