Three
Bri
Good thing Liem is more familiar with navigating subways than I am, or I would have been done for.
Liem has been wringing his hands for our whole journey to his ex’s apartment, accompanied by the violent bouncing of his knees while we were on the subway.
Fearing he’ll make his hands bleed, I pull one away from the other and hold it between mine as we walk.
“Breathe,” I remind him.
With a nod, he takes my suggestion. It seems to work for a block, then he starts absentmindedly tugging at the strings of his hoodie instead.
Arriving at Liem’s ex’s building, a narrow townhome with the New York stoop I always see in movies, seems like a fever dream. It’s nice, newly renovated, must have cost a pretty penny. A tinge of envy hits me.
I thought I would be in a different place in my life by the time I turned thirty.
Fuck an engagement or a wedding, I wanted the big-girl job and the big-girl house, living my big-girl dreams. If this weekend has shown me anything, it’s that I’m about as likely to get my shit together in six months as Liem is to look at his ex without crying.
Liem pulls me to a stop. “I should go in.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“But I need to talk to her. I need to—”
“No. You don’t,” I correct him firmly. “Maybe you want to, but we discussed this. What will you do if you see her?”
He exhales a frustrated sigh. “Cry.”
“And?”
“Beg her to take me back and get dumped for a third time.”
“Exactly. You’re not going in.” The pain pinches his face and wells in his eyes. I pull his hoodie strings from his anxious grasp and tug on them myself. “I got you.”
He looks down at me and acquiesces with a nod.
Leaving him on the sidewalk, I bound up the stairs and buzz N. Phong in 201. She answers quickly. “Yes?”
“Hi, it’s Bri. Here for Liem’s suitcases.”
Her response is the eardrum-shattering buzz of the gate unlocking. I go in, follow the signage to the second floor, and knock on her door.
When it swings open, the woman from Liem’s lock screen seems surprised by my presence.
She is as flawless as her picture. My height with more curves, ageless tan skin, dark hair cut blunt at her shoulders, and the same beautiful eye shape as Liem’s.
She has a stoic, regal air to her. Boss bitch vibes.
Drop your boyfriend in a heartbeat vibes.
“You’re Bri?”
“Yes. Hi. Thanks for letting me—”
“Good god, you’re gorgeous.”
Taken aback, I stammer, “Th-thank you. So are you.”
She eyes me. “How do you know Liem?”
“We’re friends.”
“Liem doesn’t have friends. Who are you, really?”
This feels a bit like an interrogation, but to be fair, I wouldn’t want a stranger in my house either.
The space behind her is the perfect blend of old and new.
Refinished hardwood floors, exposed brick along the party wall, a color scheme of earth tones rather than newcomer white.
Plenty of light floods from the large windows at the end of the deep space.
She has at least three doors, meaning plenty of room to grow.
She plans for someone to be here with her, but not Liem.
After everything Liem has told me, I realize lying to a boss babe with my dream house would be pointless. “We met at the restaurant you went to last night,” I say. “I was the one cussing out her boyfriend at the other table.”
Her eyes widen. “That was you? Oh my god, you were everything! So brave and so real.” Oh no, she’s delightful. “You were my inspiration last night. That’s terrible to say, given the context, but you were.”
I want to hug her, but I force myself to focus on my allegiance to Liem. “So, where are . . . ?”
She steps to the side and points to the two cases sitting upright in the corner. When I see them, I have to hold back a laugh. Of course it’s the same set as mine. Same brand, sizes, and color. The only difference is a very Washingtonian evergreen sticker on the front of his carry-on.
I go to it, unzipping the portions Liem requested, checking for his laptop and, discreetly, verifying the ring box is still wrapped in his socks. It’s all here. At least the most fiscally important parts.
“Is he okay?” Natalie asks.
I zip the case and stand, fighting the urge to tell her off the way I would David.
She is not him, even if she hurt Liem the way he hurt me.
Whether the circumstances of their breakup were better or worse than ours, there’s no sense in comparing when only one of us is crying outside of their ex’s apartment right now.
I try to be as gentle as possible. “Natalie, I don’t know you, and I don’t know what your relationship with Liem was like before this, but no, he’s not okay.
” Her eyes drop from mine with remorse. “He saw himself with you—a forever with you—and you stole that from him in a second. Publicly. Breaking up may have been good for you, but it felt very, very bad for him.”
A rueful sigh tells me I’m correct. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“But you did,” I say. “He lost you. He lost the life he thought he’d have with you.
He is grieving. The least you can do is give him space to go through the emotions he needs to.
” Though I’m using Liem’s name, I’m projecting my own feelings.
If we are as similar to each other as it seems, my words aren’t far from his truth.
“Give him space? Should I go no contact?” Her question is genuine, not accusatory.
“That’s probably best,” I tell her.
“Okay.” Tears begin to well in her eyes. My heart goes out to her even though it shouldn’t.
“You’re not a bad person,” I tell her. “Liem knows that. He hasn’t said a single negative word about you.”
“That’s kind of the problem,” she says, sniffling.
“Liem will be miserable and never say a word if it means he doesn’t have to be alone.
He sacrifices his wants and desires for everyone else—like it’s some social debt he’s required to pay to get someone to love him.
He gave up his job and left his family to follow me when I never even implied that was what I wanted. ”
“That’s kind of sweet, though, isn’t it? Him putting you and your dreams first.”
“Let me rephrase. He gave up a job that paid him three hundred thousand dollars per year, minimum, to follow me.”
I blink. “Three what now?”
“All that after I thought I made it clear I didn’t want anything long-term with him.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I love him, in a way. I do. But is it worth staying with someone you know you’ll never be in love with just because the sex is good? Really, really good.” She stares into space as if picturing it. “So good.”
This is the kind of tea I usually crave. If only we were on the same side of this breakup scenario. “Natalie?”
She rejoins me in the real world. “What was I saying?”
“No future, hot sex.”
“Right,” she agrees. “What I’m trying to say is, it would be wrong for me to let him keep chipping away at himself to fit into the life I built for me. I have my dream job, in my dream apartment, in my dream city. I’m happy in this life I made for myself, and he deserves to feel that way too.”
An anxious ache fills my chest again. Talking to her is like looking at my relationship from the outside.
Did David find his perfect life here as well?
One that didn’t include me? Was all that kept us together proximity and my willingness to accept that my dreams were less tangible than his?
Why else would I have let myself become so reliant on him, pausing my efforts to create the life I’ve always wanted for myself?
I will likely never have the answers to those questions. Nothing can change what happened; I can only move forward, refocusing on me.
“I understand,” I say.
“Could you tell him that for me?” she asks.
I hesitate to say yes. “Maybe you should write it down.”
She disappears into a room for a moment, then returns, extending a folded piece of paper toward me. “Give it to him whenever he’s ready.”
The beauty of our arrangement is that I won’t know Liem after today. Still, I can tell he’s not emotionally prepared to handle whatever she wrote down. I tuck the paper into my back pocket.
“It was nice to meet you, Bri,” she says with a sad smile. “I mean it.”
“It was nice to meet you too.” I hate how that’s true.
For some reason, we both step forward into a hug. A natural reaction for two emotionally available women to have after sharing a moment. The embrace is over before I can question it.
I leave her with a wave, then start my struggle of getting the suitcases down the stairs. At the bottom, I stop, unzip the carry-on, and find the green socks again. I pull out the ring box and flip it open.
My jaw drops. It’s big, but it’s generic as hell. A round solitaire on a plain, gold band. Quick and thoughtless. Coming from anyone else, I’d assume it was a Here, damn ring. Maybe everything Natalie said was true.
I fold the note into a smaller square, tuck it into the lid of the box, and return the ring to its original location. If he ever opens it to lament again, he’ll see what she would have said had he proposed. No what-if.
Back outside, I’m grateful for the fresh air, even with the heat that comes with it.
Until now, I’ve felt trapped in yesterday’s shadow.
Helping Liem, talking to Natalie, has pushed me back into the light and helped me see that what I truly want is to regain my independence and create the life I want for me.
Liem spots me and stands from the neighboring stairs, his expression full of hope. “What did she say?”
He doesn’t care about his suitcases or getting the ring back. He wants the two things he can’t have: Natalie and closure. “Nothing she hasn’t said already.”
His brow furrows. “Nothing at all?”
I grasp his waist gently, as if to keep him from running from my words. “Liem . . . the story hasn’t changed, and it’s not going to. We can either accept what happened and try to move forward, or we can stay right here and keep torturing ourselves.”
He looks away, blinking back tears. I give his sides a light squeeze for emphasis.
“It’s over,” I remind him.