Chapter 13 #2
“I’m sure that was hard to hear,” Esther says, tilting her head. “You were Hunter’s first love, and he was heartbroken. But ultimately, you spared him a lot more pain by ending the relationship before you got married.”
I shake my head, tears spilling onto my lap. “No, Hunter was right…I wasted his time…and if I could do it all over again, I never would have given back the ring…if I’d known that I would ruin his life…”
I can hardly see Esther through my tears. I can barely hear her over my cries.
When I told Vanessa about Hunter, I gave her an abbreviated version. I didn’t revisit every moment in my head, didn’t relive every word we spoke, the way I’m doing now. It’s unbearable. I bury my face in my hands.
Several seconds later, I feel the couch cushions move as Esther sits beside me. She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Why do you think you ruined his life, honey? Are you still in touch with him?”
I take a ragged breath. “I wish I were.”
“Did you ever try reaching out?”
My gaze lifts to meet hers. “I can’t,” I say, simply .
I think she understands why I’ll never speak to Hunter again. Something shifts on her face—from sympathy to heartache. I can tell by her frown that she hopes she’s wrong, and I find myself feeling sorry for her, and wishing I had a different answer to the question in her eyes.
But I don’t, so I tell her the truth. “I can’t reach out to Hunter…because he died.”
Esther lets me cry on her couch for a good ten minutes.
She hands me a glass of water, and even offers me tea.
I ask her if we’re running out of time, and she only smiles and tells me not to worry.
I say I have a friend waiting for me downstairs, and she encourages me to check in with her.
Vanessa insists I stay as long as I need.
She’s keeping busy, writing emails in her car.
So I tell Esther I’d love a cup of chamomile. She prepares it, then takes her seat across from me again.
After a few sips, I’m calm enough to continue our session.
“Did you ever see Hunter again after that night?” she asks, her brows knitted together.
“Not for a while. We’d just graduated, so I packed up my things and drove home to Beachwood for the summer.
And I assumed he was at his parents’ house, not far from Ann Arbor.
Then I went back to Michigan and started grad school, and I was sufficiently distracted—until he called me.
It was November 9, 2002. I’ll never forget the date.
“When I saw his name come up on my phone, I was afraid he was going to ask me to get back together. I didn’t want to have to break his heart all over again. The more time that passed, the more I felt sure I didn’t want kids.
“But that’s not why he was calling, Esther. And I feel guilty, to this day, for the dread in my gut when I picked up the phone, worrying that he wanted me back. If only that were the reason he reached out.”
“You couldn’t have known, dear.”
“No…I guess I couldn’t have.” I take a sip of tea.
“It came as a total shock when he told me he’d been to the doctor earlier that week, and that he’d just gotten back his test results.
He said he was sick…but he didn’t elaborate.
And I was too terrified to ask him what was wrong.
I just wanted to know if he was going to be okay. When I asked, he said he hoped so.
“I know it wasn’t much, but I held on to that hope. I told him to come see me, and he did. I gave him my address, and he was at my apartment an hour later.
“And he looked good, Esther. A bit thinner maybe, but he didn’t look sick. I was so relieved, I threw my arms around him and kissed him the moment he walked through my door. And the way his eyes lit up…I knew that he still loved me.”
I take a breath before I go on.
“He asked me if we could pretend we never broke up. Just for a weekend. He wanted to go back to how things were before. I said I’d been thinking the same.
And I told him I loved him—because it was true.
That’s why I let him go. I wanted all of his dreams to come true, and I knew his biggest dream was to become a father .
“But we didn’t talk about any of that. We held hands and kissed. We slow danced to our song in my kitchen. And that night, when I took him to my room, we…”
I wipe my eyes. “We made love. We were kissing in bed, and our clothes came off slowly, one piece at a time, and it just happened. It felt so natural…so right. And I knew how meaningful it was for him. It was special for me, too. I’d had sex once before, with Dex, but this was different.
Hunter and I loved each other. And, Esther? ”
“Yes, honey?”
“I’ve never felt loved like that since. It’s been eight years.”
Esther nods, frowning. “I’m so sorry, dear.”
“After that weekend, I asked him to stay with me. I told him I wanted to take care of him. And I meant it. But he said he couldn’t do that to me.
He wanted me to focus on school. He’d had a lot of time to think after I gave back the ring, and he felt awful for not taking my career plans more seriously.
Before he left, I begged him to reconsider… but he said he loved me too much.”
“That’s why he had to let you go,” Esther says. “I imagine his illness put a lot in perspective for him.”
I nod, biting my lip. “I tried keeping in touch. But after a while, he wouldn’t return my calls. Or he’d send short text messages saying he was fine. And then, four months later, his mom called…and told me he’d died. I’ve been a mess ever since.”
Esther leans forward in her chair. “You said earlier that you’d ruined Hunter’s life, but, honey—I don’t see it that way at all.”
“When I look back on our relationship, I don’t think about the beautiful weekend we spent together before he passed away.
I remember the look in his eyes when I gave back the ring.
I remember him saying that I wasted four years of his life.
Those were the last four years of his life, Esther,” I say with a sob.
“They weren’t a waste, dear. He loved you. He came back to you. He wanted to be with you before he died.”
“I loved him, too. So much. And if I hadn’t broken up with him when I did, we would have been together that summer. And maybe I would have noticed something was wrong. Maybe I would have sent him to the doctor sooner, and he could have started treatment earlier, and?—”
“Oh, Jenna,” Esther sighs. I look up, and her eyes are teary, too. “Honey…it’s not your fault that Hunter died.”
I’m crying so hard that she comes back to sit near me on the couch. This is the first time I’ve ever admitted to anyone how guilty I’ve felt all these years. And it’s the first time anyone’s said the words I’ve been desperate to hear.
It’s not your fault.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck there,” I tell her. “I’m thirty now, but a part of me is still twenty-two years old, and grieving the love of my life.”
“That’s a common response to unprocessed trauma,” she says, resting her hand on mine. “But we’re processing it now, together. And you will get through this.”
Just hearing her say that feels like the weight of the world lifts from my shoulders. My head aches from crying, and every muscle in my body is exhausted, but I’m grateful.
“Thanks, Esther. Can I come back again soon?” I sniffle. “Like, tomorrow, maybe? ”
She smiles. “Absolutely.”
I text Vanessa to let her know I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes. And when the elevator door opens, she’s standing in the lobby, waiting for me.
As soon as she sees my tear-streaked face, she pulls me into a hug.