Thirteen
I WAKE UP LATE THE next morning. I know it’s late even before I open my eyes.
It feels that way.
Late and bright and weirdly oppressive.
Prying my eyes open, I lift my head and see that Isaac is still in bed beside me. He’s obviously gotten up without my knowing because he’s put back on the T-shirt and pajama pants he wore last night, a cup of coffee is on the nightstand behind him, and he’s reading something on his phone.
He smiles when he sees I’m awake. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I mumble, dropping my head back to the pillow and pulling the covers up over my face with a groan.
He chuckles and tucks his fingers under the covers, drawing them back down to reveal my face. “How do you feel?”
“Like a melodramatic mufflehead with a hangover.”
He sets down his phone and rolls on his side to face me. “What’s a mufflehead?”
“A mufflehead is me.”
Still laughing, he pulls me forward into a light hug. “Then a mufflehead is a very good thing to be.”
I can’t help but smile at his affectionate tone, but I’m not in the mood or condition for a lot of snuggling this morning, so it’s not long before I pull away and force myself to sit up. “Okay,” I say. “Here’s what I’m thinking about things.”
“I’m listening.” He sounds curious with just an edge of excitement.
“I’m going to stand up. Go to the bathroom. Drink water. Drink coffee. And take a shower.”
For just a moment, I sense something odd from him. Almost like disappointment. But I must be imagining it because he laughs out loud and reaches for his phone again. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”
***
T HE DAY ISN’T ALL THAT good even though Isaac is as sweet and funny and considerate as I could hope for.
That heavy pit low in my gut doesn’t go away. In fact, it sinks deeper. Grows heavier. And in some ways, Isaac’s thoughtful warmth makes it worse.
We hang out and take it easy until midafternoon. By then I feel basically human. Which is good because we have a flight back to Savannah later today.
I need to go home.
And I won’t be flying back to Boston again anytime soon.
Whatever tenuous space for feeling things out we had for the past couple of months is over now. Once Isaac’s job in Savannah is done, our paths won’t cross at all.
At all.
And I don’t see a solution that’s not going to be wrenchingly hard or completely uproot my whole life.
If we were serious—if we were in love—then maybe the sacrifices required to make this relationship work would be worth it.
I’d give up a lot for someone I love.
But Isaac and I are only getting started. It’s way too early for whole-life changes, and trying a long-distance thing for a while will only prolong the inevitable.
Eventually, if we’re going to have a life together, one of us will have to move.
And Isaac’s job is in Boston. He’s on his way up the corporate ladder, and moving to Savannah would take a machete to his entire career.
But I don’t want to move either. I would have to give up everything I’ve built for myself. And what would happen to me if and when Isaac decides he’s had enough? That his little fling with a quirky, emotionally complicated woman has reached its expiration date and he wants to get back to a woman like Sophie, who better suits the social ambitions he’s always had?
It’s such a risk. Too much of a risk. I can’t leave my entire world for a relationship that’s never gone beyond the casual stage.
Isaac might have somehow become the most important thing in my life, but I’ve let my heart run me off cliffs before.
I’m not a silly girl anymore.
I have to make a good decision.
My life might not look particularly impressive to the rest of the world, but it’s mine. I love it. I like my job, and I love my apartment and my friends and the artistic circles I move in and the familiar city squares. And I’m not going to throw all of it out the window, chasing after a man who might act as though he likes me but has never admitted to having deep feelings for me.
I’m not going to do it.
All my stuff is still at my parents’ house, so I need to go back there before our flight. When Isaac offers to drive me over and then wait so we can go to the airport together, I object since it’s such a waste of his time.
He seems offended by my hesitance, so I relent, but the generous gesture makes me more confused than ever. Flustered and squirmy and frazzled. I hate feeling this way, but I don’t know how to stop it.
I’ll never be one of those cool, collected people like Isaac who can control their emotions and parcel them out carefully into tidy compartments in their mind. If I feel something, it will always eventually spill out.
It does today as I quickly pack up my stuff at my parents’, say a few words to my mom (as is her habit, she acts as if nothing happened between us at all), and give my dad a quick hug.
Isaac then drives us to the airport. It’s only when he parks in the short-term lot that I realize the obvious problem. “Oh no. You can’t leave your car here for the week!”
“I’m not. My friends said they’d come by later this evening and pick up my car. I gave them my spare key. They’ve done it a few times before.”
“Oh. Okay. Good.” I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have let you drive me. It’s going to be a hassle for both you and your friends.”
“It’s not a hassle.”
“It is. I should have thought about it. I’m really a jumbled mess today.” I rub my face, trying to clear my mind and push back the heaviness that won’t go away.
Isaac has turned off the ignition. He gives me a sidelong look. “Anything you want to talk about?”
I shake my head. I can’t have this conversation right now. Last night’s breakdown will be nothing compared to what will happen to me if the talk goes the way I suspect it will go.
“All right. Then let’s go take our flight.”
***
T HE PLANE IS ONLY HALFWAY full, and the air is clear and smooth. The flight attendant chats with us like we’re best friends, and there’s not a single spot of turbulence from Boston to Savannah.
The flight couldn’t have been more perfect, but I feel kind of sick the whole time.
So does Isaac. At least I think he does. He’s silent and broody in a way he almost never is. He keeps shooting me questioning looks, and they make me feel guilty because they’re worried and searching.
He’s been nothing but good to me, and I’m painfully guilty on top of everything else. Because he doesn’t want this to end—not yet anyway—but that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
After we land and wait for the other passengers to deboard, we end up near the gate in the airport. Isaac is carrying my shoulder bag as well as his messenger bag in addition to rolling his suitcase.
He stops walking and turns to look at me. “Can you please just get whatever it is said?”
I make a squeaking sound. “I’m sorry!”
“Why are you sorry? Because you haven’t said it yet or because of what you need to say to me?”
“I don’t even know. I just feel terrible. And I feel like...” My voice gets trapped in my throat. I have to clear it before I continue. “I feel like we’re reaching an ending here. I’m not going to be flying to Boston anymore. The wedding is over.”
His face twists weirdly but then composes itself almost immediately. “I know that. But I’m still working in Savannah for a few more weeks.”
“I know. But that seems to just...”
“Just what?”
“Drag things on.”
He takes a purposeful breath. It’s slightly ragged when he blows it out. “So that’s it? You want to call it quits? Right now?”
“No! I don’t want to call it quits. But I don’t... I’m having trouble seeing a future, and I’m not good at casual. I told you that before. I quickly get to the point where I need to commit or end it. It’s not good for my heart otherwise.” It’s strange because I assumed I’d already be in tears at this point, but I’m not. My eyes are desert dry. So is my throat.
So is my heart.
“I see.” He shifts from foot to foot, readjusting the weight of my bag’s strap on his shoulder. “And... trying to make this work is out of the question for you?”
“How would it work?” I ask hoarsely. “Seriously. For longer than a few months. Do you really want to do long-distance for the foreseeable future?”
He opens his mouth and closes it again without making a sound. He’s staring at me, but he doesn’t seem to really be seeing me.
“Isaac, I’m so sorry. I know maybe it seems like moving to Boston is a reasonable option for me, but I don’t want to do it. I can’t do it. I... can’t.”
He swallows visibly.
“And right now we’re still in the beginning stages. This is when we have to make smart choices about what’s best for us and our lives. If we string this along and get too deep, then... then...”
He makes a weird, breathy sound. Almost a laugh but one with absolutely no humor in it. “Right. Of course. Don’t want to get too deep.”
“Don’t make it sound like that. Please, Isaac. This has meant so much to me. You’ve meant so much. But I’m trying to be smart. For once.” I take a deep breath and let it out, my eyes fixed on the floor. “With my heart.”
He’s silent for a long time. Too long. When I glance up to check, he’s stiff and unyielding. Completely unrevealing.
“Isaac?” I prompt at last, his name no more than a breath on my lips.
“I understand. You’re being smart. I used to be smart too. I used to make good decisions.”
“You still—”
“No. I haven’t been. But I will now.” He gives himself a little shake like he’s waking himself up. “You’re entirely right. About everything. Stalling the inevitable will only make it harder. We should make the smart decision and get out of this thing now.”
I should be relieved, but I’m not. It feels like my chest is getting forced into a shape it should never be. “Don’t make it sound so heartless, Isaac. You’ve meant so much to me. I’ll never forget you.”
“I know.” He rubs his face with his free hand and then lets the strap of my bag slide off his shoulder. He hands it to me. “But a clean break is better. Let’s just get it done.”
I gulp, my head spinning and my heart hammering. “Get it done? You mean right now?”
“Yes.” He nods, leans forward abruptly and gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks for everything. I hope the rest of your life is what you want it to be.” His voice might have cracked slightly on the final words, but things are happening too fast for me to tell. “Goodbye, River.”
I blink. My mouth falls open. “G-goodbye.”
Maybe it’s my fault. It almost certainly is. I’m the one that made this happen.
But it feels like a blow. Like I’ve been punched right in the gut.
Isaac nods once. Wraps his fingers around the handle of his rolling case. “Okay. We’ll part ways here. Take care of yourself.”
“Y-you too.”
There’s so much more to say. So many explanations and apologies and second thoughts and entire reversals that are all jumbled in my head, expanding until everything is pushing out against the inside of my skull.
But none of that matters. Not anymore.
Because Isaac is walking away.