Page 111 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

“September is fine, but… where is this coming from? Did you get the partnership?”

I suck my lips between my teeth, staring out the window at the passing strip malls, wondering how to explain. Or if I even want to explain.

“I resigned.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she says. Her mouth is hanging open. I realize if she wasn’t driving, she would be gaping at me like I have a hole in my head.

“Everything will be wrapped up by mid-September,” I say. “I was thinking two weeks – fourteen days – if you can get the time off?”

“Heidi. What the hell is going on?”

I can hear the shock in her voice. The nervous undertones. She’s still blinking in absolute disbelief, like I’ve just told her I have a terminal illness.

“It’s over,” I say. “It ran its course. I’ll find something else.”

“And… you and Quentin?”

“Over,” I say simply.

I can feel my heart hardening. My walls rebuilding, more impenetrable than before. Even here, sitting in the car with my best friend, I can’t let myself go down this road of thinking about Quentin. He was a mistake. A stupid mistake.

“Babe, please tell me what happened.” The softness in her voice kills me. I will not let her feel sorry for me. Poor pitiful Heidi, who let herself be blinded enough not to see the sucker punch coming.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say. “Right now, all I want to do is make it to that concert. Apologize to Kamille. And talk about Paris.”

“Heidi, I –”

“Please, Meg.”

The desperation makes my voice come out quiet. I’m worried if I say anything else that I’ll start crying again, and my eyes are already swollen beyond belief. Meg’s brow is furrowed with concern, but eventually she just nods.

“Okay,” she says reluctantly. “Let’s talk about Paris.”

***

By the time we navigate traffic and the winding streets of the college campus, we miss the whole concert. We find our way into the dining hall during the white table cloth lunch reception, and I can tell from the way she won’t make eye contact with me that Kamille is crushed. I crushed her. We all make smalltalk, while Kamille mothers her younger siblings, and we exchange half-hearted hugs before we leave. I find myself leaning against the car in the parking lot, staring into the manicured gardens at the edge of the music building and trying not to cry. The threat of it stings like saltwater in my nose.

Her grandmother, Audrey, finds me a few moments later.

“I’m glad you made it,” she says, squeezing my arm. “Are you okay?”

“I am so sorry,” I say. “If you want to request someone else in the program, I understand. I can recommend someone. Jamie is really reliable. Or, I think Caroline plays an instrument. It would probably be a better fit.”

Tears are slipping from beneath the rim of my sunglasses, tickling my chin. I wipe them roughly. Audrey shakes her head and gives me a hard look.

“Stop that talk,” she says. “I don’t want anyone else. You know why I’ve always liked you? Because you’re someone who doesn’t quit. And I know you’re not going to quit on my granddaughter.”

“You trusted me with your kid, and I let her down.”

“There are plenty of people in Kamille’s life who have let her down,” she says. “The difference between you and all those other people is that you keep showing up. You keep showing up. She doesn’t need you to be perfect. She needs to see what it means to apologize when you mess up. She needs to know that one mistake doesn’t automatically ruin everything. She just needs you to be human.”

Audrey pulls me into a hug. Her skin feels soft and doughy, her hair smells like lavender soap. It’s so comforting that I cling to her longer than I mean to, wondering if I could just stay wrapped in this feeling forever so I don’t have to face the fact that everything is falling apart. She rubs my back with finality.

“Go home,” she tells me. “Get some rest. Kamille will forgive you. But in the meantime, you need to figure out how to forgive yourself.”

29.

I take another stack of binders and add them to the precarious tower forming at the edge of Yolanda’s desk. I’ve been systematically combing through my active cases, with the help of the interns, in an attempt to wrap up loose ends. The ones that can’t be neatly tied up are being transferred between three of our other associates. They’re grateful, but everyone seems confused by my departure, though few are bold enough to broach the topic.

---