Page 124 of How to Walk Away

We were done. I turned away. “Hey—have a great trip back to Scotland.”

But he lingered.

“I have something for you,” he said, holding up a small box wrapped in kraft paper. “Your birthday present, actually. I brought it to the lake—but… I’d still like you to have it.”

I turned away. “No, thanks.”

He hesitated. “I could just leave it here for you.”

“Don’t leave it here. I don’t want it.”

He stood there.

“Time to go, dude,” I said then. “Get out.”

“I thought we might exchange contact information.”

Why the hell would we do that?“Oh,” I said, falsely pleasant. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“I was hoping we could stay friends.”

Fuck you. “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m good.”

“How will I know how you’re doing?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, still not turning back. “You said yourself I’m a lot stronger than I think.”

“Maybe I could just—”

“Get the hell out,” I said. “Please.” We were so done here.

He got quiet. I heard him walk toward the door then. When he reached it, he turned. “I’m sorry, Margaret. I will always remember you.”

“That’s so funny,” I said, glancing in his direction, but not actually meeting his eyes. “Because I’ve already forgotten you.”

***

THE NEXT MORNING,lying awake in my new, greige bedroom, I noticed something on the table by the door. My birthday present from Ian. He’d left it, anyway.

It made me angry to see it. Hadn’t I told him not to do that? Didn’t I get any say in anything?

I resolved to throw it away in the kitchen trash.

I should probably have gotten up and gotten dressed. But I didn’t. I found myself thinking about Kit’s comforting thought. Kit’s expert said to give it a year. Would I be back to normal in a year? It seemed utterly impossible.

But then I had a comforting thought of my own.

I’ll give it a year,I thought,and if I don’t feel any better, I’ll kill myself.

It perked me up quite a bit.

All I had to do for one year was make it through the day. I’d ask my mother to get me a big wall calendar, and then, at the end of every day I successfully suffered through, I’d mark a bigX. Things would get better, Kit’s mathematician had promised. Great. I hoped so.

But if he was wrong, I had a plan B.

One bit of good news: It was not as hard to move back home as I’d feared.

Though my dad did not come home.

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