Page 72 of This Is Who I Am

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The next afternoon, I go to Cass’s house. Not to have that open-minded, openhearted conversation Devon and I discussed, but to tell Cass in person something she deserves to hear from me.

I’m not angry at her because we’re incompatible. That would be like being angry at August because he’s a cat that wants breakfast first thing in the morning. I’m angry at myself for fooling myself into believing she and I could be something—that things could be different. Which only resulted in an extra scar on my heart.

When she lets me in, her eyes are red-rimmed and her cheeks blotchy. She doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“I’m sorry,” she says, as we walk into the kitchen. August rubs himself against my shin instantly. “Devon told me about what Bijou said. I’m so sorry. Obviously, I never meant for that to happen.”

“It’s okay.” I wave off her comment because I don’t want our conversation to go in that direction. I’d prefer to forget about Bijou altogether as soon as possible. Not because I’m jealous, although, strangely, I am. But because she could give Cass what I couldn’t and that stings.

“It’s not okay.” Cass shakes her head. “It’s mortifying.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Cass repeats back to me. “Because…” She huffs out some air instead of giving me a reason.

“It’s just how things are.” It’s so painful to stand across from her. Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it.

“Can we talk, please?” Cass takes two glasses from the cupboard. “Is water okay or do you want something stronger?”

“Water’s fine.”

Even when she’s just pouring water into a glass, the kitchen is Cass’s domain to such an extent she does it with enviable aplomb—with an assuredness she sometimes lacks outside of her comfort zone.

“Come.” She walks us into the living room and I choose the chair that has become my favorite.

“I’ve come to tell you something,” I start as soon as we sit down, because I don’t want her getting any ideas in her head. “I’m leaving town.”

“You are?” Her eyes widen, and there’s a hint of panic in her voice.

“It’s too painful to stay now,” I say.

“Because of me?”

I nod. “The Bijou incident made two things clear to me.” I take a sip of water. “First, that I can’t give you what you need, which I already knew, but I guess it’s good to have confirmation.”

“Estelle, no—” Cass starts to say, but I hold up my hand to cut her off.

“And that it really fucking hurts to hear about you being with someone else, even though, obviously, you are free to do whatever you want with whomever you want. I just don’t want to hear about it. I can’t.”

Cass rubs her hands over her face, leaving her cheeks even redder than before. “I don’t even know how it happened. The guys left and I was drunk and then, out of the blue, there she was. I just…” She shrugs as though she genuinely can’t fathom it. “I don’t just sleep with people like that.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cass.” I rub my palms on my jeans. “I just wanted to tell you in person that I’m leaving.”

“Are you going back to Berkeley?” she asks.

“To start with.”

“Back to work?”

“I don’t know.” Clearwater Bay has been such a safe haven for me in the aftermath of my father’s death and my burnout. “Probably not for a while.”

“But, ba—” Cass misspeaks and the tension in the room goes up another notch. “You don’t have to leave on my account. I thought you loved it here. You’ve made friends.”

“Yourfriends,” I interject.

“We can be civil with each other. We’re adults.”

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