“Baby, no—”
I place my thumb on his lips, feeling the scruff on his jaw and halt his words from coming out. “You have to make a decision soon and I can’t be with you when you make it.”
I turn around and pull the handle on my suitcase up and tilt it toward me. He’s not moving so I think he understands why I have to turn away from him right now.
“Is there a possibility you won’t want me after I decide?” he asks, his voice nearly breaking.
My eyes close as the tears stream down my cheeks. I don’t turn around because I know what happens every time I look into his eyes, rabbit hole be damned.
“Come find me when you make your decision.”
Those are the last words I say before walking out that door and out of his life.
It’s been a month. An aching, antagonizing month.
When I got back to Cedar Ridge, flying commercial, my dad was at the airport with open arms. I didn’t want my parents to hate Alexander so I told them the story. I know it wasn’t my story to tell but they deserve to know why their daughter is upset. More importantly, I needed them to see this wasn’t breaking me like I was a year ago. My inner strength gives me the resiliency to stand tall, no matter what happens.
I spent the Christmas holiday with my parents and watched the snow fall over Cedar Ridge.
Every day I waited for my phone to ring.
It didn’t.
I waited for the knock on the door.
It didn’t come.
I waited for my bed to squeak.
It did, but only by me.
On January third, my family gathered at the cemetery.
I can’t believe my year from hell is over.
I made it.
In one year, I had (what I thought was a) heart-wrenching breakup with the man I thought I was going to marry. Now, I laugh at the idea I was ever upset about the douche with a flute.
In one year, I suffered the devastating loss of my baby brother. My soul still aches for him, but I cry less and I can now say his name out loud.
In one year, I am starting not to think of the accident as the day my dreams ended. They just changed. I still squeeze my palm and feel the burn tingle up my hand but it hurts less. The therapy I’ve been keeping up has helped a lot. I’ll never play professionally again. That still makes me sad. But I have found a love for teaching.
The day after Luke’s anniversary, I came back to New York. For the last few weeks I’ve been working hard. Classes resumed after the winter break. Crystal resumed her classes at night. Every day I open the door to my office and look for a rose tucked neatly in my notebook.
Sadly, there hasn’t been one.
With each passing day, I find more solace in my new city. Even in the cold, I sit in Washington Square Park and listen to Allyce play “La Vie en Rose,” just for me. Mattie still comes down for dinner once in a while and makes me laugh with his wild stories of a young twenty-something in New York City. And, yes, I still have to rescue him when he’s locked out.
Crystal and Lisa have taken turns spending time with me after hours. From tea at Balthazar with Crystal, to trips to the Museum of Natural History with Lisa and her kids, they’ve helped me navigate this new chapter of my life. They don’t know why Alexander and I are taking a break but they sense I need the company, and I accept it.
It was no surprise that when they learned today was my birthday they offered to take me out but I opted out. For some reason, I just feel like going home, drinking a glass of wine on the chesterfield, and listening to music. It doesn’t sound like much but, to me, it’s the perfect way to turn twenty-six.
I lock my office door and then Crystal’s classroom door, stopping for a second to recall how wonderful it was to watch Alexander teach. He was the most brilliant lecturer of music I’d ever seen. Shame he’ll be too busy to teach again.