Chapter 25
Chance
After breakfast this morning with Céline, I was ready to head straight over to Lucy’s, but I stopped by the hospital for what was supposed to be a brief check-in, not wanting to bother Lucy too early, but then an emergency kept me there for hours. I’m only now headed to see Lucy.
I’m thrilled to find a parking spot outside her apartment building, and I carefully wedge the Explorer in. I’m taking this as a good sign. I scan the windows, searching for any indication of her presence, but the blinds are drawn tight, no light or the flicker of her TV. With a sigh, I step out into the cool afternoon air.
“Lucy?” I call up to her window as I approach the door, knowing it’s a long shot. No response comes. I buzz and then wait. She doesn’t answer. She’s not here; I can feel the absence like a weight in my chest.
I retreat back to my car and drive back the way I came, to Barney’s this time. Maybe she’s been called in to work at the pub.
Barney’s is buzzing when I arrive, as it is most Saturdays. But as I survey the room, there’s no trace of Lucy.
“Hey!” Janelle calls from behind the bar, her smile warm. Her hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, a few strands framing her face.
I sit down across from her. “Hi, Janelle.” I manage a smile. “How are your nursing classes going?”
“They’re great. Thanks for asking. I have one more semester, and then I’ll be begging you for a job.” She wipes her hands on her apron, her brow lifting. “You seem off. What’s going on?”
I sigh. “I’m looking for Lucy. Is she working today?”
Janelle’s brow furrows. “No. She’s not. What happened?”
I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. I know she and Lucy are tight, so I open up. “It’s…complicated. My ex, Céline, showed up out of nowhere and made a big scene last night. It ruined my plans with Lucy. I talked with Céline again this morning, though, and now, I need to talk to Lucy about it, let her know everything’s okay.”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Been better,” I admit, avoiding her gaze as I fiddle with a coaster.
After a moment, Janelle comes around the bar with a glass of amber liquid. She directs me to a booth, sets it in front of me, and slides into the booth on the other side.
“Spill.”
“Céline and I—we were together for nearly ten years.”
“Wow, that’s…” Janelle trails off, her eyes searching mine.
“Complicated?” I offer, managing a wry chuckle.
“Something like that.” She leans back.
“Everything happened so fast. We were living together by our second date,” I continue.
“Sounds intense,” she observes.
“Intense,” I echo, the word tasting sour. “It was. Céline is. But then…things changed.” I hesitate, hating how vulnerable these admissions make me feel, but the truth claws its way out, regardless. “She stopped being the person who lifted me up. We just seemed to coexist. She wasn’t working, and she was consistently unhappy. We talked about moving here, and I thought the change would be good for her and for us.”
“She wanted to move?” Janelle asks.
“She said she did. Neither of us was where we wanted to be back in Montreal.” I run my finger around the tiles on the tabletop.
Céline’s pervasive discontent had seeped into every corner of our life together, leaving little room for joy or growth. I’d convinced myself this was a real chance for us to make things better. And I thought she’d believed that too, that it wasn’t me pushing for this and dragging her along.
I stare into the half-empty glass of amber liquid. “Moving was supposed to be a fresh start,” I murmur. “I thought if we changed the scenery, the rest would follow.”
“New city, new beginnings?” Janelle prompts.
“Exactly.” I force a smile, but it feels as hollow as the hope I’d harbored. “She supported me when I came out for the interview. And we celebrated when I got the job. Together, we found the apartment in North Van. Then we packed up most of our stuff, but three days before we were going to leave, she told me she was staying.”
Janelle’s eyes widen. “That must have been quite the surprise.”
“I was shocked, and it was terribly difficult, but I’d already committed to the job, so I went anyway. At the time, I kept telling her I hoped she’d join me eventually. But I’m able to admit now that a part of me was relieved.” I sigh. “Now, I’m definitely relieved. Last night was a stark reminder of why we aren’t right for one another.” My hands clench at the memory, the sharpness of Céline’s words still ringing in my ears.
“Are you wondering if you made a mistake moving to Vancouver?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I love it here. But everything is just a mess. Céline makes me feel guilty for leaving her, but I know that’s just her fear. If she truly cared about me, she’d see that this is where I need to be.” I let out a ragged sigh.
Janelle’s head tilts, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re braver than you think. Starting over takes courage. And it sounds like that’s really what you want to do.”
I take another sip from my glass.
Janelle leans back in her seat, her gaze steady on mine. “And how do you feel about Lucy? Where does she fit into all of this?”
“She’s wonderful. I want her to be part of my future, but I—” I force myself to take a steadying breath. “She’s nothing like Céline, and spending time with her has helped me see all the things that were missing from my previous relationship.” A lump forms in my throat. “But I have to convince her of that. I’ve been dealing with the confusion of this mess from the beginning, and I haven’t been entirely fair to her. And then she came over right in the middle of Céline’s tantrum yesterday…” I scrub my hands over my face. “I’ve made it as clear as I can to Céline that I am done with our relationship, but I can’t guarantee she’s heard me. Lucy may not want all this mess. I’m not exactly a catch right now.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Janelle replies, a smile touching the corners of her lips. “We’ve all got our baggage. What matters is finding someone who helps you unpack it, not someone who adds to the load.”
I nod. That’s it exactly. Her words are comforting, offering a glimpse of hope in the dark tangle of my thoughts. “Do you know where Lucy might be today?”
The door jingles, and Janelle turns toward a group of newcomers, laughter heralding their arrival. She stands. “Sorry, I don’t. And I have to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”
I thank her, and my gaze drifts across the room, finding a few faces from the hospital. They’re a comforting sight, reminders of routine and normalcy. We exchange pleasantries, and their words are kind, but I find no solace in the banalities of work schedules and weather predictions.
Restlessness gnaws at me, urging me to move, to escape. Leaving cash on the table, I wave to Janelle as I walk out the door. I’ll just do one more pass by Lucy’s place. Maybe she’s home now. I’d feel so much better if I could just talk to her.
The result is the same for my second visit to Lucy’s place today. It remains dark, and she does not answer, so I drive home. As I push open the door to my place, I hear Ginny knocking on our adjoining door. I climb the stairs and open it, greeted by the scent of chamomile. She motions me to a backgammon board laid out between mugs of steaming tea.
“Hey,” she says. “How are you doing?”
“I feel a bit like I’m caught in a riptide,” I admit, dropping onto the couch. “I need to talk to Lucy, but I can’t find her.”
“Let’s play,” she suggests, her hand hovering over the stones and dice. “It’ll help take your mind off things.”
Nodding, I join her at the table, and we fall into the rhythm of the game. The clack of ivory stones against the wooden board punctuates our conversation. Each roll of the dice, each strategic maneuver, feels like a metaphor for the choices I’ve been grappling with. Sometimes, it’s not just about the move you make, but how you adapt to the roll you’re given.
Ginny doesn’t press, doesn’t prod; she simply listens, letting me unfold my tale all over again. How I realize Céline and I are not good for each other, and I need to get her to go home. How Lucy is part of my new life here, and she’s shown me so much about how another person can be a true support. We have so much fun together, but I worry Céline’s reappearance and my confusion have wrecked it all. I feel like a broken record after my conversation with Janelle earlier, but perhaps, if I do this enough times, the way forward will finally become clear.
I roll a four and a two, advancing my stones with a distracted flick of my wrist.
“Chance,” she says. “Be honest with yourself.”
I look away, unable to meet her knowing eyes.
The click-clack of the backgammon pieces seems to mock me as Ginny scoops them up after yet another victory. “Chance, you need to think carefully about what you want and what you’re doing with Lucy,” she says, her fingers pausing over the board. “You and Lucy… That’s not just fun, and deep down, you know it.”
I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat, strangled by the truth I’m not ready to face. Instead, I muster a feeble smile, stand, and shuffle toward the door. “Thanks for the game, Gin. I’ll see you later.” But the weight of her gaze follows me out.
Down in my apartment, the silence is deafening. I collapse on my bed, the springs creaking. The ceiling stares back at me, blank and indifferent to the turmoil inside my head. Lucy’s laughter echoes through my memory, her smile flickers behind my closed eyelids.
I let out a sigh and roll to my side, pulling a pillow under my head. It should be simple, shouldn’t it? Move on, start fresh, heal. Yet here I am, more tangled than ever. The thought of Lucy sends a surge of warmth through me, and that scares me a little. This isn’t just fun. It’s not. I’ve fallen—hard—and I don’t know how to get back on firm footing.
My phone rings, and I flinch to find Céline’s name flashing across the screen. A surge of anger wells up within me. I’ve said everything I need to say, and she got up and left, rather than respond. She always expects that I’ll be waiting whenever she’s ready. But not now. I can’t deal with this now. I press the ignore button, but the damage is done. The fragile reprieve I’d found, the hope that she’d actually heard me this time, shatters.
After a minute, I push the play button on the voicemail, and her voice, thick with tears, invades the room. “Chance, I love you. If you want to stay, I’ll stay too. We can make it work.” The words are a plea, a last-ditch attempt to get what she wants, what she thinks she needs.
But it’s too late. I see things so differently now. She’s not the partner I want, no matter where we are. She’ll never be happy until she finds that within herself. I can’t give it to her. I deserve more than what she can offer me. There’s a better way forward. Yet I can’t erase our history. I listen to her sobs, each one a painful reminder of what used to be. A decade of my life is now reduced to a voicemail full of empty promises. I turn away, pressing my face into the pillow to muffle the sound, but it’s no use. I hear every word.
“Too late,” I whisper to the emptiness around me. Too late for us, Céline. My heart is elsewhere, entangled in a mess of feelings for someone who’s shown me what it means to truly live. Lucy has claimed the parts of me I thought were beyond repair. And there’s no turning back now.
I sit up, the edges of my vision blurry with a cocktail of anger and revelation. I press my hands to my eyes, as if I could physically wipe away Céline’s words, wipe away the years entwined with regret.
Ginny’s right; she’s always been right. Lucy and I—there’s a depth to us, something real and profound that’s grown in the spaces between our laughter and shared experiences.
Love . That’s what this gnawing, insistent ache must be. Not the comfortable, worn-in love I thought I had with Céline, but something raw and fierce that threatens to consume me whole. With Céline, it was about enduring, surviving another day of cold words and colder silences. But with Lucy? It’s about thriving, about the rush of blood through veins and the hunger for another smile, another touch.
“Lucy.” Her name is a whisper, a prayer, a curse all at once. What I’ve built with her offers a chance at something real, something vital. But I have to convince her it’s real, that Céline’s not a factor, even if she refuses to disappear.
I lean my forehead against the cool glass of my window, feeling my heart beat against my chest. It’s not about Céline anymore; it never really was. It’s about what comes next, about the terrifying, exhilarating possibility of letting go and falling into something new, side by side.
I just need to explain all this to her. If only I could find her. I feel the evening stretching out before me, and it makes me a little panicky.
I thumb out a text message to Lucy.
Me: I tried stopping by, but you weren’t home. Can we talk?