The next minute … “Come to California.”
It was like preparing for a blizzard and being shocked by an earthquake. The world shifted as cracks appeared in all the walls I’d put up.
I love you.
I don’t want to go without you.
I’ll take care of everything.
He’d been so confident I’d say yes. I’d seen the life he wanted, the house he’d dreamed … and the cracks in his foundation.
When that car drove away, I stood in my driveway for far too long, arms wrapped around my stomach, shivering in the winter breeze and cursing the sun for shining through my overcast mood.
I went back inside and tried to clean. My shower smelled like pine aftershave he left behind, a poor replacement for his skin.Then I couldn’t be in my apartment a minute longer.
I reached for my keys, but instead lifted his watch, which had been sitting on that table since Christmas. It must be kinetic, charged by movement, because time had stopped.
I put it down, locked up my house, and started walking.
Alex
Numb. That’s the only word for it.
Yesterday, my life had been phenomenal. I’d been so happy in our glass house that I hadn’t just thrown a stone, I’d launched a grenade.
For the last seven hours I rotated between reading her writing in my notebook, tracing her handwriting with my fingertip, and staring out the plane window, watching the country pass in the patchwork of clouds.
Over the Great Lakes, I thought maybe this morning’s tearful conversation had been a dream. Maybe I’d misheard her rejection and she was planning her trip. Maybe if I called her when I landed, I could suggest a weekend visit. We could take things slow and try long distance, instead of me running my mouth, moving too fast and scaring her out of my life.
Somewhere around Chicago, the rage rose alongside the skyscrapers. I offered her everything and she spat in my face. How dare she reject me? Didn’t she see how much I could give her? Didn’t she know how much better things would be if she were mine?
Over the vast swaths of cornfields in the Great Plains, I planned how to convince her. She would love , given the chance. I’d send her pictures, search for our house. I’d update her resume and apply for hospital jobs, then visit all the yoga studios to find one she'd love. I’d build a life for her inside mine, dammit, and she’d have no excuse to say no.
Staring at the Rockies peaking through the clouds, I realized I’d ruined it all. Exhaustion pulled at me, but when I closed my eyes, all I saw was her beautiful, knowing hazel eyes.
By the time we got to San Francisco, I was wrecked. I’ve always loved the thrill of descending onto the airstrip so close to the Bay. But this time I didn’t feel the relief of getting off the plane or the comfort of being back in the city that defined my adulthood.
I felt nothing.
I didn’t leave my heart in San Francisco. It had never been here.
I left my heart in the hospital, the ski lodge, the cozy studio above the garage.
Like the Peppermint Pig, I put my heart in a velvet bag, shattered it with a hammer and slid the broken pieces into her tender hands for safekeeping.
I deplaned and followed the familiar path to baggage claim in a complete blur.
Which is why I didn’t hear my name being called.
Grace
My feet walked to the hospital and into my office. I didn’t know what I was doing here, only that I couldn't be alone or with people.
Slumping into my chair, my gaze lifted to last year’s calendar, to the pretty bow I’d drawn for the ribbon cutting. Only a month had passed, but my whole world had changed since Bruce had collapsed on that stage.
I tugged out the pushpins to let last year fall, then unrolled a new Year-at-a-Glance calendar from the packaging tube and hung it up.
I backed up slowly, taking in the whole wall, wondering what the future would hold. The year ahead looked empty. No big projects, no grand openings.
My shoulders hit the door. Jiggling the handle, I stepped backwards into the Clarke Family Sensory Room. Tomorrow it would be open to patients who needed it. But today, it was still mine. I turned on soothing music, laid down on the pillows, and cried myself to asleep.
I awoke at dusk and walked home, surprised to see a silhouette perched on my doorstep. It took me a minute to recognize Kate, looking annoyed and impatient. Then again, she always looked impatient, apparently that was part of her ‘New Yorker charm.’
I wondered if we’d made plans I’d forgotten, though I’d never hung out with just Kate, only as a third wheel with her and Mallory. She stood, wiped the snow off her butt, and lifted two bottles: one red wine, one tequila.
“Let me in. We need to talk.”
Alex
At the baggage carousel, a strong hand wrapped around my bicep.
“Mr. Clarke,” he said breathlessly, like he’d chased me through the terminal.
“Connor? What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to pick you up.”
Nobody picks me up. I land, I get my stuff, I take a cab.
