Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
In the movies when someone is breaking up with a long-term partner, they always have a box of their things ready to go.
How pathetic is it that I don’t have a single thing of Jace’s in my entire apartment, and he doesn’t have anything of mine? Is that a sign I should have seen sooner?
I’ve spent the last three days mentally preparing myself to end my relationship.
Jace’s reaction on Sunday cemented my decision for me, and I figured it’s best to get it over with.
I’ve stocked my favorite ice cream and have my favorite movie queued up and ready to go for after.
I even asked for tomorrow off so I can have a day to sit in my feelings.
Nerves fill my stomach with anxious butterflies as he knocks on the door. When I open it for him, he’s looking at his phone and walks right past me, heading towards the bedroom. My nerves mix with irritation and I ball my hands into fists.
If today were a normal date night, I’d follow behind him and start undressing, go through the same motions I’ve gone through countless times before. When he realizes I’m not following him, he huffs and shoves his phone in his pocket.
“Are you still being unreasonable?” His tone is filled with exasperation.
I square my shoulders, putting on an air of confidence I don’t feel. The last time I broke up with someone, it was Davis. I survived that heartbreak thinking he was the love of my life. I know Jace isn’t the love of my life, so this should be much easier.
“I was never being unreasonable.” I take a deep breath and decide it’s best to just rip off the bandaid. “I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. We clearly have conflicting wants, and it’s not fair to either of us to have to compromise where we aren’t willing to.”
His features harden, a scowl forming on his face. “You’re breaking up with me? Over me not wanting to…” God, he can’t even say it.
And he called me immature?
“Fuck me?” I finish for him. “Partially, yes. But mostly, it’s because you’re unwilling to try anything new, and I want a fresh start when I move for my new job.
We’ve been dating for two years, and you haven’t ever said you love me.
You’ve given no indication that you want to move in together, and we barely see each other. ”
“I thought you were fine with this arrangement! I’m not a mind reader, Sutton. You have to tell me what you want.”
“I have. Multiple times. You brushed me off every time, or blatantly ignored me.”
“So, what? That’s it? We’re just done? What about our plan? I was going to propose in a year. We could move in together then! Then we can get married and start having kids. You can quit your silly job and stay home and be a mom.”
“My job is not silly, and I don’t want to quit and stay home with kids. I intend to work for this team as long as I’m able to. You would know that if you actually listened to me.”
“Why am I expected to listen to every word you say? I have things to do. That’s why our relationship worked. You don’t require much attention, and you can stick to a schedule.”
My mind swirls back to when I was sixteen.
My mother told me I should have put my award ceremony on the calendar so her and my father could work around my brother’s baseball schedule.
I did. I put it there two months prior, but they never cared to look because they said I didn’t need as much attention as my siblings.
The hurt I thought I’d long since gotten over rushes back up. I never got to tell my mother how her words affected me, and I likely never will. Academic award ceremonies don’t mean shit when your younger brother is expected to be the next Babe Ruth, even though he hates baseball.
“Maybe I don’t require much attention, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve or want it.”
Jace sighs like I’m exhausting him. “Do you know how it will look to my parents that you broke up with me? They’ve been begging me to find someone more suitable for our entire relationship.”
The barb lands, stinging my self-esteem. I knew his parents didn’t like me, but to have confirmation makes me feel so stupid. “I genuinely don’t give two fucks about what your parents think. Tell them you broke up with me, I don’t care, but I’m done. Please leave.”
“That’s it? Two years down the drain because I don’t want to do pottery or be seduced on a random Sunday?”
It’s more than the pottery class or the seduction. It’s the lack of passion, of care. It’s the fact he doesn’t listen to me, and clearly has no intent to change that. It’s infuriating that he doesn't get it.
He won’t, either, because in his mind, this relationship was perfect. He didn’t see that I wasn’t satisfied. He never would have if I hadn’t said something.
“It’s not as simple as that, but I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Fine.” He sniffs, rolling his shoulders back. “Good luck finding someone better. I don’t think there’s a single man alive who would agree to go to a pottery class with you.”
“I hope you find the perfect woman for your needs, Jace. Best of luck out there.” I open the front door and practically shoo him out. He stomps out of my apartment, huffing under his breath.
When I no longer hear his footsteps, I shut the door and lean against it, waiting for the heartbreak to come. I wait, listening to the kids next door squeal with laughter and the whistle of wind outside my window.
I wait, and wait, and wait for the pain. When it’s time for my nightly journaling and it still doesn’t come, I take that as a sign, and go to sleep.
Another tear slips free as I finish spilling the memory to Rebecca.
She passes me a fresh box of tissues, and I drop my gaze from the object I focused on while I spoke.
Her office is an eclectic mish-mash of various items, and today, I chose a green mug that gives the illusion that a snake is stuck inside the clay, and the snake’s tail is the handle.
The snake is black with white specks that look like little constellations.
When I first saw it today, I immediately thought of Ezra’s thigh tattoo. Ezra’s been on my mind all day—and all last night, too.
Today’s session started out with my therapist asking me if there was anything I wanted to talk about, and I immediately asked what the proper amount of time is for moving on after a break up.
If she was shocked by my line of questioning, she has an excellent poker face. So far we’ve mostly focused on my relationship with my parents, but I’ve briefly talked about Jace, here and there.
She asked me if I felt comfortable giving her details about our break up, and it was easy enough to tell her the penultimate moment with Jace.
“You seem to be handling it well,” Rebecca notes, looking up at me over the rim of her glasses.
“Is that a joke? I’m literally crying just talking about it,” I let out a watery laugh.
“No, it isn’t a joke. Crying is how our bodies regulate big feelings, and just bringing up that memory brought up a lot of emotions. It’s normal to cry, healthy even.”
“Is it bad that I’m not more upset? Isn’t lack of remorse a sign of being a sociopath or something?”
Rebecca chuckles, shaking her head of grayish white hair. “It’s not bad, Sutton. The remorse or grief could come at a later time, or you could simply move on with your life and not give it a second thought. Have you had any regrets about your decision to end things with Jace since moving?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’ve never felt lighter.” I woke up energized. I considered going to work today, even though I called in sick last night, too overwhelmed with all my feelings to consider seeing Ezra today.
“Actually, today I walked down the block to the coffee shop I usually go to and asked the barista to make me something new.” She made me a s’mores cold brew instead of my usual iced caramel latte with almond milk, and it was delicious.
At my admission Rebecca whoops loudly. “Look at you! I’m so proud of you, Sutton.”
“It’s just a small thing,” I mumble.
“Small changes make the big ones easier.”
“I also signed up for a pottery class. My friend Ezra went with me.” That bit of information makes my cheeks heat.
“Good for you! How do you know Ezra? I don’t believe you’ve brought him up before.”
“Well, he’s a player on the team I work for, and we knew each other back when I lived in New York. I dated his brother when we were teenagers.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, but she quickly schools her features. “That’s… good. Having a familiar face at the class will definitely make it easier. Ezra seems like a good friend, if he’s agreed to it.”
“He’s an incredible friend…” Now that this conversation is happening, I’m not sure I want to share him with anyone yet. Even my therapist.
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” When I don’t say anything, or confirm, she crosses her legs. “Does Ezra have something to do with why you asked about when it’s appropriate to move on?”
I can’t manage more than a shy nod.
Rebecca nods slowly and sets her notebook aside, crossing one leg over the other.
“Sutton, I’m not going to lie to you and say that dating someone new is going to be easy, especially given your complicated history with him.
Moving on with someone new, after a two year relationship would probably be difficult no matter who it is.
But maybe it won’t, I don’t know everything.
I don’t know what your job’s rules are surrounding workplace romance, or if it would risk your career, or his.
I can’t tell you when it’s okay to move on,” she takes a deep breath, and smiles.
“I can tell you that unless you’re actively hurting someone, there’s no rules about moving on.
Some people can adjust quickly, others take years.
Does he know you have feelings for him?”
“No. I… I just admitted them to myself yesterday.”
“I see. Well, I think you need to revisit what it is you want, and decide if giving in to your feelings for him fits into your future. Because of your position on the team, you have to ask yourself if you’d be willing to risk your job.”
“Do you think I should ignore them and hope they go away?”
“Remember what I said about growth?”
“Sometimes it can only come with uncomfortable changes.”
“Exactly. So you have to make that choice. In the meantime, let’s talk about the correlation between how your parents treated you, and the way Jace treated you, so you don’t make that mistake again.
” She chuckles when I wince and shrink down in my chair.
“I know, I know. But this is why you pay me the big bucks.”
Who knew paying someone to bring up your trauma, and help you work through it, would actually be beneficial?