The door slides open again, and Jacob’s parents reappear. His mother smiles at him and hands him a glass of water, acting for all the world as though I don’t exist.
“We’re going to FaceTime your grandmother,” his father tells him. Then he scowls at me expectantly.
“He’s leaving,” Jacob says without looking at me. The way he says it, it’s like he’s just done with me. A whole year together, then three weeks of hell, and he just dismisses me, easy as that.
I can’t even bring myself to say anything, I’m so furious and hurt. I let out a disbelieving breath and then leave him alone with his parents, just like he wants.
16
A Dangerous Word, Fine
I make it back to the hotel, and there’s this weird repetition in my head. I keep thinking, “I’ll talk to Heather, I’ll talk to Heather,” over and over, as if that’ll somehow make it okay. As if she can fix this for me. But when I open the door, she isn’t there. I fumble for my phone and text her, asking for her hotel number. About five seconds later, she texts back.
507, but I’m not there right now. Popped out to get some food. You need me?
I don’t text back. I can’t bring myself to tell her what’s happened, not through a text. And it feels too pathetic to ask her to come back.
I walk circles around my hotel room, Jacob’s awful words ringing in my ears.
This isn’t that big a deal, alright?
I know you think this is so fucking serious, but that’s just because you’ve never dated anyone before.
I’m not your fucking property.
There’s a horrible pain in my chest. Heartbreak, I understand the word now. My heart actually does feel broken. My whole body feels broken.
I’m so consumed with misery, the sharp knock on the door makes me jump. Heather is standing in the hallway with a huge bag of takeout food hanging from one arm, and her forehead slightly sweaty, like she’s hurried to get here.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. “Is Jacob alright?”
“He’s fine,” I say thinly. “He’s fine, we just—”
Broke up.
I can’t bring myself to say the words, but she must read it in my face, because her eyebrows fly up.
“You’re kidding.”
I shake my head, not quite trusting myself to speak. She stares at me for one long moment, then drops her takeout bag onto the floor and throws her arms around me. I stand stiffly for a few seconds, then I wrap my arms around her small frame.
“Shit,” she says. “Travis, that’sshit.”
“Yeah,” I agree in a strangled voice. “Pretty much.”
She hugs me tightly for another moment and then releases me. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” We crouch at the same time to pick up her abandoned takeout. “He just—he said he wanted to end things.”
“That can’t be all he said.” She crosses to the en suite kitchen to lay the food out on the table.
It isn’t all he said, but I don’t want to repeat his words to her. But she’s looking at me expectantly, and piling Indian food on a plate for me, so I force myself to answer. “He said we were never a big deal,” I say. The words taste sour on my tongue.
Heather makes a disbelieving noise. “Weren’t you two together for, like, a year?”
“Yes!” I say, frustration spilling into the word. “A year. That’s not something casual.”
“No,” she agrees. “Sit, eat.”
