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“Of course there is,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m scared of how much I don’t trust this feeling to last.” I shake my head, try and fail to blink back the moisture in my eyes. “If we try this and it doesn’t work, it’ll break me. More than ending it with you now is breaking me.”
My eyes search his face like I’m seeing it for the last time. His blond hair sticking up at odd ends, the lines around his mouth as it sets into a frown, the deep, indigo depths of his eyes. I memorize every inch of him—the slumped set of his shoulders, the wrinkles in his T-shirt, those strong arms that feel like home.
There’s nothing more to say, so he turns around again. I watch his back as he leaves, wondering if he’ll turn around one last time before he makes it to his car. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. I’m frozen still as his car shakes to life, watching as he pulls out of the lot and then out of view.
For the last time.
On Monday morning, I’m an hour early for work. I pace the hallway of the lecture hall, spinning the keyring around my fingers, contemplating how much more damage this will do to me. I’m a complete wreck in black leggings that barely pass for pants and a baggy jacket, my poor attempt at a Hail Mary against a dress code violation. Not that I care. My main concern is whatever this “surprise” from Theo could be.
I jump when the front door opens on the ground floor, but when I look down from the balcony, I catch sight of Angela’s curly head. She spots me from the foyer, and something in my expression must be pitiful enough for her to grant me some measure of mercy after the onslaught of her interrogation on Sunday. Instead of asking any more questions I can’t answer, she asks one I can.
“How ya holdin’ up?”
“Bad,” I tell her, gesturing at my outfit. “Obviously.”
She nods as if this is, in fact, obvious. “Did you find it yet?”
I assume she means the surprise. The knowledge that she was the one who helped Theo plan the date only makes this worse. She might be my best friend and her love might be unconditional, but I’m flooded with shame. Shame that she might think I’m a terrible person for rejecting him, especially after he put in all that hard work to make the night special. I turn back to the lecture hall door, then back to Angela with a shrug. “No, still working up the nerve.”
“Want me to come with?” she offers.
I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
When I reach the door of the lecture hall, I pull it open and flip the lights on inside. I spot the cardboard box immediately, but it’s not so easily moved. My knees wobble just from trying to lift it off the floor. Why is it so heavy? I want to know, but I also don’t. Whatever is inside, I know it’s far more than I deserve.
So instead, I give up.
I go about the rest of my day as if there isn’t a large box upstairs with my name on it. When Angela asks me about the surprise, I tell her it was too heavy to lift. She promises to help me move it at the end of the day, but by the time her shift ends, we’ve both forgotten all about it. Or at least, she has. It sits in the back of my mind, haunting every task until the day ends.
Two whole days pass before the damned thing makes it into the trunk of my car, and from there a handful of days before it finds its final home underneath my desk. If I open it now, I’ll have an excuse to call Theo and thank him for the gift, but I’ll also be one step closer to the end. If I don’t open it, the mystery of his last message to me will remain unanswered, but on some level it also means we’re not over yet.
This isn’t over for me, he’d said.
But it is for me. It was for him at one point, too, until he changed his mind. What will it take, I wonder, for me to change mine?
Twenty-Eight
The next few days pass in a blur of mundane tasks and obsessive thoughts. Ben has texted twice. Theo hasn’t reached out at all, not that I expect him to. By the time the weekend arrives, I finally break down and tell Angela everything. The football game and my poor one-on-one skills, the candlelit dinner I ruined, Theo asking for us to be a real couple, up to the bitter end outside my apartment when he asked if we were over.
Angela doesn’t say it’ll all be okay or that I’ll get through this, because she’s not a liar. Instead, she opts to comfort me in the only way she knows how.
“Cheap vodka for your problems?” She slides the brown paper bag in her hands off to reveal a bottle of Smirnoff. I make a face. “Should I have gotten the good kind?”
“Let’s not fool ourselves. There is no good kind.” I let out a long sigh as she plops down next to me on the couch. “I’m not really in a drink-my-feelings kind of mood. It’s been a long week.”
“Oh, thank god.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m too exhausted for shots. I’ll probably pass out on the floor after two. God, we’re getting old.” She sets the bottle down on the coffee table.
“We’re maturing,” I correct. “Some would even venture to call not drinking away your problems growth.”
“Maturing.” Her mouth twists like she swallowed a mouthful of the untouched liquor. “I call it the beginning of the end. Today we’re too tired to drink. Next weekend we’re breaking out the knitting needles and sipping tea we made from a kettle. You know you’re the third person I’ve tried to pass this bottle off to? Even my twenty-two-year-old cousin wouldn’t take it.”
“That’s a good idea, actually,” I tease. “I’ve been meaning to take up a new hobby. And I think I have some peppermint tea bags in a cupboard somewhere.”
“Sounds healthy. Is this your starter pack to getting over Theo? Letting liquor bottles gather dust and taking up knitting?” When I don’t answer, she continues. “We both knew he was a bad idea from the start, right? You can move on now. From Theo and Ben.”
“Hmm.” Although I’m the one who broke it off with Theo, I inexplicably hate that she seems to think it was a good idea. “That would be the logical first step, but alas, I have not been very logical these past few months.”
“What in particular wasn’t logical?” Her brows crease at my silence. “Okay. What aren’t you telling me?”
