Page 60 of The Write Place

“I should have told you,” he agrees just as quietly.

“Was she the ‘loose end’ you needed to tie up in New York?” I hate how my voice shakes when I say it, and I angrily wipe a tear from my eyes. Daniel somehow looks even more devastated at the sight of it. I see Jenny hug her knees closer to her, as if this whole scene is too heartbreaking for any of us to bear.

“Sort of. We were over. Beyond over, but I need to sign some paperwork to get out of the apartment we shared, along with dealing with revisions and other book stuff that’s easier if I’m there.” His expression abruptly changes. He is earnest, and he takes a step toward me. “I want to be with you, Mac. I belong with you. Please, let me come in.”

I can feel more traitorous tears starting to fall as I shake my head, holding firm. I see Jenny out of the corner of my eye, also wiping her eyes with her sleeves.

“You have a serious mess to clean up first, Daniel. I’m not interested in being in the middle of this.”

He pauses for a second, then nods, resigned. “I will fix this, Mac, and I will be back.”

I smile sadly and push myself off the door. “Goodbye, Daniel,” I say, and it sounds final.

“Not goodbye,” he insists. “See you soon.”

I just shake my head and close the door with him still standing on the porch. I lean against the closed door, looking up at the ceiling, barely able to see it through my tears. I slump to the floor, where I hug my knees to my chest and sob into them. Jenny comes over to me and sits on the floor, pulling me into a hug.

We sit like that for a long time—long enough for Daniel to be well on his way even if he had lingered on my porch, which I suspect he did, and long enough for my tears to have returned to a more manageable sniffle. Jenny rises from the floor, pulling me up with her. She rubs my biceps with her hands as if to warm me, then sighs.

“I guess I’ll get the cheeseburgers.”

Chapter 26

My students file out of the classroom at the end of the day, dropping their essay tests for Frankenstein on my desk on their way out. The days are getting noticeably shorter, and while it isn’t dark out yet, the sun is already hitting the tops of the tallest trees. The stack of papers on my desk doesn’t look promising, or more likely, I’m projecting my newfound apathy from the past few weeks on it. It’s still a habit to glance every so often at the back of the room where Daniel’s desk had been, even though it had been moved out of my room weeks ago after he left. Every time, I’m sad all over again.

At first, he texted and called almost every day, but I never answered. The more I thought about it, the more I felt it needed to be over between us. He, himself, had said that everything ends, and I have had enough goodbyes to last me a lifetime. I don’t think I have it in me to give him another chance only to find out he isn’t happy with me, either, and has to move on to the next woman. Or, worse, to worry about him lying every time he has to fly back to New York for something. I have learned my lesson about my boundaries. Keeping them is easier, cleaner, and definitely safer.

Jenny floats into my room after all the students are gone, as she has been doing almost every day since Daniel left. It’s sweet, but I’m running out of ways to tell her I’m fine and I don’t need a babysitter.

She sits at a student desk in front of me and puts her chin in her hand. “It’s Friday!” she sighs happily. I continue stacking up the papers and putting them in a folder so I can take them home to grade over the weekend.

“It’s been three weeks,” she says cautiously.

“I know.” I don’t meet her eyes. “Are you going to hate me if I say I don’t have it in me to go out tonight?”

Usually, the push and pull of her trying to get me to go out despite my refusal is part of the game we play, but she must hear how tired I sound, because she says, “No.”

I look at her, surprised. “No?”

“No,” she repeats. “I wasn’t ever going to pretend that three weeks would fix this one.”

“Thanks, Jenny.” I feel tears threaten, but I tamp them down.

“Honestly, the three-week thing has always been kind of a sham,” she continues. “I thought we were just using it to keep Ellie’s memory alive, and it was bound to end sometime.”

It feels kind of like a punch in the gut to hear this, but she’s not wrong. I’ve never thought our three-weeks-post-breakup revelry was useful. In fact, I laughed at Ellie the first time she suggested it, but when she died, we just kept doing it.

“If this is some reverse psychology to get me to go to Tony’s, it’s not going to work.” I shoot her a wary look. She laughs.

“No, I know you want to go home and curl up with a book and some wine,” she says in that lovingly annoyed way of someone who has known me almost my whole life and disagrees with my choice of weekend activities but accepts it.

“You know me so well,” I say with a small smile.

“I do. And you know what else? I have a book recommendation for you.” She has a mischievous smile now, and I’m not sure I like where this is going. Suddenly, her expression is serious, and she says, “Now, before I give this to you, you have to promise you won’t destroy it.”

“Why would I destroy it?” I’m genuinely confused.

“Just promise,” she insists.