“I wish you hadn’t had that dream.” My words are a riptide of regret. “I wish that more than anything.”
Our gazes fuse. “I tried so hard not to love you, Callie. But that was impossible, because... well. You’re you.”
Feeling the stares of nearby diners swiveling one by one toward me, I reach for my napkin and start wiping my eyes. By now my mascara is probably all over my face.
Perhaps reflexively, Joel leans across the table to help, which makes me cry harder, grab his hand. “How can it end like this?” I say, as his fingers grip mine, perhaps for the last time. “We’re not finished yet.”
“I know.” His eyes cling to me. “That’s what makes this so hard.”
But he’s right. I can see that now. We’ve finally run out of road, with no way of turning back.
Releasing a breath, I attempt to steady myself for the toughest part, the part I’m not sure I can force my body to do. I manage to get to my feet, though I’m swaying a little.
I can’t look at him, because if I do, I won’t be able to go through with it.
“I’ll stay at Esther’s tonight—”
“No, don’t. I’ll go to Tamsin’s.”
I pause then, because I can’t leave forever without saying it. “Just... trust people to love you, Joel. Because they do, so much.”
And now I’m through the front door, negotiating the road somehow,not caring about the cold. As I reach the opposite pavement, I manage to turn around and blink back at the restaurant, as if to check that it’s still there, half hoping this is all just my mind’s illusion, a mirage created by strangely angled light.
At our table with his back to the window, Joel has lowered his head. The traffic goes silent around me, and the street melts away. It’s just me now, staring at Joel through a pane of glass, like he’s already an artifact, something to be loved but never touched again.
Then comes the hiss of bus brakes, a whistle of wind. People push past, and sound swells around me. The world is moving me along, and a current’s clipping at my feet.
I breathe in and then out, step forward, let it take me.
•••
It’s only when I crash-land on Esther’s doorstep twenty minutes later that I discover I’m still clutching my dessert spoon.
72.
Joel
Once Callie’s left the restaurant, I stay where I am for maybe thirty minutes, an hour. Eventually the candle at our table burns out. But none of the waiters come close. They must have seen what happened. A relationship smashed into pieces, right here in their restaurant.
I can’t stop staring at her empty plate.
In the end, the waiter lets me take it home with me. I arrived with the only girl I’ve ever truly loved, and leave just two hours later with a single plate and a broken heart.
We haven’t even made it to a year. Let alone a lifetime.
PARTFOUR
73.
Callie
Life is so different these days. Whenever I stop to think about it, it’s hard to believe how much has changed since the last time I saw you.
But when was the last time you saw me, Joel? Do you ever see me in your dreams? Sometimes I wonder how much you know about the way I live now—the things you’ve been privy to, the details and the colors. I’ve thought a lot about what you said—I think for you the best is yet to come—and I’ve wondered for so long about how much weight to give that. If my sadness is misplaced. If I should feel only optimism.
I know all you ever wanted was for me to be happy. But I also know, for that to happen, I’m going to have to learn to let you go.
I’m trying, Joel. To pick my heart off the floor, love what we were, and finally let you go.
