Page 60 of The Intimacy of Control

“I thought he really liked me, too. Guess we were both wrong.”

Andros sighed and sat in the chair behind him. “I really am sorry. If there’s anything you need, I got you. You sure you wanna work today?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I may be a hopeless romantic, but I’m not that hopeless. I’ll work in the back. Let me know if things get too packed up here.”

“You got it.”

Drowning myself in organizing books sounded like the worst and best idea ever. I didn’t even know where my glasses were, so I was bound to give myself a headache by the time I was done with the first box. I wasn’t about to ask Andros where they were, though.

Drown myself, I did. At least, until I opened up a box and saw Double Coverage sitting in it. Yep. That did it. My eyes went all blurry again, which was not something that needed to happen right now. No, I needed to get my shit together.

But how could I when it felt like my heart was breaking right down the center?

I needed to power through. That’s all. I needed time, and I needed to power through and pretend like everything was fine because it was. It was fine. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fucking fine. I had to convince myself that.

Everything was not fine. I was barely hanging on. My chest felt heavy. I felt so out of place, like I didn’t belong in the spaces that I’d built.

It reminded me of my childhood in the worst way possible. I was into nerdy stuff, but I wasn’t nerdy enough for the nerd crowd. I played chess, but I wasn’t good enough at it to be part of the chess crowd. I tried seeking out other second or third-generation kids, but more often than not, they’d make fun of me like all the other kids. They’d call me a “pocho” or cling onto some reason to keep ragging on me publicly. Others wouldn’t have the same interests or personalities, so we’d always clash, and any friendship I’d try to start would sizzle and burn before it began.

I didn’t fit in. I learned how to be by myself, and being by myself absolutely sucked when I was the most extroverted person I knew. I had River, Mamá, and…no one else. No one else was willing to choose me. Everyone was always so damn mean and avoidant of me.

I’d made a promise to myself in middle school to be the nicest, most outgoing version of myself I could be. I didn’t want anyone to ever feel how I constantly felt. I let myself be happy, and I talked to everyone as if they were my best friend.

Once I’d gone into high school, I thought it’d make things different. The only thing that’d changed was that people were fueled by hormones and very much wanted to sleep with me but never wanted a relationship. Or friendship. Or anything but a one-night stand.

Jack didn’t choose me. Just like everyone else used to do.

It hurt. It fucking hurt, and it hurt even worse because I didn’t choose him either; he was shown to me by the forces that be. He came into my life, and something told my heart that he was it, and I believed it.

Pride and Pages closed in an hour. I needed to get out. I was a fucking mess. I quickly walked to the front desk, stopping in front of Andros. “I need to go to the gym. You good?”

He could tell I was losing my grip. I could see it in his eyes. “Yeah, boss. I got you. Take care of yourself, and I’ll hold it down here.”

Thank God. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to hold myself together, but at least I could count on him to keep the store from falling apart.

I got in my car, fully prepared to speed my way to the gym. I thought maybe I’d outrun the tiny tears that kept trying to build their way up in my eyes even though I didn’t want them. I thought I’d be fast enough.

I didn’t drive to the gym.

I found myself pulling into Mamá’s driveway. I basically watched myself walk into the house, not even sure if she was there. She shouldn’t be working, but I didn’t know whether she had more errands to run after or not. I was operating on pure hope.

“Forrest?”

She was sitting on the couch next to River, a photo book open on her lap. There were hundreds of photos of me and Riv when we were kids in there. At the very front were the few photos we had of us and Papá before he’d died.

River took one long, good look at me. I was expecting something borderline mean to come out of his mouth. Instead, he scooted down to the other side of the couch, putting room between him and Mamá. “Come on, mano.”

Mamá leaned forward, placing the book on the table. “What’s wrong, mijo? Come sit.”

My body was working on autopilot. I walked across the living room and sat right between them. I didn’t have it in me to look at either of them. Not when River had been right about me being a hopeless romantic. Not when Mamá had held her tongue when she’d found out how old Jack was.

I cleared my throat and looked down at my hands. “I guess Jack wasn’t the one.”

There was a beat of silence. It seemed to go on forever. Far too long. It was thick, almost suffocating. It ate away at me until Mamá’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me into her. “Tell me what happened.”

I leaned my head against her shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I do, but not really. He said he wanted to be with me. Go on a date with me. And then something happened, and I woke up to a text saying he doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

“That pendejo.” River leaned against me, resting his head on my shoulder like I was doing to Mamá.