Page 73 of Present Tense

I tear up. I can’t believe he’s leaving me. I’m so lost as to why. He speaks again, and I fear he’ll rip me apart further. “Your son has an amazing support system. And disappointment is a part of life. You have to let go. Let go of all the stuff you’re holding onto and all the stuff you can’t control. Jeffery is not your fault. He is not your responsibility. Bad shit happens. You can’t stop it. You’re missing the beautiful things in life, preparing for the worst. You’re so focused on the past you’re missing your present. Don’t give him any more of yourself. Disregard your guilt, and sit in the uncomfortable. Choose to guard yourself from him. Say no to all your fucking imposed obligations. Take care of yourself.”

I wrap my arms around my waist. I can’t even respond. No one has ever seen all of me before. I’ve never tried to give everything to anyone except Ethan, and it’s still not enough. Liam wants too much. His voice softens when he speaks again.

“Ethan is an amazing kid, and in five years, he’ll be out of your house, and what will you be left with? Your rules? Empty boxes and compartments where you slotted the pieces of your life? Your outline of what life is supposed to look like? Where’s the girl I fell in love with recently and a lifetime ago? Find her.”

“You make me out to be some closed off bitch.”

His voice cracks. “I will forever miss you. And him.”

“You’re going back into hiding. That’s what you were doing, you know. The boring women, the dinners with your mother, your noncommittal to a firm. All hiding from yourself and getting what you deserve in life. You live in a museum. It’s filled with cold, untouchable memories of what you think life should be. You got a raw deal with your dad and Nina, but you, too, have your way of hiding. You think I’m the only one fighting against history. That it’s lonely not to see all of someone?” I’m not sure I mean the things I’m saying, but I do know he’s messed up, too. I just thought we could be messed up together.

“All I know is I was willing to give all of that up.” That hurts the most. “I’m better with you in my life. And I thought you would be, too. I’ve never chosen myself before that kiss. I can’t wait for you to find the girl who ate cake for breakfast and jumped in the water without knowing how cold it was. Until then, I have to go. I’m giving you all the space to find her. I can’t say I’ll be around when you do, but I’d like to know you’re happier.”

“Your world is too small to go back,” I say.

He looks at me dead in the eyes. “Not anymore. I’m done with small. All in or all out.”

He picks up his bag and leaves me. It’s like an ice spear hit my stomach. The giant one that the dude from Game of Thrones throws at the dragon. I slump, my knees buckle, and I slide down the wall to the ground.

I’m stunned and gutted. The tears I controlled up until this point pour out harder than any sob fest I’ve ever had. My body is wracked, my head throbbing, my heart breaking, and I can’t get myself under control. I don’t know how to breathe. I don’t know how to function. He’s the piece of me I never knew I needed. And he’s gone.

“What do you mean he’s just gone?” I throw myself on Meg’s work couch. It’s the best seat in the office. Her husband bought it for her because he likes to write music while she’s in the room. They’re strangely codependent, but it works for them.

Meg moves some papers around on her desk and they fall to the floor. I don’t care. Usually, I’d pick them up. For someone who is incredibly efficient and good at her job, her organizational system scares the fuck out of me. And I’m a secret slob. She also worries me with her habit of tripping and falling. I’m facedown on the couch, and I feel it dip beside me. She rubs my back. It feels nice. Like chicken soup when you’re sick or hot chocolate after shoveling the walk.

“Gone.”

She sighs. “When did he leave? He and Jake scheduled a boys’ night or some shit.”

“Two days ago,” I mutter into the couch.

“What?”

I turn my head to the side. “Two days ago.”

“And you’re just telling me now?”

I pull away from her, sit up, and lean on the far side of the couch. I fix my hair, then bend over and fix hers as well. She has a stick in it. Yes, an actual stick. She grins.

“I may have had a picnic lunch with Jake.”

“Did you do it at Millennium Park?” The park is across the street from the cultural center where our offices are located.

“No. We should have. We just made out for a while. When is Liam coming back?”

“Not,” I say, and cross my arms over my chest and stare at her walls. They’re covered with artwork done by her kids and the kids in the art programs we run. My office has soothing reproductions of famous paintings. I thought people would judge me if it was personal. I didn’t use to care if people judged me, but I do now. Fuck.

Meg looks at me. “Was he awful to Ethan?”

I shake my head. “Of course not. He did yell at him, and that’s not his job. So he left.”

“Really? That’s why he left? What did he say?”

“He said I was closed off.” He said I was a different girl. He wanted to know where the partner and silly lover he adores disappeared to. I don’t know where she went. All I know is that once I had to slide back into mommy mode and take care of Ethan, the ex-husband, ChiKid, the mayor’s special events department—which I’ve never really been dropped from—and my dad, she’s been gone. “I was the Jillien of my youth in those first two weeks, but lives aren’t built around who we were at sixteen.”

“I mean, childhood sucked balls, but I kind of am who I was at sixteen. Why aren’t you?”

I don’t know how to find her or pull her back or combine her with all of this responsibility. And the sad part is, I don’t like this version of me. I like the version of me when I’m with Liam and everything else fades to the background.