Page 16 of Carter

I ignore the tug at my heart and tell myself I’m not in the mood for her games. “Sasha. I know you’re in here. Come out, now.”

The stall door unlocks. She steps out.

She’s a wreck.

Her hair is falling down around her shoulders. Her face is red. Her eyes puffy. When she holds her left hand up to wipe away a tear, the sight of her ringless finger makes my gut clench.

I keep my distance. I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to leave,” she whispers.

“Why? So you can sleep on a mat again?” I ask.

She won’t look at me. “All my friends are… in the Village. You know I can’t go there.”

I say, “I’ve already booked you a hotel. I was going to text you the details as soon as I locked up.”

“Why didn’t you just tell them to me in person?” she asks.

I don’t answer.

Her gaze searches mine. I can’t hide my sadness as I look back at her. She replies with a soft, “Oh.”

“Let’s go. I’m ready to go home,” I say.

Home.

The word hangs in the air between us.

Every night before we leave, I say, “Let’s go, baby girl. I’m ready to take you home.” But I can’t say that now. And, I realize what I’ve just said is… just too close to that. “I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” she says.

“I’ll take you to the hotel,” I offer.

“It’s alright. I’d rather stay here. I don’t want to spend your money,” she says.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t staying in the gym. Sleeping on the floor,” I say.

Her eyes lock on mine, cutting me. “What does it matter to you? We aren’t together anymore.”

I want to say, let’s stop this. Call in our order of sweet and sour chicken and wonton soup to Chang’s and get the hell out of here. I’m ready to take you home, baby girl.

Instead, I say, “You will take the hotel. And that’s final.”

She gives me a long look. What choice does she have? I own the gym. She has nowhere to go.

“Fine. But I can get a cab,” she says.

Like hell.

“My driver will take you.” I give her such a hard stare that for once in her life, she doesn’t argue with me.

We make our way silently through the dark halls. I toss the sweatshirt into the lost and found bin. I walk her to the side door, the one that leads to the street. I press my thumb on the pad. The doors open. We wait together in the outdoor vestibule. A place where we’ve stumbled home on drunken nights and couldn’t wait to get home before we put our hands on each other. A place we’ve kissed, fucked.

The very same place she got the phone call that her grandmother passed away. I held her as she cried, my back pressed against the stone wall. Her face buried in my chest. My chin resting on the top of her head.

An awkward, heavy silence sits between us. Part of me wants to grab her. Kiss her. Part of me wants to scream at her, Why are you choosing this? Why are you ending us? Why can’t you be the woman you’d promised me you’d be?