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So, we sit across from each other in an ice cream shop, geeking out over a black-and-white image of what's supposed to be a baby, but just looks like a cloudy orb to me.
And it's so much cooler than any of the Pokémon cards we used to obsess over.
I ditch work so Matt and I can spend the afternoon exploring Boulder. We walk along the busy streets, and I point out my favorite shops. We grab sandwiches at the bistro Kyle, and I like to eat at. We talk about Matt's daughter, how he hopes his mom makes it to January so she can meet her. There's a lightness to our conversation that hasn't been there in months. I don't feel like I'm talking to the guy who broke my heart anymore; I feel like I'm spending the afternoon with my best friend again. Before everything got complicated. Before the boob debacle. Before Audra. Before Kyle.
Huh.
Some things change and you can't go back to the way things were before. But not Matt and me. It feels like we've just picked up right where we left off.
There's a fountain of forgiveness I've been dipping my feet into recently. And Matt's someone I know I need to forgive, too. For not choosing me. For breaking my heart. For not being who I needed him to be.
I guess him hurting me led me where I was always supposed to be.
With Kyle.
In the end, maybe everything really does work itself out.
And maybe forgiveness is just accepting that we're human and we'll disappoint each other sometimes.
At least, that's what it's been for me.
—
Later that night, after Matt's gone home, I crawl into bed feeling a little lighter. I flick off the lamp on my side of the bed and breathe deeply in the darkness.
I don't like how Kyle and I left things. I don't like that he sent me a text saying he would be home late. I don't like the gnawing, achy feeling in my chest. The wishing I could wrap my arms around him, hold tight and heal all the broken places of his heart.
I wish we could, though. I wish we had the power to heal each other. To close up all the hurting and bleeding and wounded parts of ourselves by wrapping our arms around each other.
If only it was that simple.
Just when I've accepted that he won't come home until after I've fallen asleep, I hear the front door open. His footsteps echo softly down the hallway until he reaches our bedroom. He strips his clothes off before getting into bed beside me.
I keep my back to him, facing the wall.
He sighs before his arm snakes around my waist, pulling my backside flush against his front. He nestles his face into my hair.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Me too," I reply as his arms tighten around me.
"I go home," he says quietly. "I sit at the table with her and eat dinner. It's hard enough to do just that, but it's all I have in me right now, Jenny. That's me trying."
I lace my fingers with his, melt into his arms.
Matt's words echo in my head.
He has to do it for himself.
"Then I won't say anything about it anymore," I concede.
We stay wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air, his heart steadily beating against my back.
When I take a deep breath, feel all those hollow places in me no longer empty, I decide that sometimes we do heal each other.
Because Kyle healed me when I didn't think it was possible.
And maybe, just maybe, we'll survive this if we hold onto one other.
