Finding my Limit

I lean back in the booth and watch my girlfriend of almost ten years quietly, I don’t think she’s noticed that I can read her screen in the reflection off the window beside us quite yet.

Which I mean to be fair, valid, most people can’t read backwards up close much less at a distance but almost three decades of being dyslexic means I’ve figured out how to read forward, backward, upside down, at an angle.

And okay so some of this ability stems from trying to read what shrinks and doctors were saying about me, and then counselors, therapists, teachers. You get the idea. I never said I was a normal happy go lucky kid. So yeah, the perks I have now are all left over from that time.

From a time when my mind was a warzone and my homelife was so shit the state had to step in and help my mom figure out how to be a mom.

But now I’m doing much better; I have my diploma, I have a steady job making good fucking money, I have a girlfriend who has recently become my fiancé. Seriously things are so much better than they were when I was younger. Less unstable, less confusing.

Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. But as Delilah laughs at her phone and fires off another text while nibbling at the fries on my plate despite having said she didn’t want fucking fries I glance at the reflection for maybe the hundredth time.

David.

My high school nemesis. And okay, is that dramatic, calling him my nemesis? Sure, but we were fucking dramatic back then. The man and his friends had jumped me on the walk home once because he thought I’d looked at him ‘gay’ if that doesn’t garner ‘nemesis’ level ire I don’t know what should.

And Delilah knows all of that, she knows the hell they put me through because she was there for it she was my best friend through all of it. its part of how we ended up together.

So why, why is she texting David and giggling, quite literally in the middle of my birthday dinner. More importantly why doesn’t it bother me more that she’s clearly cheating on me and not just the fact that it’s David. Somehow this moment wouldn’t hurt anywhere near as much if I didn’t see his stupid face in the chat bubble. If I didn’t know the man she was currently sexting was the same man who’s beaten me black and blue in ninth grade. Who shoved me into the wall or the lockers any time he walked by.

“Delilah?” I call her name and lean forward on my elbows keeping my eyes fixed on her face my expression as neutral as I can. She glances up for a moment, barely, before looking back down at her phone.

“Hmm?” not even an actual word. Just a noise. She can’t even be bothered to open her mouth.

Why did you even say yes?

“I’ve been thinking about the past a lot. About how we ended up together. And I keep getting caught on something that confuses me.” this isn’t just theater it really is something that I thought about for weeks after she agreed to date me senior year.

She glances up again raising an eyebrow before her eyes drop back down.

“You told me that you had a crush on someone, but that if you told me I’d hate you.” I pause letting the words sink in. she glances up again and frowns her fingers flying over the keyboard before her screen darkens.

Hold on he’s being dramatic AGAIN.

I swallow taking a slow breath in.

“who was it? Because I can only think of one person that would have made me hate you back then if you had a crush on them.” I pop a fry in my mouth and watch her face. first it’s worry, then it shifts, disbelief and distain, before a look of hurt that looks about as real as a Halloween wig settles.

“Why are you doing this Bash?” She pouts crossing her arms and pushing her chest up. She still hasn’t figured out that doesn’t work on me. “we’re having a nice dinner, you just turned twenty-eight, you just made management at the shop, we’re getting married in six months. so why are you picking apart our happy life.”

Because I’m not happy? Because you’ve spent the whole time we’ve been here texting the guy who absolutely tortured me throughout high school? Because we haven’t had sex in almost a year and even though you’re the one who pulled away I’m not even bothered by it?

“Because you’ve been distracted lately and I can’t help but wonder if you would have preferred someone else but settled for me.” my voice is carefully neutral. Not trying to sway her one way or the other.

Her screen flashes only lighting up for a moment a message from David.

You should leave his ass and bring yours here.

“Dee you were my best friend back then, and then I fell in love with you and when you agreed I was over the moon so I didn’t want to question it. So I- but recently you’ve been distant. You haven’t initiated anything, not sex, not conversation, not even a fucking argument to tell me what a fucking idiot I am about something. And I’d rather you be with who you and us stay friends than for you to marry me and hate me.” I pushed a fry around my plate with another fry, this shouldn’t feel okay. it shouldn’t feel okay to tell my girlfriend of ten years to go be with someone else. It should tear me to pieces, yet the only thing that hurts is that she’s already choosing David.

“Bash I don’t want anyone else.” Her words are honeyed her voice soft. And suddenly I’m not okay.

“Then why have you been sexing David fucking Beckett since we got here?” I snap the words across the low lit table just as another text comes through and her incredulous.

“That’s ridiculous!” hisses out.

Why does he look pissed. What did you say?

My eyes widen and I look up glancing around behind her. There in the corner of the room near the restrooms. I snort and roll my eyes.

“Ridiculous huh? Go ahead, answer him. Let him know I figured it out because you forgot something about your best friend.” She frowned and glanced at the phone then back up at me.

“I haven’t forgotten anything Bash, I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Why the fuck is that cocksucker looking at me.

This time the ding makes her look down again and I smile.

“Go on, tell him I looked at him because you forgot I can read backward.” I motion to the window beside us, to the reflection of the phone bright and accusatory in the darkness. She glanced between me and the reflection. Then I looked up at David and waved before curling a finger to motion him towards us.

Delilah paled, David grinned and shoved up from his chair. I kept a neutral smile on my face until he stood by our table. Then I pushed back and motioned him toward my seat.

“We just ordered dessert, chocolate cake for two.” I motion him again when he doesn’t move stepping back smiling wider.

“Go on, it’s not a test. I’m stepping back, giving her up. I’m not going to fight to stay with someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me, why should I. I’d rather have my friend back than a distant girlfriend who won’t even touch me.” I Shrug as if I’m completely unaffected. As if the idea of David Beckett taking this seat doesn’t make my stomach curl. But that’s it, that’s the only thing that upsets me about stepping back. the person whos stepping in makes me sick, not that someone is.

I take a few steps away before he speaks up.

“So you’re just gonna leave one of us with the check then?” his voice grates along my nerves and I glance at him.

“You just managed to ruin my birthday dinner and get my girlfriend, I think you can afford to pay for my dinner.” I scoff before waving them off. Delilah calls my name, but it feels perfunctory. Like she’s only doing it because it’s expected not because she actually wants me to turn around.

I pause and look at her taking a slow breath.

“Give me a few months D, get over the betrayal that it was fucking David you were mooning over and cheating on me with. Then we can go back.”

As I push my way out of the restaurant I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up my mom’s number shooting her a text I never thought I’d send.

‘Do you still have the phone number for the therapist I saw back in high school?’

The answer is quick, she must have already been on her phone.

Mom:‘No, they closed down. you’ll have to find someone else. Why? the urges back?’

I frown at her message and groan.

‘No, my girlfriend was cheating on me with David Beckett. I find that kind of distressing and figured I’d hire someone to talk it out with instead of letting it spiral that far.’

Mom:‘let me talk to Naomi and see if she can get you something set up.’

‘thanks mom.’

I laugh as she sends a thumbs up and lock the phone my fingers tracing over the thin raised lines that pattern the inside of my left forearm hidden under chaotic inked sleeves the itch that had been under my skin since I’d read the first line of Delilah’s conversation growing louder.

I just have to hold out until Naomi finds someone for me to talk to, that’s all. I give myself twenty-four hours. If Naomi hasn’t helped me make an appointment by then or given me a solid lead by then, then I’ll reassess.