Chapter 30
THIRTY
JOSIE
For a week, I ignore all of Colby’s calls and text messages.
I just can’t deal with them. My brain is rumbling, trying so hard to process everything, but the wheels and chaos keep spinning.
Nothing is any clearer than the day I left her house.
My heart still hurts, my thoughts are jumbled, and I miss her to the deepest part of my core.
That first day she messaged and called multiple times, and I didn’t respond.
The next day, she sent a few messages. And then for a week, one single message a day letting me know that she wasn’t going anywhere and was here if or when I wanted to talk.
Three days ago, I sent her a text and asked if she would stop contacting me and she did. Just like that.
Seventy-two hours later, not one single word. And I hate the silence as much as I hated the messages.
With my legs tucked underneath me on my couch, I reread the last one she sent me before I asked for space. Again.
I swear I’m not playing games, but now I wish she would message me once more, so I know that she didn’t forget about me. Because I sure as hell haven’t forgotten about her.
I said I need space, and I know I should take space, but deep down, it’s not space I’m wanting. I want to transport back to the time when I didn’t know Colby lied.
My father lied. For six months, he carried on an affair, lied, and left.
And of course, there’s an underlying fear that I’m reliving my childhood trauma here.
I don’t need a therapist to tell me that I’m drawing parallels between my father’s affair and Colby’s deception.
But it feels kind of justified. Colby hid the truth, she lied about how she spends her time, she pretends to be someone she’s not for hours a day while I’m sitting at work, completely clueless.
And not only that, she talks about a wife.
She actively talks about a freaking wife that she adores and does anything she can to make that woman happy.
She uses examples of their relationship to teach and guide other people on how to be a better partner.
And yes, I know we just started dating, and I’m not comparing myself to Amelia, but it still really fucking hurts.
During the time Colby talked about Amelia, did she think about me at all?
Did she completely put me out of her brain like I was nothing?
Worthless? Maybe she compartmentalizes. She said that Ruby Reanne was a character, and I get that.
When actors are on set and kissing other actors, they probably don’t think of their spouse back home.
But my guess is that the actor’s partner knows exactly what the hell they’re doing.
And I had no idea. Every single day since I met her, I had absolutely no idea that Colby leads this secret life.
My dad had a whole other life. During the day he did whatever with that woman.
At night, he hung out with the family and took me fishing, and showed me how to build fires, and I had absolutely no clue.
No one did. He seemed happy. Colby seemed happy.
And reconciling the similarities in those two scenarios is too much.
Since everything happened with Colby, it seems I spend all my time simply thinking.
In the exam rooms, I smile at the kittens getting spayed, and the dogs getting their wellness check, and yet I’m inundated with thoughts.
I bring in lab reports from a pet chicken with a terrible bronchial issue, and follow up with post-op calls, and walk through deworming medication.
And yet, I can’t seem to gather my thoughts enough to make any sort of decision.
I’m still upset, I’m still hurt, and I still think what Colby did was wrong. The question is, can I forgive her? Honestly, probably. What she’s done isn’t unforgivable. But can I both forgive her and allow space in my heart for us to repair our relationship? That, I don’t know.
I need to process. I thought sitting in my apartment might help.
I’m not running from a quiet space and forcing my brain to seek out stimuli to forget, but still, the quiet in these four uninspiring walls is not working.
The longer I sit here, the more my brain rattles with scattered, nearly incoherent thoughts, the further away I get from any clarity I need.
I want to be taking my walk on Colby’s property, my new happy place, but that’s not a smart plan for many reasons. But I do need to get out of here.
I flip my legs off the couch, throw on my tennis shoes, and grab my keys. Thirty minutes later, I roll up to a public parking space at one of the Lake Superior beaches and get out of the car.
The air is springy, carrying the trace scent of budding trees and the fresh mineral from the lake.
My brain needs to fully process, and this is the place to do it.
I walk the graveled, rocky path down to the lake and stare out at the endless water.
The wind is a bit higher today than yesterday, making the lake roar with crashing waves that turn into the white noise I’m craving.
Along my walk, I pick up smooth rocks from the shore and shove them into my jacket pocket.
My shoes squish into the sand as I travel the beach and I keep hiking until I find a huge piece of driftwood that I can sit on.
It’s cold, but crisp and rejuvenating, and after several long, biting lungfuls of air, my brain slowly starts to organize.
I dig a handful of rocks from my pocket and toss them into the water, mesmerized by the way the waves swallow them whole.
My heartbeat slows and steadies, the muddled thoughts start to take on their own lane.
Once the rocks are all tossed, I begin breaking twigs against my thighs and toss them into the water, too, one by one.
I don’t want to let go of what Colby and I have.
I really don’t. After Zoey, I didn’t think I’d ever find another woman that I could fully open myself up to like this.
Sure, along the way to find Colby, I fell hard and fast for all the others, but I know in my soul that this is different.
From the beginning, everything with Colby has felt different.
Stable, warm, genuine. Until now. And the idea of letting this go, breaking my heart, and trying to move on again, makes my gut turn on itself.
And yet, I can’t just call Colby and tell her that it’s all okay.
Because it’s not. Do I understand why she uses a stage name?
Of course I do. That is the easiest piece of this entire situation to grasp.
I imagine that a lot of people in her business have some sort of stage name.
But lying to me all this time and talking about Amelia like she was alive and still married to her… That, I just can’t let go.
On the way home, I do something that I really don’t want to do, but I need to in order to get my final piece of clarity.
I pull up one of her episodes since we’ve been together.
And then I keep driving, past my apartment, and pull up another.
The episodes are shorter than what I remember, some of them encores, but it’s still her.
I keep driving, down the highway, listening to episode after episode, begging for this not to be reality.
She talks about Amelia in every single one.
This is not jealousy. This is me on the sidelines, feeling every sense of abandonment I felt since I was twelve years old. This is me, feeling invisible and not worthy. But now I know that I am worthy. I know in my heart that I deserve more.
And so, even though I can feel the heaviness in my heart, even though my eyes are dried and aching from crying, even though I wish it could be different, I’ve made my decision. I need to talk to Colby.
And let her know that we are done.