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SUMMER
For the first time since he got back from Europe, Sean didn’t text or call for the entire weekend. I didn’t see him anywhere I went; certainly not at the party at the hockey house, but not at any of the coffee shops where I went to study and hang out with Olivia, either. Not even a glimpse of him from a distance while strolling around town.
I didn’t see or hear from him Monday, either. As I walk to class on Tuesday, I feel refreshed.
Maybe he’s finally, miraculously, gotten the message.
Just as I think that hopeful thought, I hear his voice from behind me. Unpleasant chills ripple down my spine like nails were just dragged across a chalkboard.
“Summer, let’s talk.”
The way I’m grinding my teeth, I feel like I’ll need to send Sean my next dentist bill.
I turn on my heels to face him. Uncharacteristically, I feel sharp words poised at the tip of my tongue, ready to give him the unfiltered telling-off that he’s more than earned by now.
But the sharp, heated words just waiting to fly from my mouth mellow when I see his face.
He looks … different. More earnest. He doesn’t look like he’s gearing up for an argument, ready to barrel through my objections and try to convince me of something I have no intention of being convinced of.
“Summer,” he begins, my name light on his lips, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking …”
I wait expectantly for him to continue. There’s actually in a thoughtful look in his eyes. Is he about to finally accept that we’re done for good?
“A lot of thinking,” he continues, “and …”
He takes a deep breath. Hope sparks in my chest that I’m about to finally hear him admit that he’s ready to put us behind him, that he finally realizes it’s what’s for the best.
“I think we need to go to couples therapy.”
I blink silently, once, twice, three times.
“Summer? Did you hear me?”
I must not have. I must have misheard him.
But I know I didn’t.
What is it going to take to get through to him? I feel the sharpness gathering back at the tip of my tongue; but the energy to give him a tongue-lashing fizzles out immediately. He’d probably just tell me that my irrational reaction is proof that I’m not thinking straight, and that couples therapy is exactly what we both need.
Even though we’re not a couple! And never will be again.
Am I going to have to wait weeks, months, the whole freaking semester, the whole freaking year until his delusion just burns itself out?
I feel a tiny spark of thought in the back of my mind, like the momentary flick of a lighter when the flame doesn’t catch.
It’s just a hint of an idea, but as I stare blankly at Sean, still stunned into silence by his level of denial, it starts to take shape.
It’s a bad idea. I know it is. Because it’s a lie.
Lies never solve problems. They only kick the can down the road and make things harder to deal with eventually.
But it is one thing I haven’t tried with Sean yet. One thing that might just get him off my back.
It’s not worth it, though. I need to be firm and truthful with him. I need to stick to my guns and stand by the real reason we’re never getting back together, not invent a phony one out of cowardice.
I tell myself all these things—but that seductive idea finds a way to bypass all the centers of rational thought in my brain and slides right out of my mouth.
“I’m seeing someone else,” I say.
