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“Because I don’t know how to handle all this. Because I liked him, and then I found out the truth and backed off. Because he’s been hurting for seven months because of me.”

Fran’s eyes crease. “Rosalie.” She shakes her head, leads me to the couch, and forces me to sit next to her. “No one is mad at you. This isn’t something that any of us completely understand. Of course you have confused feelings. We’re all learning how to navigate this.”

“I am confused.” My heart patters and I tell myself to breathe. Just breathe. No one’s even here yet. My panic has to at least wait until the strangers who call themselves friends arrive. “The thing is, I like him, Fran. A lot.”

She nods like she understands, but her narrowed brow tells me she doesn’t completely.

“But I thought we were on the same playing field, that we were beginning in the exact same place. Intense—yes. Stronger than comprehendible—oh yeah. But the same. We were both getting over someone. This was new and wonderful for both of us. When all this time, he was light years ahead of me.”

“Technically just two years ahead of you.”

I square my body, facing her better. “Two years that I don’t have. And what if I disappoint him? What if I can’t live up to these grand memories he has?”

She holds my right hand in both of hers now. “I don’t think that’s possible. And if you’re ready for honesty⁠—”

I nod. Ready? Who knows? Here for it—yes.

“Zev will wait an eternity for you to choose him.”

The weight of those words hits hard. I can’t be in charge of someone else’s happiness to that magnitude. I can’t be the reason someone else waits that long. That sounds terrible.

“I need a minute,” I say, standing and pulling my hand from her grasp.

She stands, too. “Um. Okay.” But I’m already out of the room.

I need to stretch out. I need to breathe. I need to back up a few days when I told Fran this was a good idea. Instead, I lay in the tub in Fran’s guest bathroom, resting my head against the porcelain. I pull in deep breaths through my nose and count as I exhale through my mouth.

From the hard but comfy space of Fran’s tub, I text my therapist. She gave me an emergency number. I might as well use it.

Me: Dr. Case, this is Rosalie.

Me: When did I become responsible for the happiness of everyone around me?

Janet Case: Are you okay? Are you in the hospital?

Janet Case: Are you going to hurt yourself?

Me: No. I’m in a friend’s bathtub. Fully dressed. I’m waiting for company. Strangers are coming over. I don’t know them, but they all know me.

Janet Case: You’re choosing to be brave.

Me: Or stupid. I don’t know which. Because are you ready for the biggest bomb drop of all?

Janet Case: I’m ready.

Me: Zev wasn’t a stranger. He was my boyfriend. He proposed to me the night of the accident. I just don’t remember any of it. Or him.

Janet Case: That’s quite the bomb drop.

Me: And apparently Zevulun is going to wait for eternity until I’m ready for a relationship. What if I’m never ready? What if he’s miserable forever because I can’t figure out my life or my feelings or my memories?

Janet Case: You’re spiraling. Take a breath.

Me: See? Emergency.

Janet Case: Yes. I see.

Janet Case: Rosalie, think about what you’re saying. The happiness of everyone is riding on your shoulders? That’s a heavy responsibility. Is it truly yours?