“Perfect.”
Not perfect. Terrible. Because I had to tell him. But maybe it was perfect because I needed to get this over with. This way, I wouldn’t agonize for days.
I nodded in the direction we needed to go, and together we fell into step. My palms felt sweaty and itchy. The last time he’d met me after my shift, he’d taken my hand in his. I wished it could be that easy now. I yearned to recapture the electric jolt that I always felt at his touch. The charge around us was driving me crazy, needing something to ground it.
But we weren’t the couple we’d been, which was weird to think, because we’d never been a “couple” at all, and in many ways we were in the same place we’d been then—both of us feeling each other out, trying to decide if we had anything between us. So it was both apropos and not when he kept his hands to himself, thrust inside his pants pockets.
We rounded Columbus Circle in silence and started down the short edge of Central Park, joining the early morning joggers and dog walkers as the sun stretched its first limbs across the earth. I felt like that sun, like I was waking and reaching. Reaching for JC who was still closed off and dark.
I needed to tell him. I was going to tell him.
But I had other things to say first. And, when he still hadn’t said anything by the time we’d reached Center Drive, I plunged in. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Look, I’m sorry about—” he began at the same time. We did the nervous laugh thing. Then he said, “Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who needs to apologize.”
“I was so terrible, though.” Even more terrible was us tripping all over each other to be polite. That’s what strangers did.
Oh, yeah. That’s what we were.
“You weren’t. You’re mad and you have every right to be.” He’d been staring at his shoes, but now he peered over at me. “I’ve thought about that. I want you to know that I have. I understand…”
He paused, and I felt so uncomfortable with where he was going, with the serious undertone of it, that I jumped in. “It doesn’t mean that I—”
He stepped in front of me and cut off both my words and my steps. “Let me say this. Please.” He waited for me to nod. “I understand what I put you through. It was unfair and you deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved like I did. And when I said I wanted to free you from my baggage, that’s what I meant. That I wanted to keep you out of the trial. I wanted to keep you safe. I put you in danger and I’m sorry about that. I’ve been sick about it this whole last year.”
Now that I had the apology I’d wanted, I didn’t know what to do with it. I swallowed. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He stepped aside so we could resume walking.
So I wasn’t the only one with guilt. Why didn’t that make me feel better?
Because I had my own confessing to do.
I waited a beat, though, and it was enough time for him to say more.
“I know that I owe you other words as well. Lots of them. I just don’t know which ones to begin with.”
“Any of them. There’s so much I don’t know. You could start anywhere.” Or I could start. “The video…” Honestly, it wasn’t what I’d meant to say, but it was what came out.
He waved his hand dismissively. “I’d be fine if we never mentioned that.”
“Oh.” I got it if he was embarrassed. But was it, instead, because he didn’t want to marry me anymore?
Maybe it was best to not mention it. Except I already had. “Thank you, though. For sending it to me. It made a difference.” Like that was any better. I was sure he hadn’t been looking for a vague token of appreciation. I just couldn’t give him anything clearer when I still wasn’t sure what he’d wanted me to gain from it.
He ran his hand through his hair and chuckled, the sound tickling places inside me that I couldn’t identify. “Well. Good. I suppose that’s good.”
“It’s good.” We hit a green light at the corner and started to cross the street in silence. I’ll tell him when we get to the other side, I told myself.
I didn’t. I had no excuse. There were so many things I wanted to hear from him that the things I needed to say felt secondary. I was selfish. I wanted to linger in his apologies, in his confessions. He was willing to talk right now. It might not be the case after I said my words.
So I prodded him on. “Will you explain what happened? Not with—” I paused, afraid it was somehow irreverent to say her name. “I mean, I heard your testimony. But what happened after?”