CHAPTER 133 — The Decision

CHAPTER 133 — The Decision

Lisa's POV

I have no idea how long I’m standing out on the street.

Long enough for the neighbors’ lights to go out again. Long enough for the chill to sink into my flesh to the marrow, and then I shiver. Long enough for my tears to dry up on my cheeks, making them tight and itchy.

Long enough to know that Leo is not coming back this evening.

Slowly my feet take charge and lead me towards the house on their oown. /I/step through the door I’d left open in my frantic pursuit of him, and the quiet within strikes me as somehow different now. Heavier. Emptier.

This is what the house is like without Leo.
That’s what my life feels like/tastes like with - without you.

I close the door and lock it, then lean back against it as I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor just inside the door. The same spot I sat this morning after he left angry. Except this is worse. So much worse.

This morning, I still believed I could make it right. That I could seize the right words at the right time to tell him everything and make him understand. I just don’t know if there’s anything to fix.

I have to decide if this – if we – are worth fighting for.

His words reverberate in my mind, bringing new tears to my eyes. How did we end up this way? How did I let it get so bad that Leo - Leo is the one who loves me unconditionally, hasn't given me one reason to doubt him - is the one that wonders if our relationship is even worth the effort?

I know how.
Andre.

His name is like poison in my head.

I haul myself off the ground, my legs trembling, and head upstairs. Every step is like a mountain to climb. When I get to our room, mine and Leo’s, I pause in the doorway.

The bed is still a mess from this morning, the sheets rumpled from last night’s restless sleeping. Leo's pillow still has the imprint of his head. The book he was reading last week is on his nightstand, bookmark still in place, waiting for him to come back and finish it.

Will he come back?

The thought makes my chest clench so tightly.
I go over to the bed and drop down on it, drawing Leo's pillow to me. It smells like him — like cologne and laundry detergent and some thing that’s just Leo. I bury my face in it and collapse, my body shaking as I sob so hard. 

What have I done?
What was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking. That's the problem. I let Andre back into my life, I allowed him to occupy space in my mind, I permitted him to come between me and Leo. And for what? 

For a man who doesn’t deserve a single thought from me.

For a man who has already shattered me once and is now breaking me apart again.

I weep until there is no more crying to do, until I have a headache and can barely see through my swollen eyes. And then I just lie there, clutching Leo’s pillow, not seeing anything.

The house is so quiet. Too quiet. I can usually hear Leo moving around—brewing coffee in the kitchen, watching TV in the basement, humming in the shower. The house feels alive when he’s here.

Now it seems lifeless.

I slowly sit up, wiping at my face with my hands. My phone is still on the ground floor where I left it, probably littered with a bunch more missed calls from Andre.

Andre.

He should not have been put in this position.
No. That’s not right. This is my error. I’m the one who agreed to meet him. I’m the one who lied to Leo. I’m the one who let this happen.
But Andre started it.

After three years of silence, he called me out of the blue. Brought me back into his Arabian nights. He asked me to do him a favor when he has no business asking me for anything.

And I let him. And I let him.

I let him back into my life. Let him make me doubt myself, question myself, become estranged from, and the man I love. Question myself, and pull a wedge between me and the man I love.

Why? The question presses in my chest. Why did I agree to meet him? Why did I think about helping him? Why did I hide it from Leo?

I've been pondering these question for a week, and I still don't have a lucid response.

Part of me wanted him to suffer. Wanted to watch him beg. Wanted it to prove that leaving me was the biggest error of his life.

Part of me wanted to be the bigger person. To show him I am strong enough, successful enough, happy enough to give him a hand, even when he doesn’t deserve it.

And part of me — a part I hate to admit really exists — wanted his approval. Wanted him to see what he lost. Craved mistaken identity from the man who once made me feel so little.

But none of that is relevant, now.

It’s not worth it. It is all too much for me to take in. I clutch the pillow closer, fresh tears are on the brink of spilling out. I won’t let this be ruined by Andre. I'm not going to let him ruin the best thing that's ever happened to me. He already ruined me once. 

I spent two years putting myself back together, learning to trust again, learning to love again. Then Leo came along and made me whole again. Helped make me see I was worth loving, worth cherishing, worth fighting for.

And now Andre is back, and he’s looking to take all of that down.

No.
The word forms in my mind, Firm and Certain.
No more. I place Leo's pillow gently, then rise. My legs feel sturdy now, my determination intensifies with every breath.

I'm done letting Andre have power over my life. Done letting him occupy space in my brain. Done letting him wedge himself between me and Leo.

He needs to go back where he is from.
In my day. Hes been there for three years. Where he should have stayed forever. 

I walk downstairs with purpose now, my bare feet padding against the wooden floor. My cellphone is still on the coffee table where Leo abandoned it following that crushing call.

I grab it and start scrolling through the notifications. Six missed calls from Unknown Number. Three text messages.

Lisa, please call me back. Perhaps you could also let me know if you are safe.

We should discuss scheduling. I'm running out of options.
Please. I’m at my wits’ end. Just tell me if I can help, or not.

I’m staring at the messages, and instead of the guilt IÕve been feeling all week I just feel anger. White-hot, clarifying anger.

Who dares.

Who dares to reintroduce himself into my life and expect me to drop everything to help him. Who dare he want me to use my relationship, my connections, my happiness to fix his problems.
Problems he engineered.

A failing business? That’s on him. A failing marriage? And he gambled and lost. He made his choices. He left me for my stepsister, demolished our marriage, and smashed my trust.
And now he expects me to save him? 

No.

I can't do anything for you. We don’t get to name what we want from each other. Lose this number. Lose my name. Stay out of my life.

After reading it once, I press send before I can start doubting it.

This feels good. Liberating. Like I’ve finally taken back control. But I’m not through.

I block the number, then delete all his messages. Every call, every text, every trace of him from my phone. It takes less than a minute to remove him entirely.

It should have taken me a minute last week.
I should have done this the minute he called.
But I didn’t. And now maybe I lost Leo because of it.

The anger drains away, replaced by fear. Cold, visceral fear that I have ruined everything. That Leo won't forgive me. That he’ll determine I’m not worth the trouble, not worth the pain, not worth fighting for. I fall back on the couch, phone in my hand.

Now what do I do?

I can’t call Leo. He said he needed space, needed time to think. If I push him now, I’ll just make things worse.

But I can’t just sit here and do nothing while our relationship crumbles. 

I need to demonstrate to him that he is the one I choose. That I have always chosen him. That Andre is nothing to me.

But how?

Words are not going to cut it. Not after lying for a week. I have to make it real.

I look down at my phone, my screen now blank where Andre’s messages had been. (I prefer plain text answers for deep reading at pace.)

He's gone now. Blocked. Deleted. Down where the whores and pimps live and die.

But Leo doesn’t know that.

I have to tell him. I need to tell him I didn’t just bring Andre into my life, I took him out completely. That I'm through with the past and ready to fight for our future."

If there is still a future for us.

It’s the thought that makes my chest ache, but I shove it away. I position can't think like that. Couldn’t give up, not before I’ve even tried to fix this.

I open my messages and type in Leo's name. My fingers hover over the keyboard.

What do I say? How do I say in a text message that I’ve figured out what I really want? That I've chosen him, will always choose him, that I'm sorry for being so stupid and blind?

I begin typing a few times, deleting each time. Nothing sounds right. Nothing expresses how deeply I regret this, how much I love him, how desperately I need to fix this mess.

Eventually, I decide on something plain:
I'm sorry. For everything. I put a block on Andre. He's gone. You're all that matters. When you’re ready, please come home. I love you.

I went through it three times, then hit send. 

The message goes through, but he doesn’t immediately respond. No three dots for typing. Just silence.

I put the phone down and turn my knees to my chest, my arms encircling them.

Now I wait.

Wait for Leo to decide whether I'm worthy of his forgiveness.Wait to find out if I have blown us up too thoroughly.

Wait to find out if I have at last learned that lesson — the past must be left behind, and the only thing that has any meaning is what is takes hold of. That life I had built. The man I love.

The man I might have just lost.

I close my eyes and say a prayer to whomever it is that’s listening.

PLEASE. Let him please forgive me. Please let me fix this one. Please, don’t let Andre take this from me, too.

It was as though the house was holding its breath, responding with silence no answers no consolation.

Just emptiness where Leo should be.
But Andre is at least away.

At least I finally did the right thing.
I just hope I didn’t make it too late.