"It looks like we both have some issues to work through tonight," she finally mutters.
"Damn straight," I agree gruffly. "Tequila is on the far-left shelf if you've reached that point."
Hailey shudders at the mention of alcohol. She's never been a big drinker, though I've also noticed that she's even more opposed to it since she started dating Steve. I've never gotten an explanation about why he hates drinking so much but it's obviously affected Hailey's feelings for it, too. I can't remember the last time I saw her actually drunk.
"No thanks, I'm good," she answers as she pulls her sweatshirt off. "I just need to vent." She plops down on the swivel chair next to me with a huff.
I sit up with a wince and say, "That's fine, but let me go pee. I've only moved off this couch once since 7:00 last night."
Hailey's eyes widen at that. I know she knows that I've been fucked up over Tristan, but it was never so bad that I didn't leave the house. She has no idea that everything imploded yesterday.
In typical caretaker Hailey fashion, she's waiting for me with two aspirin and a big glass of water when I sit back down on the couch. I give her an appreciative smile and swallow the pills. Then I lean back with a quirked eyebrow and stretch out my arms to rest on the back of the couch. I look at my sister expectantly.
She pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged on the seat and places her elbows on each knee, dropping her head into her hands with a groan. "I just hate him so much," she mumbles. "I don't know how I got into this situation."
"Living with him?" I ask tentatively.
Her head shoots up in frustration. "Beingwith him!" she exclaims. "Why did I ever start dating him? We don't even mesh. We never did." She sighs, the fight leaving her as quickly as it came. "I just feel like I'm starting to realize that he's Prince Charming on paper, but the polar opposite in real life. I feel like I was somehowconvincedto be with him."
I don't bother correcting her—the right word is actuallymanipulated. She needs to figure this out herself before she can see Steve for what he really is.
I stay quiet and let her vent.
"He's just not the same person he was when we started dating," she explains, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "It mostly has to do with how he is with me, which is what made me think it was just the honeymoon phase. I thought maybe I just bore him now. But I've noticed lately that it's more than that. He's actually kind of mean. He used toworshipme—he would give me compliments, buy me little things that let me know he was thinking of me. Now it seems to be the opposite. He rarely ever texts me during the day or does anything to let me know I'm on his mind, and when wearetogether, he says things about me that I hate. He tries to play them off as jokes but they're all just barely-disguised insults. He constantly brings up my past relationships, as if he's trying to make me out to be a whore for loving someone before him. And he makes subtle digs about my cooking, my career plans, even my appearance. But by the time I'm ready to be mad at him, he makes it seem like I just can't take a joke. Then he turns the charm on and ten minutes later I forget I was even mad. I get whiplash almost every day."
She drops her head back against the chair with a groan. "I couldn't figure out if it was just a phase or if he was always like this, but I'm starting to think this is just who he is. Which makes me wonder how I ever started dating him." She sits up with a wince. "And then how I get out of it."
I look at her with a sad smile. "I'll tell you the same thing I told you a few weeks ago. If he doesn't make you happy, he's not worth it. It doesn't matter if you live together, or if you've been together for years, or if you have a pet together. If you don't want to be with him then don't be with him."
She sighs and looks down at her hands. "I just feel like I only feel this way when he's angry at me," she mumbles. "Like today. I said one wrong thing and now he's giving me the silent treatment." I snort at that. If any guy I dated began acting like a teenage girl, they would immediately be cut loose.
Hailey either ignores it or doesn't recognize the ridiculousness of her comment. She turns to look at me. "That doesn't happen often, though. Most of the time we're fine. Our relationship is fine." I raise an eyebrow at the fact that she repeated the word twice.
A word that should not be used to describe a relationship that anyone should be in.
But again, she ignores me. Her expression becomes desperate. "How do you end a relationship where you can't exactly pinpoint a problem? There's no one thing I can say is wrong. I can't even give him a specific example of what he says that makes me feel bad. All I have to go on is my feelings. I can't end a relationship without a reason."
"Hailey," I say sternly. "You can do whatever the fuck you want. If you want to dump Steve because you don't like his haircut anymore,do it.You don't need a specific reason to get out of a relationship if it makes you unhappy.That'sthe reason. And it's more than enough."
She looks back at her hands, her face flushing pink with an ashamed blush. "I know," she whispers. She winces and rubs her temples with her fingers. "I'll do it eventually. I already know it's heading in that direction. I just need to do it." She sighs and looks up at me. "Let's move on from my shit and talk about you. What's going on? You look like you spent the night drinking from the bottle."
Now it's my turn to wince. "I kinda did," I admit. She raises an eyebrow and waits patiently for the rest. Ignoring the pang that slices through me at the reminder, I tell her, "I ran into Tristan at the bar last night."
Both of her eyebrows shoot to her hairline. "You saw Tristan? And you were at a bar?"
I nod stiffly. "Those are actually the two parts of this particularly depressive episode. He was flaunting another woman in front of me, and I was only at the bar because I'm being charged with copyright infringement and needed to meet with that lawyer Jason to see how much trouble I'm in."
Hailey's mouth drops open in shock.
"Yeah," mutter.
She continues to stare at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "You… I don't… I don't even know what to ask about first."
I look toward my kitchen, debating grabbing the tequila again. Talking about Hailey's problem was a welcome distraction but now that we're talking about me, all the pain from yesterday comes rushing back—the issue at work, the sight of Tristan picking up another woman, and the hurt I felt when he implied that I was only good for a quick fuck. All of it brings back the bone-deep pain that makes my chest ache.
And I once again think about how this hurts way more than I thought it would.
So I tell Hailey everything. I tell her about my fuckup at work, and my upcoming Monday meeting with the company's lawyers. I tell her that I think I might get fired but that maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing because I'm realizing I hate my job. I even tell her I've been writing again and thinking about giving my dream a real shot.