NINE
Two weeks before leaving for Paris, it happened. I ran into Michael. At my favorite Starbucks—ruined. I may never return. It felt like some twisted cosmic joke.
Of all people, he was the last person I wanted to see, yet there he was. He stood with a look that teetered between guilt and uncertainty—an expression I had no patience for.
I made it two blissful months without having to think about him. I thought NewYork City was big enough to avoid this for a little longer.
Plus, I’m mainly in Chelsea and he’s in the Financial District—basically different countries.
"Charlie," he started, his voice softer than I remembered, as if that would increase my reception to his presence. To be fair, he wasn’t occupying any space in my head. I was just annoyed at his face—and the fact I had to talk to him.
I smiled, erasing any trace of emotion, "Michael. How are you?"
He hesitated, like he was still figuring out what to say. He jumped right off the cliff, "I’ve been meaning to talk to you."
“Yeah, well you know where to find me,”
I tried keeping my disdain to a minimum. I wanted to roll my eyes, to cut him. But something in the way he stood there, almost pleading, made me pause. I wasn’t a mean person—and I didn’t hate him. Don’t get me wrong, I hated what he did to me. People are not perfect and men are stupid. Not all of them, but some can be. He looked like he was trying to access emotions he didn’t own—awkward. I didn’t want to give him that chance, but curiosity won. "What did you want to talk about with me."
He sighed, his gaze locking onto mine like he was searching for some crack of forgiveness. "I’ve been doing some thinking. When your dad died, everything in your life changed. I could see how much you were hurting. I tried to be there for you, but you—part of you just disappeared. Charlie, you stopped being you. I get it. I know that’s what grief does, but after a while, it felt like you were just going through the motions with us."
At the mention of my dad, a familiar pang clenched my chest. "Really, that’s what you wanted to say. You’re not going to lead with an apology? Thank you for realizing that the death of dad changed me. I don’t think that validates cheating, but I could be wrong," I said, the accusation landing hard.
He flinched, but didn’t back down. "It wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan on any of it. It just... happened. She was there, giving me what I needed. She made me feel noticed, like I wasn’t invisible. I really like her, Charlie."
"Great. I’m happy for you," I said bitterly while trying to not be bitter. I’m upset over his bullshit excuses. This isn’t how I wanted to start my day. I just wanted my Americano! "That doesn’t excuse what you did. I would never have cheated on you. Not even considered it."
"I know it doesn’t," he said, his tone sharper now, frustrated. "But, what did you expect me to do? You shut me out. It was like I didn’t exist to you anymore. Not in a way that mattered. Our life was reduced to after work dinners, sex and attending events. I’m not saying I handled it right, but I didn’t know how to reach you. And after a while, I didn’t think you wanted to be reached."
I stared at him, a mix of anger and sadness brewing inside me. "A conversation would have helped!"
He said quickly, "I’m not saying it’s your fault, but what was I supposed to do? You didn’t want me, not really. Not anymore. I thought maybe... maybe you were meant to be alone. I know that sounds harsh, but sometimes it felt like that was what you wanted."
I recoiled as if he had slapped me. "I didn’t want to be cheated on. Breaking up I can understand, but I didn’t deserved to be disrespected. Despite you thinking I wanted to be alone, we’re fucking adults Michael.“
He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know, Charlie. I’m just saying, we’re both in a place where it couldn’t have worked long term. Maybe... maybe it’s better this way. For both of us."
"Better?" I echoed, incredulous. "I am not disagreeing with you, but this is a very shitty Ted Talk."
"I just mean... maybe you needed space to figure yourself out, to deal with everything. I clearly wasn’t the one to help you do that. I just... I don’t want you to hate me, Charlie."
I shook my head, my emotions spinning wildly. "You broke my trust, Michael. I don’t hate you—I just don’t need you in my life."
He nodded, his face falling. "I didn’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to understand that I didn’t set out to hurt you. I don’t want us to be strangers, Charlie. After everything... I don’t want us avoiding each other like we never mattered."
I looked at him, at the boy who had once, even if just for a brief minute, been my world, and I felt nothing but a hollow ache. "You do seem to get everything you want.”
Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there with his half-baked justifications and his empty apologies. He could think what he wanted, but I knew the truth. Only in his world did that conversation have any impact on my life. Except, he was right—my dad’s death destroyed me. Yes, I parts of me shut down. But that didn’t excuse him. It didn’t make what he did okay. Maybe Michael was right about one thing—we were over long before he found someone else.
Michael wasn’t the love of my life, but he was someone I cared for, someone I’d once imagined building a life with. But the truth is, after my dad died, I couldn’t fully let anyone else in. Loving my dad was easy, natural—it was the kind of love that was big and beautiful and unconditional. Losing him felt like losing the sun; everything after was just dim. I didn’t dare love anyone that much again, because how could I survive losing it?
I don’t have all the answers, but I knew it started with acknowledging the truth. I loved my dad with all my heart, and losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. But I can’t let that stop me from living—can’t let it close me off from love and happiness again.
I wanted a life that feels true—a life that reflected who I am and what I cared about. I wanted to travel, to experience the world, to meet new people and learn new things.
I wanted to create my future, to make something beautiful and lasting. And yes, I wanted love—but not the kind that confines or diminishes me. I wanted a love that challenged me, that made me better, that added to my life rather than taking away from it.
Me: Would you rather find true love tomorrow or win the lottery next year?
Lena: How much is the lottery?
Me: Touché.
Me: Do you think money can make you happy?
Lena: Money can make you happier, but not happy.
Lena: Having money buys time.
Me: What makes you happy?
Lena: Petting puppies
Lena: Love, art, travel, freshly washed sheets, bakeries, and laughing!
Me: You make me happy!
Lena: I love you.
Lena: Money comes and goes. Being happy is a choice.
Me: You’re so wise!
Me: Just saw Michael.
Lena: On purpose?
Me: Fuck no!
Me: He told me my dad dying was the reason he cheated. “You were detached.”
Fun conversation…and at my favorite Starbies. I can never go back.
Lena: WTF?!?! Who says that? Nobody does. I can’t even with him.
Lena: In two days, you will be in Paris.
Lena: Find a fuck boy. Get it out of your system.
Me: I just spit out my coffee!
Lena: BC you know I’m right.
Me: You’re not wrong!