Exactly like her.
I push that thought away before it can take up any more real estate in my mind.
Christine nods, another tear escaping down her cheek. “Okay.” Without another word, she stands and leaves the restaurant.
Most women scream or explode into tears. Others berate me. But this—simply walking away—is almost worse. After all, I think I rightfully deserve their anger. Now I know Christinewill go nurse her wounds on her own, or with her friends, even though I’m the one who caused them.
I pay the bill and head out onto Mont-Royal Street, where the early October air infuses my senses with an invigorating freshness, which does little to lift my mood. The trees planted along the street are ablaze with the fiery palette of autumn. Leaves in vibrant shades of crimson, burnt orange, and sun-kissed gold form a vivid mosaic above and beneath my feet. Each step I take crunches satisfyingly on the carpet of fallen leaves, releasing a rich, earthy scent that mingles with the crispness of the air.
These bright autumn colours are a strange but familiar contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city. The symphony of urban life crescendos around me—the rhythmic patter of footsteps on pavement, the occasional bark of laughter, and the distant hum of traffic meld into a lively backdrop.
But all of that isn’t enough to chase away the shadow cast within my heart.
Instead of heading back in the direction of the office, I take a sharp left when I cross Saint Denis Street. I whip out my phone and text my boss.
Will: Gonna take an extended lunch. Don’t have any meetings so I’ll just catch up on my hours tonight
Ryan: Yeah no worries
Before I slip my phone back into my pocket, a notification pops up from Google Photos. Curious, I click on it—and immediately regret it.
It’s one of those memory-style notifications, this one from a year ago. The image is a selfie of me with my arm around Matthew’s shoulders and we’re each holding a beer. We’ve also both got our party faces on. My chestnut hair was overdue for a buzz.
This photo is from the exact evening everything changed. The very same night I severed our lifelong friendship.
Without even thinking about it, I delete the photo. I didn’t even know I’d taken that, let alone kept it.
The phone starts vibrating—can’t I get a break and walk in peace? But as soon as I see Rachel’s name pop up, I answer without hesitation. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Rachel’s voice sings in my ear as I resume my walk. “You still on your lunch break?”
I’m not going to get into how my lunch break has been going so far. I don’t think I even mentioned Christine to Rachel. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I mentioned a woman to my sister.
I always break things off before it gets serious.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Okay, good.” Rachel pauses. A dark foreboding sweeps its way through me, and my body stiffens in anticipation. “So, I just left Océane’s place.” My stomach drops. “She’s never going to admit it, because of course she won’t, but she could really use some extra money for some clothes. Her stuff is falling apart.”
Right. I swallow and immediately jump into my response.
“Okay, yeah, of course. I’ll send her some money.”
There’s a moment of silence, followed by a deep sigh. “You know, you could just go see her, too. She’d be happy with just that.”
“I know.” Of course I know that. But every time I try to convince myself to pay our little sister a visit, I freeze, my brain bombarded by visions of her I wish I could banish forever.
I never know how to deal with that. So I don’t.
Shame creeps up my spine. Océane already has shit parents; she deserves a good brother. Why can’t I give that to her?
Maybe it’s for the best that I’ll never be a father. I can’t even show up for the sister who needs me the most.
“You sound down,” Rachel observes. “What’s wrong?”
Apart from how I’m a terrible brother and a shit boyfriend? Not much. I should have known better than to try and hide things from Rachel. “Just broke it off with someone. It wasn’t serious. I’m okay.” It’s not me I’m worried about.
Another sigh escapes from the phone receiver. “You know you have to move on from her eventually, right?”
