“Hey!” The sound of overheard airport announcements on Amina’s end of the call. “What’s up, love? Did you change your mind? Our flight doesn’t board for thirty, we can still—”
A sob rises up her throat. “I can’t do this,” she gasps. “Ami, I can’t—I can’t do this, I can’t just... can’t justlet him go, I need to—” She buries her face in her hands. All around her there is movement, light, change. Currents of life, possibilities open to her, and this is what she wants to choose. “I just miss him,” she whispers. “I miss him, I just—I miss him so, so much—and I can’t do this, I can’t just... I can’t let him go.”
10
Exit Event
She knows where to find him.
It’s still early; SoHo’s streets are flush with the first wave of subway commuters, analysts and agency kids heading downtown. Traffic is loud on Broadway, and restaurant staff unload deliveries into cellars.
As Lili slips into the restaurant, it’s starting to bustle. Welcoming smiles of staff, white aprons, early client meetings, breakfasts before work, eggs en cocotte and Bloody Marys—it is Friday, she supposes—ushered out of the kitchens. Servers chat at the host stand, as sunshine spills in. That red awning, those gold letters. A few other people are already waiting for tables, and Lili tries to breathe steadily.
What is she doing?
The host ferries one party—light camel coats, talk of book deals—to their booth. Around Lili, the discussion of weekend plans, buzz of conversation blurring with her jet lag. Nerves are sharp in her chest, bright and breathless in her throat. She feels torn between the hope that he’s here and the hope that he isn’t.
Do you think he’ll listen?Jackie had asked, last night.
Together, they’d eaten takeout on their couch, Lili freshly showered after the flight. Her hair was wet against her sweatshirt.I don’t know, she said, honestly. She twisted her chopsticks between her fingers. Vegan mapo tofu, pai huang gua: comforting numb burn of Sichuan peppers,smashed cucumber, extra chili oil. Favorite foods, but her appetite was still remote, warded off by worry.Am I—am I being selfish?
Jackie frowned.In what sense?
Like, in apologizing? Seeking him out, when he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to speak to me—is it selfish to ask him to listen?
You’re asking him,Jackie said.He can say no, love. It’s horrible, but he has a choice.
Lili gave a tight nod, biting her lip.I know that it’s... unlikely that he’d even consider forgiving me. I mean, it looks like he’s seeing someone, Christ—but I can’t help wanting his forgiveness. Give him the apology he deserves, yes, but also... hoping that he might accept it, might take me back? Fuck, I don’t know, it just—it feels selfish, going into it like this. Like I’m making it about me, instead of him.
I wonder if that’s the point, actually,Jackie mused.Like, if that selfishness is part of what’s necessary, for a genuine apology. For you to sort of humble yourself, with what you want and what you did, and then... he makes the choice? Not in, like, a sexist way, or some toxic power imbalance, but—you sort of took away any power from him, whatever balance you two had in the relationship—or situation, or whatever you want to call it—when you cheated. Took away his choices, so now you give him one.
I think I always had the power in the relationship, Lili murmured.It was intense, all of it, and he’s not a relaxed person, not by far, he thrives off control, but not—not with me. Not outside of, like, sex. He was always... giving me the space to decide, or shape things, now that I look back.
Jackie nodded.So, maybe that’s it, then. Maybe that’s the unselfish part of this. That you explain, and apologize, then you accept what he decides. You fight for the chance to apologize, but you won’t fight what he decides.
And what if...Anxious, her chopsticks churned in her tofu, through scallions and sesame seeds.What if he says no?
Her roommate had sighed.I think that’s also the unselfish part. You live with it. You want him, as much as you do—and you make that clear to him—but then... then you let go. You let it be in his hands.
Lili listened, nodding. She’d bitten her nails raw on the plane, thinking about this: He could say no—he will likely say no—and she will have to live with that. The painful idea of growth as a matter of loss, rather than gain.
How are you going to do it?Jackie had asked, leaning back against their couch.Are you going to—not call him, I guess, but like, go to his house?
No, there’s a place he likes for breakfast,she murmured.I’m going to try that. Neutral ground, sort of. So he can leave, if he wants.
So, Balthazar.
“—for breakfast, miss?”
Now she glances at the host. Menus shuffle in his hands, expectant look.
“Sorry, yes, I—”
Behind the host, the gleam of glass.
She sees him in the mirror, first.
A center of gravity, for her. In this huge room, still too lavish and intense for breakfast, its rich red booths, faded saffron walls, servers setting fresh tables, diners drinking coffee and eating breakfast, the image of the half-full dining room, the clatter from the kitchen, laughter from outside, large windows, sunshine, reflected in these old massive mirrors on the walls, and there,him.
