The Science of Growing Apart

29- Morning

 I woke up the next morning on Casey's couch.

When we got back to his house last night, it really wasn't that late yet, so we stayed up watching movies with popcorn and soda. We didn't talk about what happened in the car at all and kept to separate sides of he couch and we laughed, joked around, talked through the boring parts. We had a good time, just like we always could. The last thing I remembered was Mulan returning home from war as my eyes fluttered shut on his throw pillow.

"Good morning," his voice rang through my groggy memories as my head lifted from that very same pillow, a soft blanket now thrown over my shoulders that wasn't there when I dozed off. "Want some coffee?"

I didn't know where his voice was coming from, so I just said, "No thanks."

"Was the couch okay?" he asked as I slowly sat up more and found him standing in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. "I would have given you the bed, but I was too drunk to carry you."

"It was fine," I promised him, and it was. The cushions were thick and wide, making for a very comfortable night's sleep.

We were both sober now, so I wondered if our conversation at the car would come up. He seemed comfortable, like nothing was out of the ordinary. Not awkward or like he had something he wanted to say. I thought we should have a discussion about it, but I had no idea how that discussion should start.

"Thanks for saving me last night," he said as he came into the living room with two bowls of cereal. He handed me one and sat the other on his glass coffee table before returning to the kitchen for his coffee. "I wish I could have made something more impressive, but I haven't been to the grocery store in a couple of weeks."

Still feeling groggy and discombobulated, I slowly started to eat the cereal and look around the very neatly decorated apartment. The minimalism is such a stark and humorous contrast to the maxamalist clutter that was my apartment. His walls were barely decorated, all of his shelves were neatly organized. It was all very Casey.

"Any plans for the day?" I asked him as I chewed.

"Cleaning out the rest of Rebecca's things. What about you?"

"I'm going to my dad's house for dinner with Diana."

Things were starting to get awkward, which I didn't want, but I also didn't know how to address. How does one bring up a conversation in which we played over video footage of me admitting that I thought about him when I was... self servicing. Just thinking about that memory from last night made my stomach flip so harshly that I was becoming nauseous.

"So are you going to see her again?" I asked him. "To drop off her stuff?"

"I should, right? That would be the grown up thing to do," he said with a nod, but then added, "But I'm just going to box it up and FedEx it to her apartment because I'm too much of a chicken shit to deliver it myself."

"It's probably best to avoid contact for a while anyway," I said between bites of cereal. "If she's angry about what happened."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess it's a pretty big relief that we never moved in together, this would all be so much more awkward."

"And that you didn't move to Baltimore for her," I added.

He laughed, shaking his head at me and said, "I was never going to move to Baltimore."

I made the mistake of glancing down at his hand as he lifted it with his spoon toward his mouth and I remembered how his thumb gently touched my lip last night as he talked about how much he wanted to kiss me. My stomach flipped again, but I continued forcing down the cereal so that he couldn't tell that anything was wrong.

After we finished breakfast, we headed to my car so that I could drive him to his and get on with our days. Still no talk about what happened last night.

"So, I have something to give you," Casey informed me once we were on the main road, pulling a wrinkled white envelope from his hand that I hadn't noticed he had. He put it in my glove box and then added, "Don't look at it until you get home."

"What is it?"

"Something I wanted to give to you at Ellie's wedding, but I chickened out when I saw you with Wes," he admitted softly. Eleanor's wedding was four years ago, so he'd been holding onto that letter for a really long time. "It might help explain why I left."

"What?" I was suddenly very confused. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

I heard him let out a breathy laugh before he said, "There's a lot of things I haven't told you, Josie."

The bar wasn't very far from his apartment, so soon enough, we were nearing the parking lot again. I didn't know if I wanted to drive slower to get more out of this conversation, or drive faster to end it before it got humiliating. "Why not?" I pressed further.

He paused, as if he didn't really know how to answer that question. The car was silent for so long that I was almost sure that he wasn't going to answer it at all. "It's not stuff that a person should say when they're engaged to somebody else."

"Well. You're not engaged anymore, so tell me now."

Again, more silence and I wanted to slap him silly until he told me what he was holding in. I had some ideas, but I wanted to hear it from his lips.

"Let's talk more tomorrow, alright?" Casey said cryptically as I pulled into the parking lot where his car was still parked from last night. "Thanks for the ride."

My mind was still spinning as he exited the car and started heading toward his, but I couldn't end the conversation like that. Quickly, I got out of my car before he could escape to his and I let the words burst out of my chest like a red hot firework. "Did you like me back then? The way I liked you?"

Maybe I already knew the answer, with the 'I was always looking' comment and especially last night with the 'I had the same thoughts' but I needed to hear him say it.

Casey turned back around to look at me, just a few cars away from where I stood by mine. I wasn't breathing anymore, waiting for his answer. "Call me when you're done with the letter."

"Just tell me, Case," I said, my voice strangled and pleading. I didn't want to read it in a letter, I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted to see the words leave his lips directly in front of me, right from his vocal cords into my ears.

He continued to study my face for a while and I wondered why it was so hard for him to admit it, when I've already admitted so many things about myself to him, willingly or not. I wasn't even asking about his current day feelings, so why was it so hard? And if it was so hard for him to say this one thing about how he felt years ago, what makes me think it would be any easier for him to ever be honest about how he felt now?

"Just say it," I continued to pressure him, feeling impatient that he couldn't answer me. "Yes or no, did you like me in high school?"

"Isn't the answer pretty obvious?"

"Why can't you just say it though?"

His face was going red, but he eventually mumbled a very quick, "Yes, Josie. Now read the letter."

He quickly got into his car after that, leaving no more room for discussion.