“Thank fuck for that,” I quip. “If you let me leave right now, I’d probably drive off a fucking cliff.”
She gives me a small chuckle and slaps my knee in reproach, then continues her little mindfuck with me.
“Can you live without that girl?”
The answering thought slams into me, so simple, but so damn powerful. No. Not for another day. I never want to be without her in my life again. But how will I get back into hers? She’ll probably take a pair of scissors to my dick if I show back up there. I start to spiral again, visibly, because my mom intervenes.
“Answer me.” Her voice is gentle, but firm. She’s not letting me stray from whatever painful path she’s making me take.
“No.” The word is quiet, but there isn’t a hint of uncertainty in my tone.
“Good to hear. Now I want you to tell me whatherlife looks like without you in it?” It’s posed as a question, not a life-altering spear through the heart, but I’d like to file a motion to have it reclassified.
My mind is absolutelyambushedwith a flood of images of her potential future without me in it. Her, at the library, making friends, leading reading groups, making her boss one happy, lucky son of a bitch. Her, with her side hustle taking off, the world fawning over her adorable, funny designs. She’d probably blow up on TikTok overnight, with tens of thousands of people falling for her in an instant, her hilarious relatability appealing to all, they’d be lining up to be her friend, just like I was all those years ago.
It’s when the imagined future of her and Spencer takes over my mind that I really start to lose my grip on reality. I seeGemma, in a wedding dress. Gemma, at an altar, outside in the woods in the autumn, looking like natural perfection. And I see Spencer by her side, eyes bright and the widest smile in the world on his face. Then the face changes. Eduardo. The guy from the smoothie shop by the production lot. And then it’s entirely faceless, some unknown lucky bastard living my dream.
All of the groomsaren’t me. And that’s what guts me. That’s when I realize that she could have everything she wants in life, whether I’m in it or not. But I can’t have anything I want in life without her.
A sob breaks free of my mouth and I clasp my hand over it, embarrassed, consumed by grief welling inside me at the thought of her moving on, being perfectly happy, chasing her dreams and living her best life, all without me.
My mom stands, walking the two steps over to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder, hugging me to her. I bury my face in her stomach, just as comforting as it was in my youth, and let the sobs out. I couldn’t stop them if I tried, but it feels so much better to have her compassion while I do.
She doesn’t push me to voice my imaginings, which I appreciate, so I’m guessing she knows I’ve gotten to wherever she was trying to lead me. This place where I finally see, in full clarity, what I’ve missed for so many years. And how badly I’ve fucked up my chances at finally getting it.
What is the point of finally realizing what your dream is, if you also realize, at that exact second, that you have no hope of ever achieving it?
One arm holds me close to her, while the other rubs up and down my back in soft, gentle motions that somehow soothe what should be inconsolable. Her familiar scent engulfs my senses, I feel her support in her touch, and I know she’s not going to leave me alone down here; Rock Bottom: populationme.
The resolve in her tone sinks into my bones, filling me with a confidence, a determination I sorely need. “Now, what do you wanna do about it?”
And she doesn’t let me leave until we’ve made a plan. Agoodfucking plan. And now I finally know what I need to do.
TWENTY-FIVE
GEMMA
I spent the night alternating between pacing my room and attempting to sleep, lying in bed, staring at the wall in front of me, but instead of seeing my actual surroundings, all that swam in front of my vision was the same two men’s faces.
My own personal purgatory. The perfect mix of heaven and hell.
One, a man who has brought me so much joy, encouraged me to be who I am, given me nothing but goodness in the few months we’ve shared together.
But he still isn’t the other.
The one whose face I may never be able to stop seeing when I close my eyes.
The one who has been my other half in life, in every sense but the romantic one, until these past few months.
Even his…erratic behavior, the unexpected dickishness that seemed to come out of nowhere, the angst between us lately and the pain he’s caused me over the past few months…it’s not enough to erase all the good we’ve had between us. All the good that could still be there.
I don’t expect you to understand, you’ve only known him during what’s undoubtedly been the worst period of his entirelife. But I see him still in there. The one who sat up with me all night to console me, keep me from falling into a depression during the teenage drama that’s all but unavoidable in the middle and high school years. The guy who turns tomefirst when he has news to celebrate. A downfall he needs commiserating on. The kid who has made me smile every day for more than a decade, just because he’shim. My favorite person.
He’s not gone.
He’s confused, maybe. He’s clearly gone through a personality transplant or two recently, but I see him still in there, he was staring back at me from those clear, flecked, gemstone eyes on the couch last night.
It’s like he’s on the brink of a newfound clarity on things between us; I can see the awareness brewing, these flashes of certainty that were never there before, and I owe him the chance to work through it. For him. For both of us.
