Chapter Thirty-Two
The Dark Moment—the part of the story where all is lost.
I am devastated.
For the first time, Nathan does online checkout. He leaves early. I’m both relieved and upset by it.
I wish I could talk to him again. I wish I could be with him again. Instead, I open the door to room 32 and sit on the edge of the bed for a long moment. This was his room. I thought maybe I was in a romance novel. All the tropes were there.
I tricked myself, honestly. I thought, Great, time to start writing a new story, and I was so sure I knew what genre I was in.
But as angry as I am, I immediately check myself. More has changed in me for the good in the last few weeks than in the last three years. I can’t deny that. I can’t deny that he was instrumental in it.
At the same time, I want to be wounded, and furious. At the same time, I want to feel like everything is over.
It feels like it might be.
It really does.
Instead of letting that crush me, I marvel at my own strength. At my own fearlessness. Because here I am with a broken heart. I chose to put myself out there, even though it was scary.
“I’m brave,” I say into the empty room, and then I laugh, because what a hollow victory my bravery feels like at the moment.
Elise and Ben took me home from A Very Desert Christmas, and I immediately left them and went to my room to have a small mental breakdown beneath the hot spray of the shower, as God intended.
I am curious about how she and Ben got together, though, and I table discussion of my heartbreak so that we can talk about it. When I leave room 32, I find Elise, and the two of us go out for coffee and pastries while Gladys watches Emma.
“So,” I say. “How did it happen?”
“ I want to know what exactly happened with Nathan.”
“My story is sad,” I say.
“Well. I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and honestly, there wasn’t much discussion to be had after that. We’ve both felt this way about each other for a long time. I’m scared, because I don’t know what the future looks like. What I do know about Ben is he isn’t going to transform into a monster. I’ve known him for such a long time. I also know what I want now. I know how to communicate. So, I’m ready to try this adult-relationship thing.”
I grimace. “Well, I’m happy for you.”
She looks down at her coffee, then back up at me. “He turned you down.”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s not as simple as ... I don’t know. He was married, Elise. His wife died. He doesn’t want ... He doesn’t want to get hurt again.”
Elise is thoughtful for a long moment. “I understand that. I mean, not the same. I also understand being really scared about repeating the same thing you’ve already been through.”
“She was the love of his life.”
Elise nods. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. It hurts. It hurts really bad. I don’t want to begrudge this poor woman, this woman who died way too young, the love that he has for her. It feels petty to be jealous. It’s just, she’s dead and his love isn’t doing her any good. It’s just that she got to have him to the end of her life. And what about mine? What about his?” I feel guilty saying that.
“It’s true, though,” Elise says. “Just like my continued fear of Emma’s dad doesn’t keep him any farther away. What those really strong feelings do is keep you safe. I’m sure ... He loves you, Amelia. I have never seen a man look at a woman the way he does you. Except when Ben looks at me. It’s love. I’m sure of it. I’m also sure that he can’t do it. Out of fear. Why do you think the guy spent three years coming back to the motel? He has feelings for you.”
She isn’t totally right about that, because I know the whole circumstance of it. But it does make me think. He took so many years to write Sarah’s memoir because to finish it would be to let her go.
At the same time, I’ve been in his face, his life. This complication he didn’t want. He’s been keeping himself suspended in a place where he didn’t have to let go, and he didn’t have to embrace anything new.
He didn’t have to embrace what could be next for him. What could hurt him again. So complicated and so simple, all at the same time. He was in this strange place where he was supposed to let it all go. Her and me.
He probably has no idea what that means for him. What that means for his life. I’m also sure that he thought it was going to be easy to let me go. That he didn’t think I was going to fall in love with him. He probably didn’t think he was going to fall in love with me. I believe he did. I sit with that certainty. I believe he did. That is maybe the saddest thing about all of this.
“Well, I can’t chase him down. I guess at least I can say that after years of babying myself, I took a risk, and I got hurt. That’s what I’ve been doing, coddling myself. In not telling you about ...”
“Emma,” Elise says. “I wish I would’ve known. This whole time. Just because ...”
“You have been really wonderful. You could’ve gotten mad at me for not telling you, you know, anything about me.”
“Of course I’m not mad. Not all pain is the same pain. We don’t all feel pain in the same way. How you needed to deal with your loss, that’s up to you. I can’t imagine how much it hurt for you to end up here and meet my daughter who had the same name as yours.”
“At first, I kind of separated the two. Now, I think it’s lovely that you have your beautiful Emma. I love to hear that name. I do.”
“I’m just so sorry about all of this. What can I do?” Elise asks.
“Take me to Desierto Encanto and help me pick up dudes?”
“Really?”
“No,” I say. “Sadly, that has never been how I try to get over things.”
“A real tragedy.”
“Right? I’m no fun. No. Just keep being my friend. Because this is where I actually change instead of reverting to type. This is where I actually find peace, dammit.”
Except really I’m sad. I contain multitudes in this new world, apparently.
The ability to be happy and sad and new all at once. “Don’t let me fold in on myself,” I say as we exit the coffee place.
“I won’t,” she says. “You live close. I’ll come for you if you start to fall apart.”
“Thank you.”
I drive back to the motel, and it’s nearly time for checkout, so it’s time for me to get behind the desk. I open my Word document, and then I open a new one. I’m going to finish my book on time, heartbreak notwithstanding.
I have a new idea. A different one. One thing I don’t want is to contract in on myself after this, as tempting as it is. I’m still going to write about love, because I still believe in it. Because I still feel like that’s what he and I had.
I’m going to try something new. This is addicting. Taking risks. Putting myself out there. Suddenly I feel like everything inside me is worth it. Really, truly worth it. I am owed recognition. What I’m offering the world matters. What I was offering to him matters, whether he realizes it or not.
I sniff loudly into the silence of the reception area, and I tell myself that I’m not on the verge of tears.
I check out a wave of guests and prepare for the lull. Christmas is in two days, and for the most part, people don’t check in this close to Christmas. I look out at this room that has given me so much joy. It still does. Because it’s mine.
The door opens, and I look up. For a moment I think I might be hallucinating. There is no way Nathan Hart just walked into the lobby.
That’s when I realize.
I thought it was the end, but it wasn’t.
Because it wasn’t happy.