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“Are you feeling better now?” Chris asks when I step out of the bathroom. I stare out the window, as if the threat Marco warned me about is behind the cabin as we speak. The lake is calm, but my emotions are anything but.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have done anything without asking you first.”
I don’t know what to say. Can’t even imagine where I’m supposed to begin. My brother’s words are echoing in my ears. Words I’d never expect to believe. Except I do believe them.
“Is this about my dad?” Chris asks. “He really doesn’t care what I do. And if he does, I’m graduating in a week. He can’t dictate my life.”
“What about your sister?” The longer we can keep this conversation focused on his family, the longer I have to compose my emotions. Get a hold of my thoughts. Decide how to escape. My eyes dart everywhere. I never noticed before just how many windows our cabin has.
“I’ve already called Gabrielle’s grandma and told her everything. I can’t explain it, Mia, but this is something I really need to do. I can’t be afraid of him all my life. Gabrielle’s grandma says she’ll watch her. Or maybe I’ll even move her in with me. I don’t know. I just know that I have to do this. And I want you to be there with me.”
It’s this last part that makes me finally break down into tears. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything.
It’s my fault, really. He’s told me everything about his family. Everything.
And he still knows nothing about mine.
“It isn’t going to work,” I tell him, burying my head against his chest. My body is trembling, but he feels strong against me.
Chris kisses the top of my head. I wish I could protect him from what I’m about to say.
I realize it would be infinitely easier if he broke up with me, and in that instant I know what I have to do. Know exactly what I have to say.
I pull away from him, not because I don’t need his strength. I do. But I’m going to have to rely on my own determination and willpower now. I can’t lean on him. Not anymore.
I make my way out the back door. Head toward the lake. He chases after me, just like I knew he would.
Halfway to the dock, I find my voice. “I can’t marry you, Chris. I’m sorry. It just won’t work.”
“I know.” He’s following me toward the water now, hasty in his attempts to reassure me. “That was impulsive. That was stupid. I have no idea why I even said those things earlier. Let’s just forget it.”
I keep my back to him so he can’t see the tears streaking down my cheeks. I can’t show him my face or he’ll know. He’ll know and then he’ll try to protect me, try to make it right, and then we’re both as good as dead.
The only thing I can do now is send him away, no matter how hard it hurts. No matter how much it kills me.
I take a deep breath. Ball my hands into fists. I think about what my brother just told me. I’ve got to do this.
“I can’t marry you.” I try to make my voice sound fierce, angry, but I’m not sure it works. I have to do a better job selling it. “I can’t marry you,” I repeat, more firmly this time.
He reaches out. Tries to grab me by the shoulder. I fling his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” I snap.
“Hey.” He holds his hands up in innocence. “It’s me. You know I would never hurt you.”
He’s forcing me to face him. Forcing me to look into his ... No. I can’t. I can’t do this. Not when he’s staring at me like that.
The water from the lake looms large and dangerous in my spinning field of vision. Mom was right. We’re not safe here. What was I thinking? We should head toward the woods. Why did I lead us right to the lake? I spin around and stride toward the trees. Got to keep Chris behind me. Got to keep my eyes hidden or else he’ll know.
“Hey.” He’s sprinting to keep up. Why does he have to be so devoted? “Mia, wait.”
I stop but keep my body angled so he’s staring at the back of my shoulder. I cross my arms. Tell myself I have to be strong. Remind myself that this is for him.
Everything I’m about to do, it’s all for him.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I stammer. It’ll be easiest for him if I make him mad. If I act irrationally, if I provoke him right where it kills him the most, his love will turn to hate. Even someone as kind and good-hearted as Chris.
I hope.
“Are you mad at me for proposing?” he asks. “If you don’t want to get married now, that’s fine. We don’t have to rush things. We don’t have to ...”
“I’m not going to marry you ever,” I bark, inhaling sharply to try to steady my nerves. I sense him taking a step back as if I’ve given him a physical blow, but I don’t turn to look.
“Because of my dad?” His voice is pained. Close to its breaking point. This isn’t working.
“Yes, because of your dad.” Once we’re standing by our deck, I turn to face him. It’s not hard pretending to be angry. In fact, I’m not pretending at all. The only difference is I’m not angry with him.
I just have to sell it. Got to be convincing.
Got to get him to storm off into those woods.
Please, God, I beg.
“Listen,” Chris is pleading. “I already told you, he doesn’t care what I do anymore. If you’re worried that he’s going to keep on giving us trouble ...”
“It’s not that, Chris.” I spit out his name like a curse. “It’s not just your dad.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t want to be with you, okay? I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and it’s not going to work out. I’m going to New York in the fall. I’m going to become a doctor. I don’t ... I can’t ...”
I see the pain flash in his eyes as realization hits for the first time. “Is that what this is about?”
Sell it, Mia, I coax myself. “Think about it. You ever heard of a pastor married to an MD? What would people think? Listen. I’m going to school. I’m not wasting my life passing out bulletins at the back of a sanctuary and teaching Sunday school every single weekend. That’s not the life I want.”
I’ve got him. The pain in his expression is so intense I could reach my hand out and squeeze it. Now I’ve just got to push him over one more edge. Push him toward anger.
This is for him, I remind myself. You have to do this if you want to protect him.
If life was fair, I would be wearing Chris’s ring right now. I’d tell him I didn’t care about what his dad thought or said. Chris and I could move to New York together. Get married. Share an apartment. I could still go to school. We’d find money somewhere if he wanted to go to Bible college or wherever it is pastors get their training.
I can see Chris as a pastor. And I can see myself as a pastor’s wife, notwithstanding the lies I’ve just told him.
I can see it. And the picture is beautiful.
But it’s not a picture that’s meant for us.
We’re right on the edge. There’s not going to be any recovery from this. The merciful thing now is to finish what I’ve started. Get it over and done with.
For his own good.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t want to do this until after graduation, but we need to end things.”
Chris’s face is so pained I can hardly breathe. I know I’ll remember that expression every single day of my life. I take one more step back, sidling up to the deck.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” is all I can get out, “but when all is said and done, it’s really for the best.”
Chris reaches out to grab my hand, but I yank it a way with a terse, “Just go away.”
He takes another step closer.
“Don’t touch me.” I push him. Hard. He loses his balance. His hands reach forward, grabbing for me. I reach out, but momentum and gravity are my two worst enemies. I’m falling backward. My head hits something hard.
For a terrifying second, I don’t see anything.
Next thing I know, Chris is kneeling down beside me. “Mia, are you okay? Hold on. Let me check your head. Don’t move.”
“Wait,” I croak. There are tears on my cheeks, but it’s impossible to tell if they’re mine or his.
“Shh.” He whispers. “We’ll talk about us later. Right now, I just want to see if you’re hurt. Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I just want to look and see ...”
He puts his hand to the back of my head, and his expression changes from pain to surprise to fear. He pulls his fingers away from me, fingers covered in blood.
“This is my fault,” he says. “Hold on. Let me get my phone. Should I call 911?”
“Just go,” I whisper. I can’t tell if I’m light-headed at the sight of so much blood or if it’s a result of the injury itself. I know how bad this looks. “Just go,” I prompt him. “You need to leave me. Someone’s coming ...”
And then I pass out.