Page 67 of This Is Who I Am

I miss Cass in everything I do. The meals I manage to prepare, for a hunger I don’t feel, are bleak and tasteless compared to a simple sandwich she spruces up with pickled onions and crumbled seaweed. I miss seeing her amble into a room, looking for something, but spotting me instead, and bursting into a joyous smile. Most of all, I miss observing her at the top of her game at Savor, where she is not only the chef, but the master of her skills. Where she is both an extraordinary cook and a gracious hostess, a combination I couldn’t get enough of from the start.

It’s Thursday afternoon and I’m about to tear another page out of my notebook—another one filled with useless scribbles and calculations going nowhere—when Devon knocks on the kitchen window, startling me.

I’m glad it’s her. She’s gentle and understanding and I can explain to her why I had to leave Cass without having to come out as asexual again.

“Turns out it’s you I have to talk to,” Devon says, her hands on her hips. “I just heard the news from Suzy and I came straight over. How are you?”

I just sigh as I usher her in.

We take our coffees into the backyard, but the weather isn’t cooperating. Gray clouds have been hanging over the bay ever since I broke up with Cass, as though the weather wants to fit my mood. A cold wind accosts us, but Devon doesn’t seem to mind.

“Looks like my self-fulfilling prophecy came true sooner than I thought.” I wish it was a joke, but nothing is even remotely funny these days.

“Give me the broad strokes,” Devon says.

“What did Suzy tell you?” I ask.

“Just that you broke up with Cass. And broke her heart in the process.”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to break Cass’s heart.” My stomach coils into a knot.

“What happened?” Devon wraps her hands around her coffee mug as the wind whips up her hair.

“We had a stupid fight. She woke up super cranky on Saturday after a really bad night and I tried to help, but we got into it instead and there really was no talking to her and then, all of a sudden, she blurts out how much she hates that she can’t touch me and, um, well, if ever there’s something that pushes all my buttons all at once…”

Devon peers at me over the rim of her mug.

“And I know she wasn’t herself and, honestly, it isn’t even her fault. It’s me. I carry too much baggage and it just made me feel so utterly lonely and unlovable in that moment. I left, hoping I could shake it off, but it got hold of me instead and… Cass accused me of being unreasonable and she’s probably right, but, um, I can’t repeat all the same arguments I’ve had a thousand times in my life already. I’m certainly not blameless and I made mistakes with Cass, but still… For some reason, I thought it would be different with her. That the… expectation wouldn’t loom so large between us.”

“To have sex?” Devon asks.

“She wants to touch me and I can’t let her. I don’t want her to. And I get it, but the facts remain the same.”

Devon shakes her head. “God, it’s so sad. I’m so sorry for you both.” She pins her gaze on me. “Sadie said you didn’t come to surf club on Monday. That’s why?”

I nod. I haven’t done much since the break-up.

“Will you come next Monday? I really think you should. I’ll be there if you need me.”

Devon’s kindness is the first thing that makes me feel as though I’m not entirely made up of sorrow—and that my life doesn’t have to be completely controlled by what I’m not.

“I assume Cass will be tactful enough not to gawk at us from The Bay.” It hurts to say her name and even more so to think about her like someone I want to avoid.

“I’ll talk to her. Don’t worry about it.”

“Our stupid fight was about surfing.” I lean back in my chair, my body numb to the sharpness of the wind. “I suggested we try it together. Big mistake.”

Devon chuckles. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“I know I have my issues but Cass is not without hers either and I’m not just talking about the menopause.”

“We all have our shit to deal with, but…” Devon doesn’t look as though she has to deal with a lot of stuff in her life, but then again, we’re not that close yet—and we mostly talk about me. “You don’t look too hot. Clearly, you’re heartbroken as well, just like Cass. Would you consider talking to her? One more time?” She pulls up one shoulder. “It all just feels so sudden and abrupt and I get it, I do, but… you looked so genuinely happy together. Cass was thriving again. Obviously, I know her a lot better than I know you.”

“Why would I talk to her if I know, in my heart of hearts, that I can’t be with her?”

“Remember the reasons you did want to be with her. Remember why you fell in love with her. Remember how lovely it was to wake up next to her, to see her sitting at The Bay when you emerged from the water. Focus on that, not on what could possibly go wrong.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you could have a great career in life coaching?” Finally, a hint of a joke.

---