Page 107 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“Yeah. I’ve been seeing a new woman for a while now, and I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Oh.”Of course he’s seeing someone new.I wait for anger or hurt, but, unexpectedly, something inside me softens. It takes me a second to realize that I’m happy for him. We didn’t work out, but he deserves to be with someone who’s right for him.
“What is she like?”
“She’s a speech therapist. She loves board games. And backpacking.”
I grin, and after a moment he grins back, laughing a little. Because those are Alex’s hobbies that I could never get into. The board games were fun sometimes, but usually I spaced out while hetried to explain the rules. And backpacking? Just the thought of hiking up a mountain with camping gear strapped to my back makes me shudder with horror.
“She sounds perfect for you. So you’re going to introduce her to your parents, then?”
Slowly, he nods, with an apologetic shrug.
And even though I’m certain that I’m over Alex, even though I’m glad that he’s found someone, a part of me breaks open. Because, three years ago, I wanted so badly to be the person he brought home to his parents—and now, I am that person, for a different someone. Or I was a week ago.
Tears well up from deep inside my chest, and my throat aches with the effort of keeping them inside. The memory of how joyfully and unreservedly Daniel introduced me to his family hits me. I wanted that for so long. And I had it, for one brief, shining moment.
“I’m happy that you’re happy, Alex.”
“Hey. Same to you. Are you? Happy?”
Faking it is the only option right now. Because I didn’t come here to pour my heart out to Alex about how much I miss Daniel. I just wanted to end my last romance on a high note, instead of the low note that’s been lingering for too long.
“I am.” I beam at him, smiling through tears.
He finally reaches for me and pulls me into a hug. It’s the embrace I’ve thought about countless times, but right now I’m vibrating with the effort of trying not to cry and I just want to leave.
As soon as I’m a block away, I pull out my phone and call Carmen. Because Idowant to pour my heart out about Daniel. To someone who will understand and care about every single interaction, every up and down, every kiss. To my best friend.
That night—after crying buckets of tears to Carmen as we drinkchamomile tea on my tiny patio, the chill of the Seattle summer night cooling our skin as music pours out of a neighbor’s window—I feel cleansed. Now the whole story of Daniel McKinnon is out there—in my best friend’s brain, at least—and I can accept it for what it was, and move on. I feel like something has been wrung from my heart, leaving me lighter, with more room to breathe.
Chapter 36
After talking to Alex—after finally putting my memories of him to rest—a sense of acceptance settles over me. I’m in a new phase of my old life. It could be a good thing. Seattle is gorgeous this time of year, with the kind of weather that makes some people want to go camping and makes me want to sit at sidewalk cafés sipping icy cocktails. It also makes me wish I could take Daniel on a bike ride here, winding through a forest trail with an evergreen canopy over our heads. But I squash that particular wish.
I finally give in to my mom’s requests and go to their house for dinner. It’s exactly the same as ever. My mother prepares recipes from a cookbook calledNuts About Health, my dad spends the evening discussing sports with Blake, and everyone mostly pays attention to baby Adam. He’s sitting up now, so. Very exciting stuff.
I’m used to feeling like the spare—how very Prince Harry of me—so it doesn’t bother me too much. I’m just excited to get back to the sanctity of my apartment afterward. As much as I love my apartment, a stray part of me wishes that I could come home to Gramps, sitting on the couch with a knowing smile and a wry remark, and Wally, thumping his tail in wild excitement.
Work drones on the way it always does. The meetings are the worst part, because now I have to sit in the same room as people, and I can’t figure out how to make or avoid eye contact at sociallyacceptable moments. I do my best to quell the feeling of vague panic at the idea that I’m going to have to do this day in and day out for years and years and possibly forever.
On Wednesday, I return to my desk from an hour-long planning meeting and see that I have a missed call from Mom. There’s no voicemail, but she texted me.
Gramps in hospital. Getting latest from Trish. Will keep you updated.
The air dissolves from my lungs. The text was sent forty-eight minutes ago, and she hasn’t followed up with any details yet?
I text back as fast as I can:What’s going on? Is he ok?
When I don’t immediately see any typing bubbles, I call her. It goes to voicemail. I call two more times, but she doesn’t answer.
I try Trish: no answer, so I send her a quick text, too, begging for details.
After five and then ten minutes with no updates, I spiral.
Did Gramps have health problems? He never complained about anything, health-wise. Was he hiding something from me? Or was this sudden and unexpected? A heart attack or stroke? Oh my God, I should have booked him a doctor’s appointment, too, not just therapy appointments. How could I have overlooked that?
I’m sitting at my desk, struggling to get enough air, staring at my computer screen with eyes blurred from tears. I should have asked him when was the last time he had a checkup. No, I should never have left. Was he alone when something happened? Was he, perhaps, crumpled on the floor for hours before someone found him and called 911?Please, not the kitchen floor, it’s so hard and cold.
