“It’s not that easy.”
“So you have bad dreams. We’ll deal with them. Maybe they’ll even go away. Is that really what you’re worried about?”
“Worrying isn’t rational. No one makes a conscious decision to freak out about something.”
“Look, you’ve got a lot on your mind. And you’re not sleeping, and finals are coming up. I get that. But these nightmares—all this stuff—it’s no reason for us to put our lives on hold.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m overreacting.” I was being unfair, I knew, but could not stop myself. I was so tired of his being even-keeled in the face of all that was upsetting and ugly and illogical. I wanted a reaction out of him. “Maybe I’m even hysterical. A hysterical woman,” I said.
“Whoa, Ana, I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t. You didn’t have to—I can tell you’re thinking it.”
Brian dropped his chopsticks into his carton of noodles and stood. “You know what? Fine. I have been trying and trying with you, but you just refuse—I’m not sure I can take this anymore.”
“I think we need some time apart.” When I saw the words reflected on his face I wished I hadn’t said them. “Maybe we could just take a break, and talk again in a couple weeks.”
Brian didn’t say anything.
“Brian, I’m sorry. Really.”
“Okay. Can you just—” He nodded toward the door.
—
I left Brian’s room and walked Fourteenth Street all the way to the Hudson. In the gutter someone had dropped a pen and I eyed it uneasily. For years I had forgotten about the mines disguised as litter, but now I was staring at someone’s trash half-expecting it to explode. I cursed Sharon and the UN for stirring up trouble. Telling my story was supposed to be a good thing but it had just made everything worse. And now I’d been terrible to Brian and lost him, too.
“What’s wrong with you?” I said. I yanked at the necklace Brian had given me, but it held fast and my neck stung where the metal dug into my skin. I unclasped the chain and balled it up in my fist. The river glowed auburn with the lights of Manhattan and Jersey City. I considered throwing the necklace in the water. Had I died in the forest, at least I would be with my family and ignorant of such profound loneliness. But then there was Rahela. I dumped the chain in my coat pocket. Not knowing what else to do, I called my mother.
Laura answered in a groggy voice. “What’s the matter?”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. Did I wake you?”
“No, no, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” I could feel my voice cracking.
I let Laura whisper placations into the phone but knew she could not console me.
“I think—I want to go home.”
“Do you want me to come get you?”
“No. I mean I want to go back to Croatia.”
“What?”
“Just for the summer.”
“Honey, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’s dangerous.”
“The war’s been over for ages.”
“Only two years since Kosovo.”
“So what am I supposed to do, hide out in Gardenville forever?”
“But a trip like that—do you think it makes sense to open old wounds?”
“Open them?” I almost laughed.
“I just don’t want to see you hurting again.”
“I’m already hurting. I am at a standstill with this shit. I’m never going to get better. Not like this.”
“Look. You’re upset. Take a day to cool off and we’ll talk more—”
“I’m not asking your permission,” I said. “I just need you to send me my passports.”
I hung up and kicked the curb until it hurt through my boot. “I’m sorry,” I said to the river. The wind off the water was frigid, and I turned up my collar against the cold.