She listens.
And then she cries.
I feel like the world’s biggest asshole, hurting her again.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, like echoed apologies are the Band-Aid she needs.
“God, Henry. Stop saying that.”
“Okay.” And then, because it’s almost reflexive: “I’m sorry.”
She laughs. It’s a pitiful sniveling sound that makes her laugh harder, more believably. “You’re the worst.”
“Maybe. But, Whit, I don’t want to be another reason you’re sad.”
Quietly, she says, “You met someone else, didn’t you?”
I sigh. “Yeah. But she’s not the reason you and I can’t be together. We don’t make sense, Whitney. We don’t make eachother happy—not like we used to.”
“But you let me believe you were open to trying again. I’ve clung to that.”
“Why, though?”
“Because I just…I want to go back to the way things were. Before. I want to feel happy and not wonder if I’m allowed. I want to start looking toward the future instead of askingwhat if?about the past. I want to feel lovable again.”
A lot like what Piper said.
I’ve been stuck in a similar state of shame since March. It sucks, feeling empty and unworthy. But hearing those sentiments come out of Whitney’s mouth gives me clarity I haven’t had in months.
“Whit, youarelovable.”
“But you don’t love me anymore,” she whispers. “And my parents won’t look me in the eye. My friends…they’re trying to help, but they treat me like I’m broken. Ifeelbroken.”
I sigh, wishing we’d had this conversation in person before I left for Florida. I want to meet her gaze as I say, “Not to undercut your emotions, because you feel what you feel, and I get what you’re saying—I swear I do—but Whitney, you arenotbroken. It’s okay to get excited about the future; you deserve that. And I’m personally giving you permission to feel happy again. Whenever you’re ready.”
My ride pulls up to the curb. I signal that I need a second, and the driver nods.
“Whit, tell me what you’re thinking.”
She exhales. “I’m thinking that you wouldn’t bullshit me.”
“I wouldn’t. Especially not about this.”
A few beats pass before she says, “When you come visit your mom, do you think we could get coffee or something?”
“Yeah. That’d be cool.”
A few minutes later, when we say goodbye, I know in my gut that it’s for real.
I get to my feet, and despite all that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, I feel lighter. Like I’ve cut an anchor free.
Piper
As Tati and I are getting ready to sit down to Chinese takeout, Henry texts my sister to let her know his dad’s been discharged.
“You guys traded numbers?” I ask, scooping fried rice onto my plate.
“This morning. I told him to get in touch if he needs anything.”
