The Roommate, Kiersten Modglin [best books for 20 year olds .txt] 📗

could I see her next weekend? If you aren’t going to let me come home, I want to figure out when I’ll be able to see my daughter next.”

“Well, that depends. Have you gotten your own place?” she asked, resting a hand on the countertop with an exhausted look in her eyes.

My heart sank. My own place? “No, not yet. I…I mean, I was waiting to see what you wanted me to do. It’s not that serious yet, is it? I mean, for me to get my own place, I’d need to sign a lease. That would mean at least a year apart—I might get lucky with six months, but there’s no guarantee. Do you really think we’re ready to commit to that? A lot can happen in a year.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but if you want to see her, it really seems like our only option. That’s why I’d offered for Rory and me to move in with Mom. You could move back here, and—”

“I’ve told you I don’t want that. This is Rory’s home. It’s your home. I don’t want to uproot you both. It’s not an option.”

She pursed her lips. “I understand that. And I appreciate it, but Rory doesn’t want to come visit you at that motel, and I don’t blame her. I could probably talk her into spending the day with you if you want to take her shopping or something, but she’s not going to come stay with you, Wes. Not at that place.”

“It’s not like I want to be there either. It’s not exactly my dream.” I steadied my breathing, watching as she ran her hands over a few stray pieces of her blonde hair. She tried to tuck them back into her ponytail carefully, busying herself with the smoothie once again. “You didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out. “Do you think we’re ready to commit to a year apart? Why can’t I just move back in and stay in the guest room? The only reason I can think of is if you’re sure we’re not going to be able to work things out. Is that what this is? Is this…are we done?”

“Wes, look…” She hung her head down, inhaling deeply, her shoulders hunched. “I know you aren’t ready for this conversation, but nothing has changed for me”—my heart leapt—“since the night I asked you to leave”—and fell again. “I don’t know if there’s a future for us, but I don’t see it right now. I don’t see it in the next few months, or even in the next year. I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I want you to get your own place. If you don’t want us to move in with Mom, you need to get yourself settled in somewhere. Someplace with enough space for Rory to visit. Someplace with enough room for your things. We have to start moving forward in one direction or the other.”

Just like that, I was back there the night of our last fight. I relived the moment she’d asked me to move out with tears streaming down her cheeks. The missed dinner reservations. The silent house I’d walked into, flipping on the light to find her sitting in the dark, staring across the room. She was empty. Emotionless. I’d done that to her.

“I know I hurt you, Addy. I know I messed up, but come on. We aren’t there. It isn't that bad. We can still fix this.”

“The fact that you can even say that to me with a straight face proves that we aren’t in the same marriage, Wes. We are that bad. This bad. We’ve fallen apart. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve waited up for you, how many soccer games and spelling bees and parents nights you’ve missed for our daughter. You pulled her away from her friends so we could live here. You pulled me away from a career I loved—”

“How can you say that? You’re still a teacher—”

“I loved what I was doing there, though, Wes. I loved teaching at my old school. This place, this area—it’s not me. It’s not us. But you don’t see that. You never have. You wanted to be here because you wanted to fit in with the people you work with, and you know what? Congratulations, you do! But we don’t. You promised me when we moved here nothing would change, but everything has changed. Including you. Rory is starving herself and being bullied at school for liking sports more than shopping, and you couldn’t make time in your schedule to come to even a single therapy session for her—”

“I said I was sorry for that. You know I tried to make it—”

“Yes, I know you were sorry. I know you are sorry. You’re always sorry, Wes. But at some point, sorry stops being enough.”

“Let me go now. Let me take her. I’ll do whatever you want—”

“I don’t need you to go now, Wes,” she said, cutting me off. “We both needed you then. The point is that so much has gone wrong since we’ve moved here, and we aren’t happy anymore. Between Rory’s health and her being bullied, and the fact that you’ve made me start going to these lavish yoga studios and gala events, even though I’d much rather be running bake sales with the kids back home and helping tutor after school. You want us to be these new versions of ourselves, versions you envisioned, but I liked who we used to be. Rory and I loved what we had before, and you took that away from us.”

I stepped toward her. “You can’t put all of that on me. You agreed—”

She put a hand on my chest, stopping me from going any further. “I did. I did agree. I’ve always wanted what was best for you. I wanted you to be happy, and I thought that would make me happy enough. I’m not trying to play the martyr here, Wes.