Page 40 of Love in Focus

Some of my college friends already have kids like Carly and Kaylee. Meanwhile, I don’t even have a place to call my own right now, and in a cruel twist of fate, I’m working withmy college exof all people. I’m only going backward, pushed away from the shore by an insurmountable wave.

I feel a little lightheaded, but I press on.

“What are some of your future plans?” It takes all my effort to keep my voice steady, but I manage. Or at least, I think I do. But then Maria and Joey give me looks of concern.

“Are you feeling all right?” Maria asks.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I mean, I think so…”

I must not have been convincing, because Celeste walks over to the video cameras and pauses the recording. “Why don’t we all take a fifteen-minute break?” she says diplomatically. “So the girls can get a break from screen time and everyone who needs it can go to the restroom.”

As if on cue, Kaylee says, “Mommy, can I go to the bathroom?”

The couple laughs, and Celeste directs the Amatos to the restroom upstairs. I watch them, but I can’t get a sound out myself. The room is spinning, and I can barely breathe.

“Sorry,” I finally manage to say. But even then, I’m not sure if anyone can hear me. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

I rush out of the building as tears start falling from my eyes. The streets are crowded with people heading out for dinner and drinks.

The door slams shut behind me, and some passersby startle at the noise. I ignore them and sit on the ground with my back against the door.

Pulling my legs into my chest, I try to become as small and inconspicuous as possible as I listen to myself breathe. At first, my breaths come in heaves, quick but heavy, before gradually becoming slow and deep.

I’d been doing relatively well in the last couple of weeks, so I thought I was better now. I thought I was over what happened between James and me. But clearly, I’m not. And I’m so sick of not being okay.

The door opens, and I almost fall back. Before I can, firm but gentle hands grip my shoulders and hold me steady.

“Hey,” says Celeste.

When I don’t say anything in response, Celeste continues, “Do you want me to ask the Amatos if they can come back another time to finish the interview?”

I blink up at her. Her face is blurry because of the tears clouding my vision.

Celeste’s eyes widen with concern. “Gem, what’s wrong?”

Before either of us can think twice, she sits down on the ground and wraps her arms around me. In this one moment, I’m too broken up inside to care how weird it is that, of all people, my college ex is here, comforting me while I try to deal with the pain from my most recent breakup.

“It’s… all too much,” I quietly say. “Today. Seeing the Amatos. Remembering what I had less than two months ago. I had afuture.A path.” I know I’m rambling, saying stuff that Celeste doesn’t have enough context to understand. But the pain in my chest is too much, exploding out of me like bursts of lava. Celeste, to her credit, is silent, quietly listening as I talk. “I knew who I was and where I was headed. And then, suddenly, boom, nothing. Back to square one. Nothing but a nebulous nothing ahead, all because, after seven years of being together, my ex-fiancé randomly decided he didn’t love me anymore and got with someone else, a meretwo weeksafter we broke up.”

Celeste frowns. “Wait, hold on. He already moved on?”

I nod. Tears stream down my face again, and I wipe them away as I continue, “What the Amatos have… that’s the kind of life I thought was within my grasp. But he replaced me so easily. Afterseven years.”

Celeste lets out a frustrated groan as she leans back against the wall.

“He sounds awfully like my dad,” she says. “Except my dad decided he didn’t want to be married to my mom after more than twenty years.”

I stare wide-eyed at Celeste. She remains completely still as she continues, “Yup, that’s how they divorced.Aftermy mom got sick, too. I’m telling you, it was a shit show back home. That’s part of the reason why I don’t do relationships anymore, and why I got so distant with you. What’s the point of love if someone can still abandon you aftertwenty years?”

I’m taken aback. As a hopeless romantic, I profoundly and deeply disagree with Celeste’s sentiment. But also, it’s not like I have the track record to prove myself right.

“I’m so sorry” is all I can say in the end. “That must have been difficult for you and your mom.”

Celeste bites her lip and avoids my gaze, staring out into the busy street, instead. I don’t have to be an expert in body language to know that this conversation is making her uncomfortable.

“Anyway,” she says a few seconds later. “Enough about me. Is it okay if I give you some encouraging words? Would that help you right now? Or would it be too weird considering our history?”

I shrug. “Not at all. Since I have to give people advice as part of my job—where to eat, what to try out, how to deal with relationship problems, et cetera—I lovereceivingadvice. It’s a nice change.”

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